by J. Nathan
I glanced to him. “First of all he’s five. Second, baby daddy? Where do you even come from?”
He laughed. “So what’s the problem?”
“She’s almost thirty.”
Actually saying it aloud, mixed with his silence, had me wondering if dating Marin had been a crazy thing after all. Had I been ignorant to the age difference since I wanted her so badly? Was being part of CJ’s life an irresponsible mistake? Was what we were doing doomed from the start?
“I know what you’re thinking.”
“You have no idea what I’m thinking,” Caden said. “If you like her, who cares?”
“She does. She broke it off.”
Surprise filled his face. “Wow. She got Trace Forester to settle down and decided to end it?”
“She said she doesn’t wanna hold me back. And she needs a constant presence in her son’s life.”
“Sounds like she’s looking out for both of you. Can’t really fault her for that.”
“I don’t. But she’s not listening to fucking reason. And now I hear her ex has been sniffing around.”
“Not much you can do about that. It’s his kid.”
A long silence passed. Now that I’d gone and talked about it, I felt myself becoming more frustrated, angry, and confused that she’d cut me off.
“What about her kid?” Caden asked. “Does he like you?”
“Like me? The kid idolizes me. That’s who I was talking to in the bookstore.”
“Have you spoken to him since...?”
My insides twisted. I hated that I hadn’t spoken to him. And just as badly, I hated admitting that I’d let my little buddy down. I shook my head.
“Well, the Forester I know wouldn’t give up. He rises to the occasion and loves a challenge.”
“I’m no superhero, bro.”
He scoffed. “That’s for sure.”
I laughed, something I hadn’t done since getting kicked to the curb.
“If she won’t let you be with her, at least don’t let the kid down.”
Caden’s dad had abandoned him and his mom, just like the douchebag had with CJ and Marin. So I trusted Caden when he told me what I already knew. No matter what was going on with Marin and me, I needed to stay in touch with CJ. He deserved that.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
OCTOBER
Marin
“Let me get it.” CJ hopped down the front steps. I followed him to the mailbox, realizing it had been days since I’d last retrieved the mail. He pulled out the handful that had accumulated, dropping some of the envelopes to the grass beneath the mailbox.
I squatted and gathered what he’d dropped.
“I got mail,” he screeched.
I stood up, pulling the envelope from his hand. “Let me see this.” He was right. The envelope was addressed to him. The return address sent a chill rushing up my spine.
“Who’s it from?” he asked, the excitement in his voice almost more than I could take.
“Why don’t you open it and see for yourself.” I ran my finger under the sealed flap and handed it back to him.
He dug inside the envelope and pulled out a piece of paper. Two slender cardboard rectangles fluttered to the ground.
I picked them up, staring down at two tickets to Alabama’s next home game.
“Read it to me, Mom.”
I took the paper from his small hand and read it aloud:
Hey Buddy.
I really miss you, but I know you’re busy learning all sorts of cool stuff in kindergarten. I hope you’ve been practicing on my net. Next time I’m home I demand a rematch for our last game. I still can’t believe you beat me! Oh, and I hope football is still going well. You’ll need to fill me on everything.
Listen, if you didn’t notice, I sent two tickets for my next football game. I was hoping you and your mom could come and see me play. If you have plans, I understand, but I really want to see you.
Say hi to your mom for me. And I hope to see you both next Saturday.
Trace
I dropped the letter to my side and pulled in a shaky breath. I knew he still cared about CJ. A gesture like that just reaffirmed it. Reaffirmed I was keeping Trace away from someone who adored him. Two people who adored him.
CJ plucked the tickets from my hand and jumped around waving them over his head. “Can we go, Mom? Can we?”
It wasn’t a question of could we go. It was could I handle going?
But was I really willing to keep CJ away from Trace in order to save my own heart? To appease Charles?
It seemed like an unnecessary risk, but also a no-brainer.
