4. Chapter 4
Chapter 4
LANE
I’m every bit as distracted on the walk home from the park as I was on the way there. Only this time, Sophie’s hand is tucked safely inside mine, and it’s a certain boy occupying my thoughts.
Teagan Nichols.
I roll the name over in my mind, and I can’t help but smile as I picture him in my head. The blond curls, his toned chest beaded with sweat, those piercing blue eyes, and the dimples. Oh, lord, those dimples. They’re enough to bring a woman to her knees.
Which would explain why I gave him my number, because I don’t give out my phone number. Ever.
I’ve been on the mom wagon for four years now, and any time a guy even gets a hint that I’m a single mom, they run in the other direction. Which is fine by me. I’ve never once been tempted to give any man access to me since becoming a parent. My life is busy enough as it is between Sophie and school and work without adding another dynamic to it. I barely have time for friends, let alone anything resembling a relationship.
Yet I gave my number to Teagan. Why?
Because complications make life interesting.
I shake my head, a smile ghosting over my lips. Maybe he’s right. Maybe complications do make life interesting. And maybe I’m about to find out because that’s what any man entering my life would be—a complication—to me, to Sophie, and I’d certainly be a huge one for them. If I started something, I’d open not only myself up to heartbreak, but her, too. And even if I were willing to risk my heart, I’m not willing to risk hers.
She’s lucky to have people who love her so unconditionally. She has no clue what it feels like to have someone in your life walk away from you because they don’t feel like you’re worth the hassle. But I do. And I’ll protect her from that kind of rejection as long as I can shield her.
So, I wonder once again, what the hell provoked me to give him my number.
Because it felt good to feel desired?
Because for some reason, he came off as completely genuine in a way no one has in a really long time?
My gut tells me I can trust him, and tomorrow, I might very well wake up and regret giving him my number. But for now, I’m okay with it, even if I am dumbfounded by it. All I know is he saved Sophie’s life today. I hate to think of what would’ve happen had he not been there.
I shake my head.
I won’t go there. I won’t think of the “what-ifs” when everything turned out all right in the end. Instead, I’ll allow myself this rare moment of excitement and anticipation at the notion he might call.
Once we reach the house, I shove my thoughts of Teagan aside as I take Sophie through the garage, where we stow her new ball before entering the house into the laundry room.
I help Sophie take off her shoes, then watch as she runs toward the hallway for the kitchen as I follow close behind, finding my mother at the sink rinsing vegetables.
“Geema!” Sophia cries as she runs up to her and wraps her arms around her legs.
My mother curls an arm around her. “There’s my girl. Have fun at the park?”
I hold my breath, waiting to see if she’ll mention anything about Teagan or the ball. When she doesn’t, I breathe a sigh of relief, then wonder why that is.
Before I can give it much thought, I help Sophie wash her hands at the sink, then head for the pantry as she runs into the living room. I find a bag of the cinnamon apple chips she likes and take them to her where she sits on the couch, waiting for me to put a cartoon on.
Between the adrenaline from Sophie’s near run-in with a fender, my interaction with Teagan, and the stress of the roof estimate, I could really use some time to unwind. Maybe even close my eyes before I need to make Sophie her dinner. Which means I better get the conversation with my father over with before exhaustion sinks its teeth into me.
“Is Dad around?” I ask my mother as I enter the kitchen once more to find she’s moved on to bagging the veggies.
“You know where to find him.” She glances up at me with an arched brow, and I nod.
Of course. Though it’s his day off, any spare time during the season is dedicated to work: watching game tape, going over plays, and assessing strategy for the week.
“Everything okay?” Mom asks, eyeing me closely.
I never have been able to hide anything from my mother. Even my pregnancy. She knew from the moment I discovered I was pregnant that something wasn’t right. After weeks of trying my best to hide the truth, she wore me down until I caved.
The weight of the roof estimate is heavy in my pocket as I nod. “Yeah. Everything’s fine. Just need to talk to him about something.” I force a smile then turn, poking my head into the living room to tell Soph I’ll be right back, but she barely acknowledges me, too preoccupied with the preening unicorns on the screen.
