by Peyton Storm
“Thank you, Daddy!” She was beaming, as was he.
“Anytime, Peanut. Now go put your things away. I’ll be right behind ya.”
Paisley turned on her heel and skipped down the hallway with a goodie bag packed to the rim. We both watched her go, but the second she closed her bedroom door, I could feel Carter’s eyes on me.
“I’m fine!”
Right, that was convincing. I mean, no red flags. None at all. Carter’s eyes widened with his arms up in defense mode.
“Easy.” He grinned and stepped closer. “I know that look, by the way.” And with a wink, he was gone.
I glanced toward the mirror mounted near the front door, and sure enough, my hair was disheveled, my entire face flushed. Yeah, he knew that look alright.
After my second bottle of water, I found them in Paisley’s bedroom. She was in her comfy loungewear. Yeah, she’d definitely got that from me. She was that kid who treated every outing like a long day at the office that required a complete dress down once she got home. She threw on one of her dad’s old high school Varsity t-shirts and crawled into bed, surrounded by far too many stuffed animals and pillows. She was just about to turn the page when Carter pulled a messy bun atop her head. She’d gotten that from me as well.
While she’d just started to read, Paisley had loved books all her life. We’d been sure to read to her daily since day one, and until her reading got stronger, we took turns reading pages. The fairytale would have to wait, though. Paisley’s words began to slur, and her lids grew heavy. She was crashing from her sugar rush. Carter looked to me for the okay.
They’d left his house early, she then witnessed a mini brawl in her driveway, and then headed to what she claimed to be the best party ever. The kid deserved a nap, and so Carter and I quietly stepped out from her room. Once the door closed quietly behind us, he took my hand and led me to the kitchen table.
“May I?”
“Of course.” I watched as he made his way around my kitchen as though it were his own.
He’d made many bottles of formula, set up a high chair, and much more. It was his home, too. I watched as he set up the french press.
“She can get a couple hours in without it messing up her schedule, right?”
“Yeah.” I smiled simply because I couldn’t help it. “She’s good.”
Once the coffee was ready, he offered me a mug and asked if I wanted to talk about it. I was hesitant at first. I mean as close as we were, I wasn’t sure where the line of too much really was. I’d always been comfortable telling him absolutely anything, so I figured why stop now?
“I slept with Greyson,” I blurted. “And I would have slept with you earlier had you not pulled away.”
His eyes widened, but he didn’t interrupt me.
“When you came home, you said you knew that look. That freshly fucked look? Well, you were right...kind of. I’d just woken from a dream of...well, of me sleeping with the both of you. At the same time. Again.”
I finally snapped my mouth shut as Carter’s dropped open. Clearly, he needed a moment. He seemed to go from shocked to amused within a millisecond.
“Saucy,” he teased, and I damn near threw something.
“It’s not funny, Carter! What is wrong with me?” His cocky smile faded slowly as he settled on the edge of the dining table to look me in the eye.
“Nothing, Presley. Absolutely nothing. Dreams aren’t something we can control. For what it’s worth, I think you love us both in different ways, for different reasons. I fill a space in your heart that he can’t, and as much as I hate to admit, vice versa. As far as the sex dream...I mean, I am hot so, there’s that.”
His cheeky grin was contagious, but I still nudged him, and he, of course, mocked me by pretending to tip over.
“Dick.” I glared.
“Times two.”
For that, he was extremely proud of himself. I had to lunge forward to smother his howling laughter. Once he simmered, he kissed the center of my palm that remained pressed against his mouth until I was sure he wouldn’t wake Paisley. When I pulled my hand away, he linked his fingers with mine.
“Talk to me, Presley. What do you need from me?”
I turned my head in shame and suddenly struggled to look him in the eye. It was selfish, so incredibly selfish.
“Everything. I need you to be everything you’ve always been.” I held my breath while he processed what I was saying.
“And can you tell me what it is you need from him?”
“Same.”
He nodded once, squeezed my hands tight, and brought us both to our feet. His hands then slid to the nape of my neck, and with a gentle nudge, my head tilted back to bring us once again eye to eye.
“Pres, I’ve never needed you to be more honest with me than I do right now. If I weren’t Paisley’s dad…”
I couldn’t believe his words.
“If you weren’t her dad, what? What are you asking me exactly?”
His sea of blue shimmered in self-doubt, and it was my turn to chase the tears away.
“If you weren’t Paisley’s dad, you’d still be the first person I called with good news and bad. You’d still be the person for whom I would drop everything and drive four hours if you needed me. You’d still be the person who has his own ornament on my Christmas tree and a SpongeBob coffee mug in my cabinet. Carter, I love you for who you are, not what you’ve given me. Though, she is pretty damn amazing.”
Thankfully, my words seemed to get through. He exhaled deeply as though he’d been holding his breath the entire time. I’d have to live with that guilt. How could he even for a moment doubt what he meant to me?
“Greyson.”
I knew he was serious when he used his real name.