Trace
“Dude. You should go out there,” I urged Caden from the high top table where we sat. Finlay and her hot little roommate Sabrina had joined us at the bar, but then left us to dance.
Caden’s eyes jumped from the dance floor to me. “Why?”
“Because some other guy is gonna think she’s single and dance all up in her space.” I took a swig of my beer. “And I’m in no mood to throw down tonight.”
Caden shook his head. “I don’t dance.”
“That’s not what Finlay said. She said you’re a natural, especially when you go to that honky-tonk near her house.”
He burst out laughing. “She said that?”
I nodded.
With a big dopey grin, he jumped down from his stool and wove through the bodies on the dance floor, stepping up behind Finlay and grabbing her hips. The look on her face when she thought some guy was feeling her up was priceless. But Caden quickly earned a smile from Finlay when she realized he had grabbed her. My gut clenched watching them. I hadn’t realized how much I missed surprise smiles from Marin when I did something to elicit them.
Fuck that.
This night was about forgetting. Because I’d taken the high road and sent tickets and got nothing in return. Not a call. Not a text. Nothing.
I tipped back my beer and took a long swig. Why the hell hadn’t she contacted me? She’s the one who ended it. So why blow me off? Was she afraid of what would happen if she spoke to me? If I reminded her how good we were together?
On the dance floor, Finlay threw back her dark waves in laughter as Caden pulled her into him, dropping a kiss on her lips as they moved to the music. I averted my gaze, glancing around the crowded bar. Girls nearby were getting ready to swarm. I could tell in the way they got all giggly once I made eye contact. For some reason, once midnight hit, girls got gutsy, throwing themselves at me like I was something special because I played football. But right then, in a crowded bar at a table all alone, I was a sitting duck.
“Shameless.”
My head twisted to my left. Sabrina had slipped onto the stool beside me, her cheeks flushed, her long blonde hair a halo of light in the otherwise dark bar. I knew from the times we’d hung out with Caden and Finlay that she wasn’t a girl to throw herself at anybody. She was too hot for that. But I hadn’t missed the way her hand brushed mine when she laughed at my jokes or the way she leaned into me if we were walking beside each other. My eyes narrowed on hers. “What?”
“The girls. They’re shamelessly ogling you. Now if you enjoy that kind of attention—which I’ve heard you do, I can leave you alone and let the vultures descend. But if you’re as scared as you look right now, well, I can sit here and keep them at bay.”
“I’m not scared.”
“Oh sure,” Sabrina laughed. “I’m sure nothing scares you.”
I took another long swig of my beer. “I didn’t say nothing scares me. I just said girls don’t scare me.”
“Yeah, but there’s a difference between girls and drunk girls.”
“What’s that?”
She smirked. “Drunk girls have no shame. And oftentimes no underwear.”
I choked on my drink. “What makes you an expert?”
She lifted her shoulder. “I may have been one of those girls at one time.”
“Panty-less?”
She cocked he
r head, but I could see she wanted to laugh. “If you want to pretend you’re not scared of what might happen if I leave you alone...”
My eyes assessed her. She certainly had looks, but I wondered if she realized how amusing she was. I stuck out my hand. “Have we met? I’m Trace Forester.”
I was just joking of course; we’d known each other for almost a year, when we met at the same bar. That night, some jerkoffs were harassing Sabrina and Finlay, and I’d come to their rescue. I’d also gotten her number but didn’t call because I didn’t want Finlay hating me for sleeping with her roommate.
Sabrina laughed as she extended her hand, going along with the charade. “Sabrina. Finlay’s brilliant roommate and killer dancer.”
I laughed. It had been some time since I’d laughed with a girl and meant it. “Well, Finlay’s brilliant roommate and killer dancer, why don’t we let these girls down easily and—” I ticked my head toward Caden and Finlay on the dance floor. “Show those two how it’s done?”
She laughed as she hopped down from her stool. “I thought you’d never ask.”