My father’s office is at the end of the hall on the first floor, and as I draw closer, the familiar sounds of a football game reach my ears. The cheering fans, the sharp trill of the referee’s whistle, the confident rasp of the sports announcer’s voice. As weird as it is, those sounds offer me a weird kind of peace. I’ve been hearing them my whole life. I practically grew up on the football field.
The door is cracked but I knock anyway, knowing I need to give him a minute to take his mind off whatever thoughts are running through his head while the game plays on the screen.
I open the door further and step inside to see his gaze trained on the television, watching with rapt attention before he pauses it and turns back to me.
The rumpled state of his salt and pepper hair tells me he’s been running his hands through it, a clear sign he’s stressed.
“You ready for next Saturday?” I ask. It’s the first game of the season and they’ll be playing a team ranked higher than them.
He exhales and leans back in his desk chair, the leather squawking with the movement. “No. But we will be. It’s gonna be a tough one. Alabama look really good this year, but so does Chance. He’s strong, maybe stronger than ever.”
Right.
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Chance Lockhart, Daddy’s claim to fame and his secret weapon. There’s no doubt the talented quarterback is the reason for CU’s winning season these last two years. He’s also the reason Dad got the coaching position at CU in the first place. Although he doesn’t know I know this, I overheard the conversation several years ago and clung to it, praying for his sake everything worked out, and it did. My father has dreamed of coaching at collegiate level for Cumberland ever since a college injury took him off the CU field, and I was thrilled for his sake that his dreams came to fruition, even if it was in part due to Chance’s success.
I may be young, but I’m old enough to know not everyone is lucky enough to achieve their dream in this lifetime, and it couldn’t have happened to a more deserving man. Both of my parents have been nothing short of incredible, supporting me through my pregnancy, withstanding the gossip and the scrutiny that comes with having a pregnant teen.
They lost friends over my indiscretion. Not to mention sleepless nights, stress, and money. Though I’ve tried my best to buffer any sacrifice on their part—because it was my actions that landed me here, not theirs—they inevitably paid a price for it. When you’re seventeen and pregnant, and lucky enough to have the support of your family, you lean on them whether you want to or not; to some degree, it’s impossible not to.
After Sophie was born, I took the full brunt of responsibility on my shoulders. I do everything in my power not to inconvenience them. I don’t accept money. I have a sitter who stays with Soph when I’m at school. I buy groceries and pay my own car insurance.
I’m cognizant of the time they spend with her, ensuring it’s the kind of quality time a grandparent would normally spend with their grandchild so as not to take advantage. I don’t expect them to provide childcare. Both of them are in their midforties and still young. They have careers and a life outside of mine. The only thing I’ve regularly accepted from them since her birth is the roof over my head, because that I couldn’t turn down. Not if I want to build a better life for us.
In short, I don’t take handouts or favors. But I’m about to take one—a favor, that is. Or maybe it’s not a favor so much as it’s nepotism at play. Either way, it sits in my stomach like a lead brick.
“Lane?” he asks and I blink, noting the concern flickering in his eyes and realize he’s been talking while I’ve been zoning out.
“Oh. Sorry. I just . . .” I shake my head. “It’s been a long morning.”
His brow furrows. “I was asking what I can do for you.”
I clear my throat, fighting the urge to fiddle with my hands. “Remember the job you offered me last year?”
“The assistant spot working with Reid?” he asks, referring to the team’s equipment manager.
I nod. “That’s the one. Is it filled yet?”
“Not yet.” He leans back in his desk chair, fighting a smile. “I may or may not have told him to drag his feet posting it, but I’m hoping that’s about to change?”
It’s a question. He must sense I’m about to cave.
The hope I see in his eyes should make me feel better about taking the job, but it doesn’t. I hate feeling like I earned it only by name alone. I hate that people who have connections tend to get ahead in life, even if my father falls into the same category. It’s such an unfair advantage to those who don’t have any. I have no doubt the assistant spot will look good on my résumé, even if it has nothing to do with the degree I’m pursuing. My desire to major in sports therapy has everything to do with my upbringing and nothing to do with the fact that my father can get me a job as soon as I graduate. Hell, had I been a boy, I have no doubt I’d be playing college ball right now. But Mom and Dad didn’t have a boy, and after my mother had me and needed an emergency hysterectomy a few months later, their shot at ever having another child went out the window.
