The McKenna home hadn’t changed at all since he’d practically lived there in high school. The same comfy, dated furniture. The same curtains in the windows. The same appliances that Mr. McKenna miraculously kept running, fixing them whenever they broke and refusing to buy new ones. As a self-employed business owner himself, Wes could appreciate his former in-laws’ frugal ways.

It was the memorabilia from their past that always unsettled him.

His own parents hadn’t cared much about his football career and aspirations. They hadn’t really shown much interest in anything he did. An only child, he was clearly one they hadn’t exactly planned for. He wasn’t neglected; they just showed their love through financial support, paying for his gear and equipment and football camps but never really involved.

That was probably why he’d been so drawn to Kelly’s family. They were supportive of their children, the kind of parents who were at every game, every recital, every school event. They all sat around the table for breakfast in the morning and dinner every evening. They had board game nights and movie marathons.

And they’d always treated Wes as part of the family. They’d been over the moon when he’d gotten drafted after college, and their home was still a shrine to his past accomplishments.

He cringed as he entered the home, hearing the game on the television—his game. One he’d played ten years ago, his best game ever. His father-in-law watched it every time he visited, and Wes didn’t have the heart to tell the old man that seeing the game, seeing the future he could no longer have, ate away at his soul.

He loved his life in Blue Moon Bay. He liked his job. He loved being a dad. But there was definitely a part of him that longed for the dream that was cut too short.

“Hey, there he is!” John said from his old, worn leather recliner as Wes and Marissa entered the living room. A perfect spiral of an old football came toward Wes, and as per their routine, Wes caught it and tossed it back. “And he brought my favorite granddaughter.”

Marissa laughed warily and played along with the overplayed joke. “Pop, I’m your only granddaughter.” She accepted a hug from him as Wes sat on the sofa. The springs creaked under his weight, and the cushions molded to his shape.

“Your grandma could use some help setting the table,” John whispered to Marissa, sneaking her a five-dollar bill.

“I asked you to set the table,” Carolyn said, joining them in the living room and swatting her husband’s head playfully.