Twice in a Lifetime (Love Found) by Ruthie Henrick

but that didn’t keep him from hating—no, resenting—it. Was it possible to stop and keep his honor? With a shift he transferred his duffle to his other shoulder. The idea taunted him from time to time, but he couldn’t figure how to manage it. The situation was beyond unfortunate. They were all victims.
    With a heave of a breath he dropped his duffle at his feet. He was tired clear to his bones. Tired of lying. Tired of feeling trapped. He needed to talk to Allie, make her understand. So many times he’d tried to tell her, to explain, then lost his nerve.
    Oh God, he loved her. But what if he couldn’t make her understand? The most frightening notion reared its head, turned him cold. What if he lost her?
    And what about Trey? He was fifteen now, but that was still so young. He would do anything to keep his son from hurting. Or worse, from hating him. The agony of that was like a sucker punch, swift, strong and painful.
    But he was beyond tired of hurting.
    He had to come clean, and soon. He was a good father. He was a good husband. His love for his family was absolute. Maybe they would understand.
    And he could stop hurting.
    He stood to his full height, let out one final, weary sigh, then sucked in a deep, steadying breath and straightened his shoulders. He pressed the buzzer, pasted on a smile, and waited for her to open the door.

 
     
     
    The lingering heat grabbed him by the chest and squeezed, and even though they’d already been there for hours, Trey wasn’t quite ready to leave. The lights around the ball field flickered on slowly, one by one. Ugly grey moths dove into the yellow bulbs, swooped out, flew back in.
    “Okay, champ, now go wide.”
    Dad tossed a short pass, aimed about six feet to his left. He cut sharply, caught the ball in his chest, tucked it close against his side.
    Dad shot him a thumbs-up and lifted his voice to be heard from forty yards away. “Good job, champ. Almost perfect.”
    He fired back a wobble ball.
    Dad got in formation, swung into the imaginary pocket and threw a perfect long spiral. “You all set for the weekend?”
    It was his parents’ anniversary this weekend—fifteen years—and they were leaving for Sedona the next day after work. His dad liked to joke that they were married for like five minutes before he was conceived, but he happened to know for a fact they were doing it before they got married. They didn’t know he knew, but he heard them talking one night a few years ago, when they thought he was asleep.
    He hauled ass to get to the ball and snagged it out of the air. “Sure thing. Aunt Maddie’s going to pick me up with Jax after practice.” Ha, hardly winded even after that sprint. Coach already started two-a-days, and they were a bitch, but they sure got you back in shape fast.
    Again his throw back to his dad was weak, which was why Jax was the quarterback and he was a running back. Jax couldn’t run for shit, but they both made varsity for next year, so they were cool.
    “Nice catch.”
    “Thanks. We still going by Uncle Jake’s to swim before we head home? I’m sweating like a pig.” Uncle Jake wasn’t really his uncle. But judging by the way they talked, he and his dad had been friends since God was in diapers. They also let him hang out with them on school breaks. Uncle Jake didn’t treat him like a kid when he was around, which counted for a lot in his book.
    “Yeah, sure. Here comes the last ball. It’s a long one.” Dropping a leg back, Dad raised his arm and let her fly.
    Trey fell back, easily caught the pass, then ran in. Even though the sun was gone it was too friggin’ hot. He was ready to jump in the pool.
    The grass on the field was dry and crunchy, like it got every summer. A black asphalt track circled the field—the track his mom ran on almost every morning. After a few long strides they hit the parking lot. “You sure I can’t stay home by myself this weekend? It’s only a couple of days, and I’m not a little kid