I placed my hand on the small of her back and led her out to the dance floor, elbowing Caden as we moved into the space beside him and Finlay. The music blared through the speakers above us making it easier to find my rhythm with Sabrina. I put my hands on her hips as she smiled up at me. Within minutes, she’d grabbed my hand and lifted it in the air, spinning herself under my arm, laughing as she did. Forget the girls watching me. The guys around the bar were focused on her and the way she moved her ass as she twirled around the dance floor. She turned to Finlay and grabbed her hand, ditching me to dance with her.
“Watch out for that one,” Caden called over the music.
“I can handle her,” I assured him.
He rolled his eyes as we moved closer to the girls, dancing behind them and showing off our best moves.
Eventually, a slow song replaced the dance music. Caden pulled Finlay into his arms, which left Sabrina looking to me. I held out my hand. She smiled as she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around my neck. Her small body was a stark contrast to my tall build but I made it work, pulling her close and moving to the music.
“See,” she said, staring up at me as the colorful dance floor lights reflected off her face. “No vultures.”
“I guess I have you to thank for that.”
She flashed a smile that tightened my balls. She was definitely the type of girl I’d taken home in the past. The type who liked to have fun. The type who let me have fun with her.
I stared into her blue eyes, looking for a sign that what I was about to do was a very bad idea. That it was way too soon. That I shouldn’t go for it. But I found nothing. I was a single college guy. I could do whatever the hell I wanted to do. And if I wanted to have fun with a single girl, then hell, I was going to.
I smiled, flashing the dimpled smile that made girls go home with me. But Sabrina seemed unaffected by it. I knew from Caden that she made guys work for it. And something told me it’d totally be worth it. “Sorry I never called.”
“Are you?” she asked.
My smile grew as I stared down at this sassy girl and nodded. “Would it be all right if I called now?”
“Depends.” She tilted her head. “Are you going to this time or just keep me on what I assume to be a list of girls you might call late night if you’re lonely?”
I laughed, liking the confident way she carried herself, keeping guys like me in check. I lifted a brow. “Which would you prefer?”
She pondered my question as the music continued to fill the dance floor. “I’d prefer to wait to find out.”
I stifled a grin. “Deal.” Yep. Working for it.
Maybe I was ready to move on.
Maybe Marin’s radio silence had pushed me to move on.
Maybe being there and dancing with Sabrina was the push I needed to get back out there. The one that said I’d get over my heart being crushed into a million tiny little pieces sooner than I thought.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Marin
We pulled into the stadium parking lot and followed the path the parking attendants directed us toward. CJ was practically bouncing out of his booster seat as I found our spot in the back of the crowded lot and turned off the ignition.
I closed my eyes for a long moment, inhaling a much-needed deep breath. I’d barely eaten all week. My stomach churned with nausea one minute then filled with anxious butterflies the next. Sure, I’d watched Trace’s games on television, but being there, in seats he’d set aside for us, set my nerves on edge.
“You okay, Mom?”
My eyes snapped open. “Yep. Fine.” I glanced over my shoulder at CJ. “Ready?” I laughed as his door flew open and he unbuckled himself. I met him at his open door, grabbed his hand, and we were off.
We fit in with the rest of the crowd hurrying toward the entrance in our Alabama T-shirts. I obviously didn’t wear the shirt I’d made for Trace, not wanting him to read into it. Though, I highly doubted he cared what I did anymore. Remembering what he said about girls painting his number on their cheeks, I’d painted it on CJ’s cheeks in white paint. I’d forgone the paint and opted for comfort, torn skinny jeans and flip-flops.
Once we stepped into the stadium, it was entirely different from the last time we’d been there. The once vacant seats were filled with a sea of red. The noise reverberated around the stadium creating an almost electric buzz. Thankfully, I’d brought earplugs for CJ. The noise was way too loud for his little ears to endure.
We found our usher standing at the start of our section and followed him down the steep concrete steps. Each time I thought he planned to stop to point us to our seats, he just kept descending until we’d stopped at the first row behind the bench. My stomach dipped at the sight of the players on the field, my eyes instantly searching for Trace’s number eighty-two jersey. We’d definitely see him in those seats, and he’d undoubtedly see us.
