Fumbled (Playbook, The)

by Alexa Martin

  “Sure.” Truth? I always want to eat.

  Or drink.

  Or eat and drink.

  But mainly, right now, I want to do anything with TK and Ace. I want to soak up enough goodness with them both so that when this ends, I’ll have enough memories to get me through.

  “Cool. Let me shower real fast.” He leans down and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Yo, Ace!” he shouts across the field. “While you’re beating them, think of what you want for lunch.”

  “Burgers!” Ace shouts back, needing zero time to think about it.

  “I can’t stand your ass,” Justin grumbles, shoving one of TK’s shoulders.

  TK laughs, fighting to catch his balance from the unexpected assault. “You all love me,” he says to Justin, but winks at me.

  I shake my head and roll my eyes but he knows I’m full of it too. TK is one of those annoying people who makes a friend with every person he comes across. That stupid smile, his inability to take anything too seriously for too long, his hotness. Even when I wanted to hate him, I couldn’t. Even when I was trying to guard my heart, he made it impossible.

  It’s the worst.

  And kind of the best.

  And totally where Ace gets it from.

  Twenty

  “Did you have fun?” I kick off my flip-flops, too exhausted even to attempt to put them in my closet.

  “Fun?” Ace repeats like he can’t believe I have the audacity to ask such a ridiculous question. “It wasn’t just ‘fun.’ It was the best day ever! TK introduced me to like every player on the team, even Maxwell Lewis!”

  Maxwell Lewis is the veteran safety for the Mustangs. Most kids are obsessed with quarterbacks. You know, the big plays and jazzy touchdowns. Not Ace. Besides TK—for obvious reasons—Ace is all about defense. My laptop browser is always filled to the brim with YouTube clips of interceptions and pick-sixes. Ace has forced me to watch multiple clips, and I’d be lying if I said the guy didn’t impress me too. Plus, from the three seconds I spoke to him, and the five minutes he indulged my kid by answering every question Ace had in his arsenal, Maxwell seemed like an even better human being.

  He’s also smokin’ hot.

  Ace didn’t notice that.

  “I can’t wait to go back to school! Everyone is gonna be so jealous.” Ace collapses onto the couch. “Especially Hunter, he never stops bragging about his family’s stupid season tickets.” He closes his eyes, but the smug smile that doesn’t belong on his sweet face never fades.

  I’d tell him to stop, but after seeing him with his twin all day, it’s nice to recognize he still picked up something from me. Even if it is vengeance and pettiness.

  “Am I right to assume you want to go again tomorrow?” I waste my breath on a question I already know the answer to.

  “Duh!” His eyes fly open and he’s off the couch just as fast, bouncing up and down. “I want to go every day!”

  “Duh,” I repeat after him. “Why’d I even ask?”

  “I don’t know. Moms do weird things.” He shrugs his shoulders like he didn’t just insult mothers across the globe. “Is it okay if I see if Jayden’s home? I want to tell him all about today and give him the extra hat TK gave me.”

  I shouldn’t feel guilty about the way things have gone down with Cole. I told him from the very beginning I wasn’t looking for a relationship. But men never believe me when I tell them I want to keep it casual. I don’t know if they think women are incapable of catching feelings or men possess a magical penis that casts a spell on our poor, unsuspecting vaginas, but they always end up shocked when I’m not pounding on their door and begging for a ring.

  Cole is no different.

  And knowing Ace is going to go over there, and I can guarantee with a great certainty, spend the entire night talking about TK? It makes me feel awful and awkward—awkful?—and I’m already enough of that without these added circumstances.

  “That’s fine, but you need to shower first.” I wonder how old boys have to be to care about personal hygiene enough not to need to be reminded to take a shower?

  “Deal!” Ace shouts, and starts to run to the bathroom.

  “Wait!” I shout after him, and thanks to his socks and speed, he slides straight into the wall, bounces off, and lands on his butt. “Are you okay?” I ask once my laughter has died down a bit, because, you know, straight Mom of the Year right here.

