JIMMY’S POV
“Dad, will you take me to the game?”
I stood stiffly at the door of his home office, the edges of the ticket crumpling beneath my trembling fingers. My knuckles had gone white from clutching it too tight, but I couldn’t relax—not when it felt like everything depended on this moment.
He didn’t even look up.
He was pacing again, phone to his ear, speaking in that clipped tone he always used with investors. His brow furrowed as he nodded to someone I couldn’t hear. I waited… holding my breath, the hope in my chest expanding too fast for my ribs to contain.
He raised a single finger—“Just a minute.”
That minute lasted ten.
I stood there the whole time, ticket in hand, shoes shifting against the tiled floor. With every tick of the grandfather clock in the hallway, my hope wit