“Is he...I mean, is he gonna be around a while? Possibly a long while?”
“I don’t know.”
It was an honest answer. A lot had happened in the short time Greyson had been back in town. A lot had happened between us in that short time, but gone were the days of need. Maybe Greyson was back, maybe he wasn’t. So many maybe’s.
“Hey. Where’d ya go?” Carter had caught me lost in my thoughts.
“Sorry. Just...thinking.”
“I can see that,” he mused, and somehow kept himself from asking more questions. “Text me when she wakes up? I’ve got an errand to run.”
Umm okay. As abrupt as it seemed, I followed his lead. I didn’t question, I didn’t pry. However, I didn’t want him leaving with us in limbo. I caught his hand as he turned to head to my front door.
“Hey you. Are we okay?”
“We’re better than okay. We’re us.”
He pressed a gentle kiss on my forehead, hugged me tight, and slipped out the front door.
Chapter 25
Greyson
The fucker came strolling in with his perfect hair, and his all too perfect clothes, and I’d bet my ass his all too perfect car was parked in the back, nice and safe, far away from the unmentionables. He marched right on over to the bar and made himself a drink.
“Sure, make yourself at home.”
Carter ignored my snide comment and planted his ass on the couch. I really wanted, needed, to hate him, but there was no denying he was a major fixture in Presley’s life. If I was going to fit into that in any way, I’d have to get to where I didn’t want to rip his throat out on sight. Jealousy wasn’t something most men cared to admit, yet there I was.
Aside from her dad, Carter was the most important man in Presley’s life. He not only set the standard for her but also for their daughter. He was everything in both their eyes. I wasn’t sure where I’d fit in, if at all.
I sat across from him, an invisible chessboard between us. Okay, fine, I’d speak first.
“How are they?”
He cocked his head to the side. His contempt for me was palpable, but unlike me, his poker face had always been strong.
“What are you doing here, Tack? Is this some half-assed attempt to salvage your piss poor reputation before the draft?”
The old me would have snatched him up by the throat. The new me, however, breathed steadily. Only after debating old me’s logic, of course.
“I could turn right around and ask you how you didn’t know beforehand with your family’s hand in pretty much everything around here. How could you not?”
“I live four hours away, and your whereabouts was never on my radar. Until now. Just answer the question. What are your intentions?”
“My intentions? Really? You sound like her dad.”
Carter narrowed his eyes as he launched to his feet. “I am.”
He gritted his words slowly. Message received.
“Easy. I never wanted that little girl to see that shit.”
“Cut the shit, Tack. What are you doing with Presley? I won’t stand by and watch you destroy her again. I already picked up the pieces once.”
He really had some fucking nerve. And yet, truth be told, he had every right to question my motives.
“Look, man, nothing I say is going to be good enough, and that’s only partially on you.”
“Partially? You’re kidding, right? Those two are my entire fucking life, and what I won’t do is stand by and watch you do you, just to get your dick wet.”
We found ourselves nose to nose ready to rip one another’s throat out. If I so much as laid one finger on him, Presley would never speak to me again. The idea of us co-existing seemed more impossible by the second, but I had one shot to keep this civil.
“It’s right about now when Coach would split us up.”
“Or try to at least,” he countered and made his way back to the bar for a refill.
“You love her.”
He chose to keep his back to me, but there was no doubt he heard me. I didn’t wait for an answer. It wasn’t a question anyway. I was simply stating facts.
“Let me start over. Presley’s her own woman, and she can do whatever the fuck she chooses to do. She doesn’t need my permission. Something I need you to understand, though, is that she’s family, and I will never not be around. And that little girl? She’s the center of both our worlds. That will never change, and I’m gonna be real fucking honest with you right now: I don’t know that you can handle being second. I mean, you handled it oh so well in high school.”
Right. So he was in the mood to push some buttons.
“You know what mother fucker? That’s enough. You think you can come in here, talk to me any kind of way? You’re looking for a reaction—no, you’re looking for something to take right back to Presley to paint me as the bad guy.”
“You do that all by yourself. You don’t need my help. But again, this isn’t about Presley. Presley isn’t that girl you used to know. She won’t tolerate your bullshit. And to be perfectly honest, she doesn’t need either one of us. Paisley, however, is our daughter. We raise her together, and I need to be comfortable with you being around her. Your temper, the pills…”
I had to keep in mind that Carter knew the high school me. He wasn’t aware of my efforts off the field. It took a while, sure, but I finally recognized the fact that I needed outside help. None of that was his business. Or maybe it was.
The blaring sound of my phone brought both of our attention back to the coffee table that sat between us. Saved by the bell? Not so much. Doc Martinez shone brightly on the screen. Either she could hear the urgency in my voice when I called or someone canceled. Maybe it was both.
Carter’s brows drew tight as he looked to me for answers. I still wasn’t sure if I owed him any, but I was sure I had nothing to hide, to be ashamed of.
“I have to take this.”