  “Yeah.” He cringes, rubbing his tush. “What were you gonna say?”

  “Never mind.” I wipe the tears from the corners of my eyes. “I can’t remember now.”

  “Moms,” he mutters, rolling his eyes to the back of his head.

  “’Kay.” I wave away his bruised and stinky butt. “Shower. Now.”

  * * *

  • • •

  I’M WAVING TO Cole right after Ace goes into his house when a familiar car turns onto my street. The bass from a rap song, which, if it were the clean version, would likely have only two words in it, booms from the windows. It’s a stark contrast to the custom paint job that consists of more glitter than actual paint and the rhinestone-encrusted license plate holder that I’m certain has to be a road hazard.

  “Hey, girl. I didn’t know you were coming over,” I say to Sadie as she opens her door.

  “Oh, don’t you even ‘Hey, girl’ me right now!” she shouts, her cheeks nearly as red as her hair and the long, pointed acrylic nail aimed at me. “I can’t believe you!”

  I take a hesitant step back. Sadie on a rampage is a dangerous thing, and getting glitter out of my curls is impossible. “Um . . . what?”

  She puts her hands on her hips and stomps one platform-heeled foot on the cracked cement sidewalk. “Did you have a fun morning? Do anything exciting?”

  Oh. Shit.

  But how? We just got home!

  “I was going to—”

  “No,” she says, cutting me off. “I’m not doing this out here. The emergency rosé is in the trunk.” She waves her hands in front of my face as she walks past me, opening my gate with her foot. I accidentally inhale a strong whiff of nail polish and glue that makes me a little light-headed. “I was at the nail salon when I found out and left without properly drying my nails, so you have to grab it if you want it. And by that, I mean grab it, because I have a feeling I’m going to need wine with this conversation.”

  I follow her direction because . . . well . . . glitter bombs . . . and the guilt of my best friend finding out about me and TK from anybody besides me has me feeling so awful I’d do just about anything to make it up to her.

  I walk into my house and she’s already on her favorite corner of my couch with two glasses on the table and holding her phone—which might as well be a freaking gun with the way she’s waving it around—in her hand.

  “Fucking training camp!” she screeches as soon as I turn the deadbolt on my door. “Not only are you apparently on speaking terms with TK again, you’re going to training camp and kissing on the fucking field!”

  “Whoa.” I plop down on the couch and twist open the cap on the wine. “Since Ace isn’t here, I’m not going to make you put money in the swear jar.”

  “Poppy, I swear to God, if you don’t—” She stops when her voice starts to quiver and swipes her hands across her cheeks.

  Oh crap.

  Sadie doesn’t cry.

  She masks her pain in pink and glitter and sarcasm.

  But she doesn’t cry.

  “Oh my god. No. Don’t cry!” I shove the glass of wine into her hand.

  “Why wouldn’t you tell me about this?” she asks. The hurt in her voice is enough to cut me.

  “I was going to, I swear. It just happened so fast,” I try to explain, even though now that she’s in front of me, I know I should’ve reached out. “The day before Phil fired me, TK saw me at the park during Ace’s s
occer tryout. Of course, this happened at the end of practice because the only luck I have is the bad kind, and Ace ran up to us. When TK saw him, he finally pulled his head out of his ass and realized I wasn’t lying. Then that night, he showed up at the Emerald Cabaret when I was walking to my car. We talked and set up a time for him to meet Ace.”

  With every word that comes out of my mouth, the glassy sheen of tears coating Sadie’s eyes starts to fade and they widen in sync with her jaw dropping.

  “Wait . . . so Ace saw him too?” she asks, blindly setting her glass on the table.

  “Yeah, he was so starstruck. But the thought of TK being his dad obviously didn’t even cross his mind . . . even when TK was staring at him like a freaking weirdo.” I roll my eyes and shake my head, thinking back to how uncool TK played that meeting. “Anyways, someone saw us . . . or more specifically, saw TK and snapped some pictures. Rochelle found out about it and told Phil that the Mustang players weren’t coming in because of me and that’s why he fired me.”

