The Setup and the Substitute by Jiffy Kate

Chapter 29

Owen

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck!

I punch my pillow for what has to be the millionth time since going to bed but it’s no use. I can’t fall asleep. For one, Sophie isn’t in bed with me and I hate it. It’s bad enough sleeping alone when I’m on the road but knowing she’s downstairs is driving me crazy.

Secondly, Lisa is here, right down the hall, and that’s just fucking weird.

It’s been two years since we’ve shared this much space and now she’s staying here for the foreseeable future and I don’t like it.

If I’m being perfectly honest, I hate it, but what was I supposed to do?

When Molly asked if her mom could stay here, it broke my heart, so of course I said yes. I will do anything to make my kids happy, even if it means sacrificing my own happiness.

Last night, when I came home from a late game, I could tell Sophie was spent, so I gave her a reprieve and told her I’d take care of breakfast this morning. This has been an adjustment for all of us, including the kids, but it’s been especially hard on Sophie. I can’t begin to imagine how she’s feeling and I’d love to have one of our heart-to-hearts while lying beside her in bed, but that seems like a thing of the past.

Every time I’ve tried to talk to her recently, we’ve been interrupted by the kids, or Lisa is around and it makes things incredibly awkward.

I’ve noticed how Lisa watches us and I know it’s been on the tip of her tongue to ask about my relationship with Sophie, but she hasn’t mentioned it.

Today is a travel day for the team. I have to report to the field by nine and we’ll be in Chicago for the next five days, which means Sophie will be flying solo here with the kids and Lisa.

That’s an added layer of guilt that is sitting heavy in my gut and on my mind.

After I shower and pack my bag, I head downstairs to make a quick breakfast, but am surprised to see Sophie sitting at the table with a cup of coffee in hand.

She looks tired, like she didn’t get any more sleep than I did.

And again, I wish I could fix all of this—figure out what Lisa’s plans are, make things right for my kids, and get mine and Sophie’s relationship back on track, but I feel utterly and completely stuck.

Like my legs are in quicksand and I’m slowly sinking.

“Hey,” I say, turning to see a travel mug already made for me. “I said I’d make breakfast so you could sleep in.”

She gives me a weak smile and shrugs. “Couldn’t sleep, so I decided to make myself useful. There’s a casserole in the oven and it should be ready in about ten minutes.”

Glancing behind me and then down the hall, I realize this is the first time we’ve truly been alone since Lisa showed up. I want to go to her, wrap her in my arms and tell her everything is going to be okay, but I can’t promise that.

I have no idea what’s going to happen a day from now, let alone a week or month down the road. My entire life feels like it’s spinning out of control, not much different from the day Lisa walked out.

The only difference is I have Sophie.

But I’m not sure that’s fair.

She signed a contract to take care of my children until the season is over. She never signed up for my baggage or to deal with my drug-addicted ex. That was never part of the agreement.

Exhaling, I take the seat across from her. “I hate that I have to leave today,” I admit. “This isn’t fair to you and if you want, I can call my mom or Emily and see if they’re able to come stay with the kids until all of this…”

Goes away?

Works itself out?

Fuck if I know.

“I’m a Callahan,” Sophie says, squaring her shoulders. “I never back down from a challenge.” She takes a sip of her coffee and sets the mug back down on the table with a sigh. “Besides, I’d be miserable being away from Molly and Ryan. It wouldn’t feel right.”

God, I love that about her—the tenacity and strength, the genuine affection she feels toward my kids. All of it. Everything.

“I did want to talk to you about something before you leave.” There’s an edge of hesitancy to her voice and it makes my stomach drop a little.

What now?

What else?

I know it’s crazy to put those types of questions out into the universe because it will only come back to bite me in the ass, but damn it, I can’t take much more.

“When you’re gone,” Sophie begins tentatively, “Lisa seems to disappear a lot. She claims to need to make phone calls or take phone calls, but it’s quite often and sometimes for an hour or more. I know when you’re here, she seems totally present and like she’s…” Sophie pauses, swallowing as she averts her gaze to her coffee cup, as if she’s uncomfortable with this conversation. Inhaling, she looks back up at me and lets out a deep sigh. “Basically, what I’m trying to say is she puts on a good show, but when you’re not here, all pretenses are gone and she’s distant and uninterested.”

Sophie’s statement doesn’t come as a surprise, so why do I suddenly feel defensive?

It’s not like I didn’t have those same fears and assumptions before Lisa left. She’s never been much of a hands-on mom, but I always thought it was because of her addiction.

And she claims she got help and is on the road to recovery.

So, what now?

“Fuck,” I groan, rubbing a hand down my face and through the stubble on my jaw. “Sophie, I… what do you want me to say? I’m not a magician. I can’t make her be anything she’s not. It’s like I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place right now… damned if I do and damned if I don’t.”

I didn’t mean to raise my voice, but it happened anyway and I immediately regret it when I see Sophie’s eyes grow wide in surprise.

“I’m not trying to piss you off,” she says quietly, her face falling in something resembling resolve. “I just wanted to open the line of communication and tell you what I’m observing when you’re not here. You want me to take care of your children, right?”

Now her own anger is reaching the surface.

It’s obvious we’ve both touched a nerve.

“I do,” I say, trying to keep my cool and be calm. “Of course, I do.”

“Then, that’s what I’m doing here, looking out for their best interests.” She rises from the table and walks over to the coffee pot, topping off her mug and then opening the refrigerator to get the creamer she likes. “I want to be here, but don’t ask me to turn a blind eye to things happening under your roof. They’re my responsibility when you’re not here, correct?”

This is all-business-Sophie.

She’s setting boundaries, not just for herself, but for everyone involved, myself included.

“Yes.”

“Okay,” she says, her tone going soft. “Good.”

“Thank you for being here,” I start, standing to walk over to her. When my arms wrap around her shoulders, I feel her tense and it kills me. Placing a kiss at the top of her head, I close my eyes and pray we can find our way through this and come out stronger on the other side. “When I get back from Chicago, I’ll have a talk with Lisa and try to figure out where we all go from here.”

She nods but doesn’t say anything, and I swear I feel her body shake, but I don’t force her to turn around. I couldn’t handle her tears this morning. My emotions are already raw and exposed and somehow, I have to get a grip on them before we land in Chicago later today.

“Be back in five days,” I say, kissing the top of her head again before turning and grabbing my coffee from the table and my bag off the floor.

Clearing her throat, she asks, “Don’t you want breakfast?”

I hear the emotion in her voice, but I don’t react to it. I can’t. If I do, I’ll break and I don’t have time for that. All I can do is move forward—putting one foot in front of the other.

“I’ll grab something at the clubhouse,” I tell her, sounding colder than I intend.

God, I hate this.

Sophie has helped me so much over the past few months. She’s given me a safe place to land and a chance to open up—open my heart. Thanks to her, I was finally starting to feel like myself again.

And before Lisa showed up, all I could think about was a future with Sophie.

But my focus has shifted. I have to think about my kids and what’s best for them. The walls are sliding back up, that hedge of protection moving into place. It’s like my fight or flight mechanism is on autopilot and I can’t deviate from the pattern.

This version of Owen Thatcher is closed-off and short-fused. He doesn’t let himself feel emotions and he’s bad at letting people in. I hate it, but I can’t see a way around it at the moment.