Shame the Devil (Portland Devils #3) - Rosalind James Page 0,185

prom. He was so awesome.”

“Which means,” Owen said, “that I wasn’t a jerk, and I talked to the guys like a normal person. The bar was pretty low.”

“It was not,” Dyma said. She had hold of his arm like she didn’t want to let it go, and the look in Owen’s eyes sent off every kind of danger signal in Harlan’s mind. It might be a mismatch, age-wise, money-wise, and so forth, but he could tell it didn’t feel that way to Owen. For a smart guy, he could be pretty stupid about his heart.

Then he forgot about that, because Dyma peeled off to go line up with the graduates and the rest of them got to the gym, and he felt a couple thousand eyes on him. He’d dressed the same way as Owen, in what you’d call “NFL formal.” Dark Levi’s, white button-down, expensive jacket, custom boots. He’d gotten a haircut, too, and this time, he had let the guy shave a couple lines into it.

Post-apocalyptic, Dane’s wife had said. Tough. Maybe a little bit bad. He’d gone for it. He’d gone out of his way, in fact, to look full-on Viking, because the better he looked, the more jealous these women would be of Jennifer, and he wanted them jealous. He made sure he held her hand, too.

Maybe that thought wasn’t worthy of him, but he didn’t think so. He figured maybe half of them would be pleased that she looked so happy, that she was glowing, that her life had worked out after that rough start. Half of the ones who cared at all, anyway. He only wanted to make the ones feel bad who should feel bad. He figured that balanced out his karma points.

He forgot about that, too, then, because he heard a piercing whistle from somewhere up in the bleachers and the roar of a quarterback shouting, “Eleven! Hey!”

Orbison, waving from the nosebleed section. And Dakota with him.

Jennifer said, “They came.” Sounding joyful. Sounding amazed. Hurrying up the wooden steps with a clack of heels, forgetting anything she might have been thinking about showing off, about winning.

Winning would never matter to her as much as that her friends had showed up for her daughter’s graduation. And that was why she’d always win.

Life could knock you down. It could roll you around down there in the mud and the pain until you could barely stagger to your feet again. It couldn’t take your family, though, and it couldn’t take your friends. Not if you were the kind of person who held on. And Jennifer could never be anything else.

She’d cried. Of course she had. She’d wept into a tissue as Dyma had marched up there, so new and shiny, with her High Honors gold cord around her neck. As she’d paused on her way across the stage and waved her diploma at all of them, her smile so bright, it filled the gym. As Owen had stood and clapped and roared like he was yelling to the offensive line, not caring who was watching.

Her baby. She held the moment inside her heart and thought, Look what we did, Mama. Look at this beautiful girl we raised. All those sacrifices you made, when you should have been done. All the times you stood up for me. All the times you told me I could do this, that I was smart, that I was strong. I wish you could see this day. I wish you could know how happy I am right now.

She turned to her grandfather and saw the slow tears rolling down his face, and she put her arms around him, held him tight, and said, “Look at our baby girl. Mom would be so proud. She’d be so happy. I wish she was here to see this.”

He patted her hand, took a tissue from her, wiped his eyes, and said, “She is. She’s right here. She knows.” And she cried some more, so hard, in fact, that she had to stand in an endless line afterwards to use the girls’ bathroom and fix her makeup. During which time everybody was very, very nice to her. She tried to be cynical about that, but she couldn’t be. She was flying.

There were eight of them at dinner, because Blake and Dakota joined them. Almost the same group that had eaten her lasagna on that Saturday evening when Harlan had showed up to tell her that he was going to take care of the baby, and