THERE REALLY WAS nothing like an eight-thirty a.m. basketball game in some sweaty, humid gym in Bensonhurst. Surprisingly, this was not a sarcastic thought of Tyler’s. He was dead serious. He loved organized sports. He loved fancy coffee, of which he currently had one in hand, courtesy of the cute barista he’d been casually flirting with for the last few weeks. And most of all, he loved Matty, who bolted to his feet the second he saw his Uncle Ty across the gymnasium, pinwheeling both arms in the air to get his attention.
Sebastian caught Tyler’s eye as well from where he was leading the team of eight-year-olds through some pregame stretching. The two men grinned at one another. How many early Saturday mornings had they spent just like this in their childhoods? Lackadaisically stretching before they played some intramural sport that neither of them particularly cared about.
Tyler’s happiness at seeing Seb and Matty was slightly punctured by the realization of just how much he’d missed them this summer.
You cling to Matty and Seb instead of living a life of your own.
Pretty much every single letter of every single word that Serafine had spewed at Tyler at the Cyclones game had wounded him. But had anything hurt him more than that? He wasn’t sure. With one sentence she’d transformed one of the things he was the most proud of in his life to something shameful and embarrassing.
The worst part about it? She hadn’t been wrong.
After Seb’s wife had died, Tyler had gotten so used to letting Seb lean on him for anything and everything that he hadn’t noticed the subtle shift over the years. The shift where finally he’d been the one leaning on Seb. As soon as Fin had pointed it out, it had seemed apparent and glaring and mortifying.
Seb was his family, would always be his family. But that didn’t mean Tyler’s daddy issues needed a seat at Seb’s dinner table.
So, he’d taken a step back. He’d let Via get settled into her new house, let the three of them get acclimated to living with one another. They didn’t need Tyler popping in at all hours.
But now, looking across the gym at Matty rolling into a new stretch like the floppy Great Dane puppy that he was, Tyler wondered if maybe he’d overcorrected a bit too much. Because damn. He missed that kid. He missed Seb. He missed being Uncle Tyler.
“Ty!”
Tyler turned toward the voice and immediately pasted on a smile to hide the wince. Via was standing in the bleachers waving him over. He waved back and quickly glanced away. Of course he’d be sitting with her. It would be super weird not to. But for some reason, he hadn’t thought she’d be at the game.
Of course she was here. That’s what good parents and guardians did. They came to their kid’s sporting events. Just because he’d never had anyone in the bleachers for him did not mean that Via would ever miss Matty’s game.
Tyler walked over and bounded gracefully up the bleachers to Via’s seat. He was so focused on pleasantly smiling at his best friend’s girlfriend that he didn’t notice the woman sitting beside her until he sat down.
“Morning, Via—” The breath whooshed out of his lungs as Fin leaned around Via, her elbows resting on her knees, her dark braid swinging down over one shoulder and one eyebrow raised to the vaulted ceilings. “Fin,” he choked, with what he hoped was an aloof nod.
What the hell was she doing here? She was spending so much time with the family that she was even attending Matty’s sporting events these days? God. He’d taken a few steps back this summer, and apparently Fin had taken a few steps forward. The thought made him panicky.
He cleared his throat, casting about for something to say. “I would have picked up more coffee if I’d known I’d have the pleasure of seeing you two today.”
Fin may have fishgutted him at that Cyclones game, but he could still be polite.
Her second eyebrow raised to meet the first and he knew that she completely saw through his facade of manners and fake smiles.
“That’s okay!” Via chirped. “We already had some and I don’t need any more. I’m too nervous.”
“For what?” Tyler tore his attention away from the annoyingly seductive black hole of Fin’s beauty and put his eyes on Via.
“For Matty’s game.”
Tyler couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s just intramural basketball.”
“I know,” Via said, looking a little sheepish. “But he was so nervous this morning. He’s really scared the ball is going to bounce off the backboard and hit him in the face. Apparently that happened during a practice and he’s yet to live it down.”
Tyler chuckled and looked out at Matty. “I can’t believe he’s at an age where he’s finally starting to feel embarrassment. I once saw him tear the ass out of his shorts on the playground and just shrug and keep playing.”
Via burst out laughing. “He’s an inspiration to us all.”
The scoreboard buzzed loudly and Tyler watched as both centers missed the ball during tip-off. All ten kids on the court just sort of scrabbled after it in a big, shoe-squeaking clump. He set his coffee between his feet and pulled out his notebook from under his arm and took a few notes on the surroundings, on the other team, on Matty.
“It’s sweet of you to do this,” Via said, nudging Tyler with her shoulder. “He’s really excited about having an article written about him. By a real sports writer.”
“I thought I’d give him the notebook too, along with the article.” He thumbed through it to show her. “So he can see that I’ve used it to take notes on the Nets as well. He can see his own name along with the superstars.”