It should have been his cue to leave, but instead, he stayed, his face still riddled with questions. I greeted Doc and thanked her for working me in on such short notice, then asked if she could hold for a moment.
“Are we done here?”
“Not by a long shot.”
“Right. Well, it’s time for my therapy session. Ya know, on account of my temper and the pills.”
“Point taken. I’ll see myself out.”
Finally.
I leaned back on the couch to get comfortable. I had a feeling we would pull an all-nighter. I glanced up to see Carter still standing at the door, hand on the knob. What could he possibly want now? Before I had the chance to ask, he looked over his shoulder, gave me one single, hard nod, and then he was gone.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Doc. Alright, shrink me up.”
I’d been with Doc for the past three years. She’d seen me through some dark times and helped me to see I needed to rehab not only my body but my mind as well. I’d had days where the anxiety would cripple me, eat away at me from the inside out. She’d helped me accept the realization that I’d likely be on meds the rest of my life, but along with her management techniques, I truly believed I’d actually have one.
An hour and a half later, I grabbed a cold one, tuned into the NFL network, and slightly obsessed over whether I should text Presley or not. Dax had always insisted on two things: no social media and no commentator debates. One out of two wasn’t too bad. The good news was the clips they chose to air were some of my best. The downside was that of the two, only one of the talking heads projected me to go in the top ten at the draft.
Of the teams who requested pre-draft visits, not one had a pick that high in the draft. But what did I know? I figured it best to leave the projections to the pro’s.
Just as my lids started to droop shut, the ping of my phone damn near brought me to my feet. Once I caught my bearings, I swiped the screen and couldn’t believe my eyes.
Pres: Hey u. So my dad’s birthday is Saturday, and every year we have a backyard BBQ. Maybe you could drop by? Dax too, of course. Anyway, open invite. Sat @ 1pm.
I didn’t even check the time before grabbing my key card, barreling down the hallway, and banging on Dax’s door.
“For fucks sake, Tack.” he grumbled as I rushed past him, further into his room. His spotless, catalog worthy room. Typical Dax. “To what do I owe this double dose? I thought we were good till morning?”
I responded by pressing my phone screen to his nose. “We got time, right?”
Dax sighed loudly. Again with the dramatics.
“I mean, technically? Yes. But are you sure you want to do this? Her dad? Her kid’s dad? Man, I don’t know.”
“Presley’s dad makes the best guac this side of the Brazos.”
“Done.” And he sent me on my way.
I spent the next two and a half hours obsessing over what to wear, what to bring, if I needed a haircut first, and what, if anything, should I get for Presley’s dad. He was a huge football fan, and I’d bet he and his granddaughter spent many Sunday’s together, dissecting the game. I finally decided on giving him tickets to Houston’s home opener, so they could see it in person.
One thing you didn’t do around these parts was show up at a BBQ empty-handed. We’d have to swing by Mickey’s along the way. Once I finally settled on everything, I spent the next hour and a half staring at the ceiling, wondering how I was gonna face her dad.
Presley
I hadn’t expected Carter to return that same night, but he said it was urgent. Paisley loved having her dad tuck her in and read bedtime stories. Once she was fast asleep, we ordered in for a late dinner. Carter seemed deep in thought as we waited. He said he needed to check his emails, but I’d caught him gazing off into nothing.
“A penny for your thoughts?”
His smile was hesitant, but before he could answer, our food arrived. We split mixed veggies, orange chicken, and spicy Mongolian beef bet
ween us. Mid bite, he placed his fork down. I knew that whatever came next was important.
“I went to see Tack, um...Greyson this evening.”
Words failed me, as my heart was lodged in my throat.
“All bias aside, Presley, what’s your impression?”
My impression? I wasn’t sure what he meant exactly, and my face must have told him as much.
“She’s four, Presley. Four years old, and she already worships the ground he walks on! Is he safe for her?”
At first, for Carter to even question my judgment was a slap in the face. But realistically? He was a parent, and once you attain that title, you question anything and everyone who may touch the life of your child. Carter’s concerns were well warranted.
“I don’t know what tomorrow holds,” I explained, “but I do know I’m in no hurry and that Paisley comes first, always. All decisions regarding her, we make together. As long as it’s like you said, all bias aside.”
I could almost see the weight lift from his shoulders. I, too, sighed in relief, knowing Paisley really did have the best father in the world, aside from my own. Speaking of, I thought to lighten the subject.
“Okay, so this Saturday is Dad’s BBQ. Please tell me you can make it. Matthew’s welcome too, obviously.”
His smile was forced. The mention of Matthew seemed to turn him sour lately. I didn’t want to pry but hoped that deep down, he knew he could talk to me about anything.
“I wouldn’t miss it. And what about Tack? He get an invite?”
I wasn’t sure how to respond. I mean, I’d thought to invite him, but between Carter and my dad, he’d likely be walking into an ambush. Carter reached across the table to squeeze my hand.
“Maybe you should. If you think even for a minute that he’s gonna re-enter your life in any kind of way…”
His words trailed off, leaving me with more questions.