I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t even find it in me to make a noise as my back hit the cement wall in the bathroom. My hands went to my knees as I hunched over, my heart cringing and flexing. Aching.

Who was I kidding? I was a fuckup. I was going to ruin the boys. What the hell was I doing raising them? Why hadn’t I just let the Larsens take them? I didn’t know what I was doing. I couldn’t even manage not to embarrass them. I thought that I’d stopped making so many stupid decisions, but I was wrong.

God.

I cried more and more and more, silent tears that didn’t clog my throat because it was already full of shame and guilt and anger at myself.

Even as a little kid, I either got mad or I cried if I was embarrassed before I got angry.

“Aunt Di?” Josh’s voice was hesitant and whispered, but so familiar it cut right through my thoughts.

I wiped at my face with the back of my hand, keeping my gaze on the cement floor. “I’m okay, Josh,” I called out in a weak, hoarse voice that said I wasn’t.

He didn’t reply, but the sound of cleats clacking on the floor warned me he was coming before I saw him peek around the edge of the wall. His small face was soft and worried, his mouth and eyes downturned. “Tia.” The word came out of him in a hiss, a claim.

“I’m okay. You should go back to the field. I’ll—” I stopped talking when this sob crept up on me out of nowhere. The hand I slapped over my mouth didn’t help any.

“You’re crying.” Josh took another step further into the building. Then another.

Dragging my palm up toward my eyes, I wiped at them. Get it together. I had to get it together. “I’m okay, J. I promise. I’ll be okay.”

“But you’re crying,” he repeated the words, his eyes flicking across the stalls like he was worried he’d get caught doing something bad but obviously not worried enough because he kept creeping toward me. His hands met at his chest. “Don’t cry.”

Oh my God. Him telling me not to cry only made me cry even more. Before I could stop myself, as he got closer and closer, I blurted out, “Do I embarrass you?”

“What?” He stopped in place two feet away. He genuinely looked like I’d hit him.

“You can tell me the truth,” I said in broken syllables, sounding like a complete liar. “I don’t want you to wish I wasn’t around if it’s because of something I wear or something I do—”

“No! That’s stupid.” Those eyes just like mine went over my face and he shook his head, looking so much like a young Rodrigo it only made me feel that much worse.

“I don’t—” I was hiccupping. “I know I’m not your real mom or even Mandy,” the words kept getting broken up the more I cried. “But I’m trying. I’m trying so hard, J. I’m sorry if I mess up sometimes, but—”

His body smacked into mine so hard, my spine hit the wall again. Josh hugged me like his life depended on it. He hugged me like he hadn’t since his dad died. The side of his cheek went right along my chest as he held me tight. “You’re better than my real mom, better than Mandy—”

“Jesus, Josh. Don’t say stuff like that.”

“Why? You always tell me not to lie,” he said into my chest as he hugged me. “I don’t like you crying. Don’t do it anymore.”

Oh my God. I did the complete opposite and bawled a little more, right into my eleven-year-old.

“Ms. Christy is a witch,” he said into my shirt.

A mature adult would have told Josh not to call a person a witch and deny that Christy was being one. Except I’d call her behavior that of a bitch, not a witch.

But I didn’t feel very much like a mature adult then. I’d used up all my adulting points of the day. So all I did was hug Josh closer. “She is,” I agreed with a sniffle.

“I’ll quit,” he stated. “I can join another team,” my nephew offered, cracking my heart in half.

“Joshy—” I started to say before I got cut off.

“Can I talk to your aunt, Josh?” a rough, voice filled the bathroom, making me look up to see Dallas standing three feet away. When the hell had he walked in without us noticing?

The boy in my arms tensed before he turned around, his stance wide and protective. “No.”

God help me, the tears started up all over again. I loved this kid. I loved him with every single cell in my body. There was a lot of things about love that you could only learn after you’d faced the real kind. The best kind wasn’t this soft, sweet thing of hearts and picnics. It wasn’t flowery and divine.

Real love was gritty. The real kind of love never quit. Someone who loved you would do what’s best for you; they’d stand up for you and sacrifice. Someone who loved you would face any inconvenience willingly.

You didn’t know what love was until someone was willing to give up what they loved the most for you.

But it was also never letting them make that choice, either.

Dallas sighed, his hands going into his pockets. His thick-framed sunglasses had been shoved up onto the brim of his hat, but I didn’t look at his face. I didn’t want to. “Please, Josh.”

“Why? So you can make her cry too?” my defender asked.

“No. I’m not going to make her cry. I swear. You know me better than that,” he explained. “Please. I don’t want you to quit. I’d like for you to play the first game at least, for your friends out there, and if you still want to quit afterward, you can. I wouldn’t blame you. We’re a team, and you don’t treat people on your team like that.”