  I see the puzzle pieces starting to shift into place for her, and I keep going when she doesn’t say anything. “So TK came over on Monday to see Ace. He brought Ace a truckload of Mustangs gear and we went out to eat. They hit it off. They love the same food and movies. TK was clinging to every word Ace said like he couldn’t get enough of him and Ace thinks TK hangs the stars.” I fight to keep the hearts out of my eyes and my voice from turning to mush, but I know I fail enormously when Sadie slumps into the cushion and holds her hand over her heart. “TK ended up staying over . . . no, not in my room,” I clarify when she sits up straight and her mouth opens to no doubt ask if we slept together. “But we talked that night and he invited us to training camp and oh!” I remember that I haven’t even told her I’m not longer unemployed. “He knows the owner of HERS—”

  “That cute-ass restaurant down the street?” she asks, cutting me off, a giddy smile on her face as she bounces so hard on my couch that the cushions around her fall to the floor.

  “Yeah, that one.” I’m pretty sure my smile matches hers. Good news isn’t something I’m usually privy to, so I’m enjoying this immensely. “So Brynn, that’s her name, Brynn, she hired me on the spot when I went in the other day!”

  “Shut up! That’s amazing! You have to tell me when you work so I can come see you . . . and try a cocktail or two.” She’s been hounding me about trying HERS out one day, it’s just when I had days off, I never wanted to go out. So my new J-O-B benefits both of us. “So what else?”

  Damn. I thought that was a lot. “What else is there to say?”

  “What do you mean, ‘What else is there to say’? Are you insane? The most eligible bachelor in Denver just helped you get a job, invited you to training camp, and has been hanging out with your son.” She crosses the small space between us and grabs my face so hard, I’m ninety percent sure I’ll have finger indents on my cheeks. “Your son together with TK!”

  “Sadie.” I drag out her name as I peel her hands off my face and bring them down to her sides, not letting go because, clearly, this topic has stolen the little bit of self-control she has. “Calm down.”

  “How the fuck can I be calm? How are you so calm? TK Moore is your baby daddy and now he’s actually your baby daddy! Are you even going to work at HERS? Are you going to move in with him? Are you going to become one of the lunching bitches who takes tennis lessons?”

  “First of all, please never say ‘baby daddy’ again.” Gross. “And anyway, he’s always been Ace’s dad. Ace is nine. TK’s DNA didn’t just magically jump into Ace while he was sleeping the other night.”

  Sadie opens her mouth to interrupt, but my death stare and squeeze of her hands halt her words.

  “To answer your other insane questions. Yes, I’m going to work at HERS. I haven’t even started yet, how could I already be thinking of quitting? No, I’m not moving in with him. And definitely no to becoming a lady who lunches and plays tennis. TK is back for Ace, not me,” I reassure her. Even though I might take back the no-tennis declaration. I really would like to learn how to play, it looks like a lot of fun.

  “But you are going to start collecting child support, right? Because your baby . . .” She stops when I accidentally emit a low growl. “I mean, Ace’s dad is loaded. You’ve been doing it on your own for nine years, it’d be nice if he helped out.”

  “I really haven’t even thought that far ahead. Child support means court, court means lawyers, lawyers mean money I don’t have much of.” I take a deep breath and whisper my fears out loud for the first time. “Things between us are going really well. I don’t know if I want to rock the boat. If he were to go to court for custody, who are they going to give it to? The single mom who didn’t inform the father about their child? Or TK Moore, Denver’s golden child whose house could probably swallow my house without chewing? I just don’t want to take any chances.”

  “I don’t agree because you deserve a helping hand.” Sadie wiggles her hands free from mine and pulls me in for a hug. “But I understand. Fingers crossed he does the right thing without you having to ask him.”

  “Now . . .” I point to the wine sitting untouched on my table and try to change the subject. “Ace is gone and I did a lot of peopling today, let’s drink and see if there are any new episodes of RuPaul’s Drag Race on.”

  “That right there?” Sadie says, grabbing her glass of wine. “That’s why we’re friends.”