I glanced around at all the anxious fans filling the massive stadium. Trace had been right about all the girls with his number painted on their cheeks. But he hadn’t mentioned the signs with various messages to him. By the looks of it, you’d think he was already in the pros.
“There he is,” CJ yelled, pointing out at the field.
Trace tossed the football with his quarterback and roommate, Caden Brooks. He looked so at home out there on the field. In his uniform. In his element. He caught a pass and when he pulled his arm back to throw the ball, his eyes snagged on us.
CJ jumped around, waving his arms in the air like a little maniac. I laughed at his excitement as Trace lifted his hand and waved, a smile spreading across his face. My body quivered as his eyes shifted to mine. I quickly leaned down and whispered something to CJ, anything to avert my gaze from Trace’s.
Before long, the game began and Trace had an amazing first half. And even though he hadn’t scored a touchdown, he already had eighty receiving yards, which was quite impressive. He looked so confident out there. The way he ran. The way he caught passes so effortlessly. The field was where he belonged. He was born to play football. That I could see clearly now.
At half time, CJ and I shared a huge container of popcorn. He was having so much fun, it was literally breaking my heart to know that could’ve been our life with Trace. That could’ve been our reality—if Charles hadn’t interfered and Janine hadn’t gotten into my head.
I glanced around at all the fans. All the pretty girls. Trace could have any one of them. And the notion turned my stomach.
I was doing the right thing. I just wished it didn’t hurt so badly.
The second half of the game began, and within the first two minutes, Trace caught a thirty-yard pass and ran the remaining length of the field. CJ and I were on our feet with the rest of the crowd cheering as Trace dodged around his opponents and took it to the end zone for a touchdown. The stadium roared. But instead of spiking the ball in the end zone as we’d seen him do on television, he tu
rned with the ball and ran toward the sideline. Ignoring everyone who approached to congratulate him, he headed directly toward us.
My eyes widened and my stomach dropped to my feet. Trace stopped in front of us, reaching up and handing CJ the ball. The fans around us cheered as I just about melted to my spot.
Beneath his helmet, Trace’s eyes cut to mine and he winked before turning back to the field and celebrating with his teammates.
“Trace gave me the ball,” CJ said, hugging the ball to his chest.
People around us patted CJ on the back. You’d have thought he’d won a million bucks given the way he beamed with pride over Trace’s amazing gift. I didn’t blame him. Trace had made him feel special—something Trace was so incredibly good at doing.
Trace
The play clock ticked down and the game ended with us kicking the shit out of Arkansas. Our offensive line looked good and made it easy for Caden to complete his passes, hence my nearly two-hundred-yard game. I wondered if CJ and Marin being there had anything to do with it.
I glanced to their seats on my way off the field. They were empty. Why hadn’t they waited to talk to me? Didn’t they realize I wanted to see them?
Ignoring reporters who wanted an interview, I rushed into the locker room, pulling my phone from my bag. Marin hadn’t texted. What the hell? I sent off a text to her. Thanks for bringing him.
Marin’s message popped up immediately. Thanks for the tickets.
Seeing her words gave me the same nervous excitement seeing her in the seats had. I didn’t think I’d be affected. I didn’t think I’d care. But I was thrown off balance by the sight of them. By the urge I felt to go to them. By the urge I felt to talk to them. And what I also didn’t expect was the way having them there motivated me. I wanted to give CJ a role model he could be proud of. It was the first time I wasn’t concerned with crushing our opponent, breaking another school record, or just making myself look good out there. It was about CJ.
And don’t get me started on Marin standing there in a Bama T-shirt. I’m not gonna lie. It gave me a sliver of hope she was there to see me and not just because I’d sent tickets. But deep down I knew she wasn’t there for me. She was there so CJ could see me play. I needed to remember that. I needed to remember we were over.