Chapter 30
Randy
“No!” she says, her voice tight as she starts to shut the door.
But I’m faster—my hand catches it mid-swing. “Please.”
She hesitates, her fingers still curled around the edge of the door. “What are you doing here?” Her voice isn’t angry. Just tired. Frustrated.
“I wanted to talk to you, and you’re not returning my calls. I was so happy when I noticed we had Written Communication together, but you’re ignoring me in class.” I sigh. “You aren’t leaving me much of a choice here.”
I pull my eyes from hers as a bouncing, brown-haired boy comes to the door and stands beside her. He’s adorable, with the same olive skin and brown eyes as his mother.
Rachel tenses, placing a protective hand on his shoulder as he wraps his small arms around her leg.
“Wow. Do you play football?” he asks, pointing at my team shirt, his eyes widen in awe.
“Hey, buddy. Yeah, I’m quarterback—the best position,” I say with a grin.
He stares at me, dumbfounded. Pure hero worship in miniature form. “Wow, you’re Randy Harrison, aren’t you?”
I crouch to his level, “Sure am,” I beam, loving that he knows who I am. “Do you play?” I ask, soaking in the excitement lighting up his face. His skin is flawless, just like Rachel’s, and he has a dusting of freckles across his little nose.
Rachel runs her hand down his back. “Mom won’t let me.
She says in a few more years. But I like passing the ball around in the yard with my mommy and pop.
I watch your games with my pop all the time.
Pop and I went to your last game. Mommy was meant to come but she wasn’t feeling well. I was sad that you lost.”
I was sad too,” I admit, looking up at Rachel as the confirmation lands—she really wasn’t at my game. I mean, I figured, since Shelby told her she wasn’t going, but I wasn’t completely sure until now.
“You played so good though.”
“Thank you, I’ll have to teach you some passes one day.”
His whole face lights up. “Really? You mean it? That would be awesome!”
“Sure.” I beam at him.
“Santa brought me a signed Raptors football for Christmas.”
“Did he?” I act surprised. “Wow, Santa’s amazing. What a wonderful gift.”
“I know! I love it sooooo much.”
“Okay, Sam,” Rachel says, kneeling down to her son as I stand. “Can you please go inside and help Nanny with the cookies she was baking?”
“Ahh, Mommy,” he whines. “Do I have to?” He stands on his tippy toes to whisper to her not so subtly. “That’s the Raptors quarterback; he’s famous.”
“I’m well aware who he is, honey, now off you go.” She points back inside.
“Fine.” He huffs and then turns to me. “Bye.” Sam waves to me, then heads back inside.
“Bye.” I wave as a beat of guilt runs through my body. What a little legend, and I referred to him as ‘baggage’. I fucking hate myself.
Rachel closes the door and steps out onto the front porch. In cut-off shorts and a loose, oversized t-shirt enveloping her body that reminds me of our first night together. She looks beautiful, and all I want to do is reach out and hold her.
“Wow, he is super cute! He looks just like you.”
Her eyes are downcast, and there's a faint furrow in her brow as she stares at the ground. She folds her arms over her perfect chest and lets out a sigh. “You can’t say things to him like that. It will only upset him when you don’t spend time with him.”
“Who said I won’t? I’m free on Sunday, I can meet you at the park,” I say, laying my charm on thick and pushing down the guilt still racking my body. “I’m free right now, let’s grab the car seat and go,” I say, thumbing to my truck.
“Why are you here?”
“Because I’m such an asshole.”
“No argument here.”
“My feelings for you are—were—freaking me out!” I sigh, raking my hands over my face. “I’ve never experienced it before. It was such a stupid thing to say…”
She looks to me as I ramble on. Then, taking a deep breath, I hold her eye contact.
“This terrifies me. I don’t get feelings for girls like I have you.
You are different, and you have a kid…and he is great,” I quickly add, taking a step closer to her.
“But it’s just I don’t know…scary…and I feel like I was trying to talk myself out of my feelings.
To make up reasons why I’m not right for you.
Why we shouldn’t be together…how my life and your life are so, so… different.”
“Is this meant to be an apology?”
“Yes, because I am sorry, but I’m also here to tell you that this,” I gesture between us. “You, me, and Sam, it doesn’t scare me anymore. Not even a little bit. I want this! I want you, and if Sam is half as amazing as you, then I know he is going to be the cherry on top!”
“I don’t think you deserve to know him right now.”
“Please, Rachel, I do. I get it now. Please, you have to forgive me, let me prove it.”
“I have to go, Randy,” she says, stepping back toward the door and reaching for the handle.
I sidestep parallel to her. “Just think about it, please, Rachel?” I beg.
She gives a small nod, then shuts the door in my pleading face.
Baby steps.
I’ll take anything at this point.