He felt a bright light on the side of his face and knew that Fin was looking at him, but he didn’t bother turning to look back at her. He was doing just fine ignoring her and he wasn’t about to deviate from that path.
“It’s so neat!” Via crowed, looking closely at a page of his carefully handwritten notes. Even when he was scribbling as fast as he could, Tyler’s handwriting stayed scrupulously tidy. Just like the perfect wave of his blond hair, just like the collars of his shirts and the crease in his pants. Neatness was something that he’d learned at a very young age. At both his mother’s house and his father’s house, there’d been an army of employees with feather dusters and cans of furniture wax. His home life may have been trembling like it was made of matchsticks, but the homes themselves had been showcase perfect at all times.
Even as a kid, he’d transferred the same principle to his physical appearance. Clean fingernails at dinnertime, flossed teeth, a drawer of spare shoelaces in case one broke. All things he could do to keep his life strung together. Besides, he’d figured that if he was going to be imposing himself at Seb’s parents’ house all the time then he couldn’t afford to be a sloppy houseguest. The habit had stuck. So here he was, a man in his early forties, with dress socks showing a half inch under his tidily tailored trousers, his face shaved in neat lines.
A perfectly wrapped present with no name in the card.
He glowered down at his own handwriting. He’d been so excited about the game. And all it had taken to turn it into a pity party was one sultry psychic who’d yet to even say hello.
“I’m gonna run to the bathroom real quick,” Via said, stepping carefully over Tyler’s coffee. “Back in a sec.”
No! Tyler resisted the urge to grab the tail of her long sweater, keep her from abandoning him to Fin’s chilly waters.
He glanced to the side. The space where Via had been sitting was shockingly small. He’d felt that she’d been some sort of impenetrable forcefield between him and oblivion, but really, that forcefield had only been about eighteen inches wide.
Tyler couldn’t help but look up. Fin’s light, ruthless eyes were on him. To his surprise, she glanced away immediately, sitting up straighter and clearing her throat.
He busied himself with writing a quick note about an accidental assist—the kid had obviously been aiming for the hoop but had arced the ball into his teammate’s hands instead.
“How was your summer?” Smoke and cloves and all spice, no sugar.
He looked up at Fin, his brow furrowed. She was small-talking him? He hadn’t thought her capable of so pedestrian an act. “Fine. You?”
“Fine.”
They both looked back at the game. He took more notes, frowning when the hairs on the back of his neck rose up. Even though his brain and heart were done with Fin, apparently his epidermis had yet to get the message. Sitting next to her was like sitting next to a hot fire on a cold day: too hot to touch, but he couldn’t resist turning toward it anyhow. He realized his knees had started pointing in her direction and quickly corrected. He faced the game. Ignored Fin.
“What kind of coffee did Christi make for you today?”
He stiffened and turned to stare at her, his mouth dropped open. “How the hell did you know the name of my barista?”
She smirked and nodded toward his coffee cup. Apparently today was the day that Christi had worked up the gumption to leave her name and number on the side of his cup.
“Ah.” He hated when Fin did that. Used some sleight-of-hand trick to make it seem like she was all-knowing. “My usual,” he answered her, for some reason not wanting to tell her his coffee order. He’d rather it remained a mystery to her, if she hadn’t already deduced it simply from the faint fumes of steamed milk and cinnamon on the air. Or whatever.
Luckily, whoever had planned out this game was well aware of the stamina of children and they were already almost to halftime. The score was four to two. Matty’s team was down.
Tyler made a few notes and prayed for Via to come back.
“Listen, Tyler,” Fin started in a tone of voice he’d rarely heard her use before. It was so...normal. Nothing spooky about it. She sounded almost contrite.
He turned to her. “Yeah?”
“I wanted to tell you something.”
For some reason his pulse kicked up about ten notches. He waited, dimly aware that he was holding his breath.
But she said nothing. Instead, her eyes dropped to his trouser pocket.
“Your phone is buzzing.”
“Right.” Extremely aware that he was answering his phone in the middle of a very strange conversation, he reached into his pocket and frowned at the unknown number. He almost rejected the call but he saw that it had a Columbus, Ohio, area code.
His blood sped up in his veins. He hadn’t somehow screwed that up too, had he? No. He’d kept up his Thursday-night phone calls no matter what. Besides, she never called him. He always called her, and he had her number programmed into his phone. If she was calling it would be from her own phone. Unless it was an emergency...
“I have to take this.”
“Sure.”
“Hello?” he answered the call.
“Is this Tyler Leshuski?” a woman’s voice asked him. She sounded firm and exasperated, as if he’d already pushed all her buttons.
“It is.”
“This is Myra King. I’m calling from Franklin County Social Services on behalf of your sister, Kylie Leshuski.”
Tyler stopped breathing altogether. “Okay.”
He was suddenly aware of a hand on his shoulder. Via was back. But Tyler saw nothing, whirling needles pricking his vision as he listened to a woman he’d never met completely change his life.