  Not the highest standards, but hey, I’ll take what I can get.

  Twenty-one

  “Hi, Miss Jane!” Ace calls out as he darts past her and runs straight to the stairs leading to the Mustang practice fields.

  This journey out to Dove Valley almost made the mayhem of yesterday fade away.

  Almost.

  There is still a big crowd and more than one drunk idiot stumbling across the street, but the masses didn’t come out in full force this evening. Plus, knowing where to park kept my stress levels from rising above a four.

  “I take it he enjoyed himself yesterday?” Jane asks with a smile that makes her already kind face even warmer.

  “You could say that,” I say. “You could also say it was the absolute best day of his life, which is what he’s told anybody who’d listen to him for the past twenty-four hours.”

  “That’s just wonderful.” She tucks her clipboard under her arm and claps. “What about you? Did you have fun?”

  I think for a minute before answering, “I did.” I tell her the truth and I’m still a little surprised by my answer.

  Jane’s smile is smaller this time, but there’s understanding and quiet support in her eyes. “I thought you would.”

  I return her smile and make my way to the family tent. The hesitation and fear I felt yesterday are missing and in their place is excitement at a chance to talk with Vonnie and Charli and watch Ace run wild with his new friends.

  And to see TK in his football pants, but that’s a given.

  I walk through the opening in the air-conditioned tent and spot Charli and Vonnie sitting at the same table we were at yesterday. I also note that Dixie and her friends, all wearing caked-on makeup, cleavage-revealing tank tops, and skintight jeans, are at least in flats today. I mean, they’re covered with the intertwining C’s of Chanel and G’s of Gucci with coordinating handbags slung over their shoulders, but at least I’m not the only one not rocking five-inch heels.

  “Hey, girl!” Vonnie calls across the tent, drawing Dixie’s attention my way. I watch with avid fascination as her smile transforms from actual happiness to a plastic one that does nothing to conceal her disdain toward me.

  I aim a smile almost as fake as hers in her direction before waving to Vonnie and maneuvering around tables.

  “Hey!” I flop onto the hard, plastic-backed chair. “I didn’t know if you guys were going to be here.”

  “Me and my crew will be at every pract
ice unless there’s been a grave or critical injury.” She lifts a water bottle to her red-painted lips. “I need them to work out their energy someplace that’s not my just-been-cleaned house . . . because, I swear, all I fucking do is clean up for them to make an even bigger mess.”

  “And I’m bored.” Charli shrugs, her gleaming chestnut hair not moving out of place. “I binged all the good shows the first couple of days they were gone. Now all I have to do is study and who wants to do that?”

  Next to Charli, Vonnie purses her lips and rolls her neck, a look I’m already well acquainted with. “You do,” she says, attitude kicked up about a hundred levels.

  Charli scrunches her nose and shrugs her shoulders. “But do I really?”

  “Yes,” Vonnie says. “You do. You’ve worked your ass off for this, and you do not want to be known as ‘Shawn’s wife’ for the rest of your life. You’re going to want him to be ‘Charli’s husband’ at some point.” Vonnie casts a quick glance over her shoulder toward where our boys can be seen running and falling all over the place. “Trust and believe. This ‘football wife’ shit gets old real quick. I can’t wait to go back to work.”

  I nod my head in agreement even though I have never been a football wife nor have I graduated from college, but Vonnie does put forth a convincing argument. She’s probably an amazing lawyer.

  “Uggghhhh,” Charli groans, and aims her sunglass-covered eyes at the field, where the team is taking part in some delicious stretching. “You’re right,” she agrees, though begrudgingly.

  “I know,” Vonnie says before her eyes follow Charli’s to the field. “Good God Almighty, thank you, Jesus.” She lifts her hands to the heavens in praise. “That man of yours is so damn fine.”

  I look for Charli’s husband, but I can’t see the numbers since they’re all bent over, touching their toes. “Where’s Shawn?” I ask, not wanting to miss this show.

  “Not Shawn,” they tell me in unison.

  “She’s talking to you,” Charli says, a smile pulling at her lips.