“I’ll take it,” I say, thinking of the estimate in my pocket, thinking of Sophie. It’ll make me far more money than my at-home gig doing data entry does. Plus, maybe if I’m smart with my time, I can still do both.
My father grins. Truthfully, he knows this will help me, but I also think he’s just as excited to have me on the field with him, working side by side.
“It’s about time. Glad to see you’ve come to your senses. This internship will make you a shoo-in for a job after you graduate. What made you change your mind?”
I shrug, racking my brain for a reason that doesn’t involve the roof estimate, because he’ll only offer to give me money. As a college coach to a team in the Big Ten, he makes a ridiculous amount of money, and when I refuse, it’ll turn into an argument.
“I figured the extra income would be good for me if I want to fix up the lake house, and like you said, it will look good on a résumé.”
Not a total lie.
“I don’t know why you bought that place,” my father grumbles. “You have a perfectly good roof over your head here. What are your mother and I gonna do with all this space by ourselves, huh?”
I grin. Dad didn’t support my purchase of the lake house. Not because he thought it was a bad investment, but because he wants me to move out about as much as he wants a hole in the head.
“Oh, I don’t know,” I say, unable to help my smile, “walk through the living room without stepping on a Lego for once? Enjoy being able to watch something other than cartoons during the day?”
“I like cartoons during the day,” he grumps. “Who’s going to give me my shoulder rubs?”
“Dad, Sophie has the grip of a gnat.”
“And how am I going to have an excuse to eat fruit snacks if she’s not here? You know your mother won’t buy any of that shit once she’s gone.”
I fight a smile as I step forward and press a quick kiss to the top of his head. “Dad, we’ll only be ten minutes away. We’ll still visit, have dinners on the weekend, and you can stop by anytime you want. And, hey, since I’m taking this internship, I’ll see you all the time.”
“During the season, anyway.” He purses his lips. “I know your reasons for wanting to move out, and I may not like it, but I respect it. Can’t say I’m not proud.”
I swallow over the thickness in my throat. His words are what every child, especially one who’s screwed up in the past, wants to hear from their parents. After I discovered I was pregnant, I thought I’d failed them. At the very least, I wrote myself off as being a huge disappointment, so knowing I can still make them proud, even after I’ve made mistakes, fills my heart with joy. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Only speaking the truth. I’ll tell Reid you accepted the spot. Drop by and fill out the paperwork tomorrow, then start Wednesday. That gives you a couple days to get Sophie registered at the CU day care.”
I nod as my phone pings, interrupting us, but when I check it, I see a text from a number I don’t recognize and frown.
I swipe it open, prepared to delete it when my stomach leaps into my throat.
Unknown:
What’s the minimum amount of time you have to wait before you can text a girl you’re interested in without looking desperate or uncool? Asking for a friend.
Teagan.
I almost forgot about giving him my number, too distracted by the conversation with my father.
I bite my lip, fighting the smile threatening to split my face in two. Part of me is shocked Teagan’s already reached out. This boy is a charmer, and I’m not sure what to make of it or his interest in me. It’s not like I met him in class when I was alone. He knows I have a child, yet he’s interested, anyway.
I don’t know whether to be thrilled or skeptical, which is probably why I feel a little bit of both.
“What’s got you looking so chipper?” Dad asks.
I glance up at him to find him staring and realize I’m smiling at my phone like a dope.
“Oh. Uh, nothing.” I drop my smile. “Just someone from school.” I hook a thumb toward the hall. “I better check on Soph.”
I stare down at my phone, unsure if I should respond and what to say if I did. It’s not like I have a ton of experience with men. I went from dating a little the first couple years in high school to falling in love—or what I thought was love—and getting pregnant. Whatever flirting skills I had are poorly developed at best and have long since dried up. Besides, now that I’m back home, the reality of my situation comes crashing in like a tsunami.
I can’t actually date him even if I want to.
Earlier, I was on a high. A cute, flirtatious boy was interested. But now, I’m stone-cold sober. I have a daughter. I’m far too busy to date, and even if I weren’t, I’m in a completely different phase of life than your average college student.
Most kids my age are only worried about their grades and which party they plan on attending over the weekend.
I’m worried about my mortgage, a leaking roof, and potty training.
Which is precisely why I shouldn’t add him to my contacts, yet I find myself entering his name, anyway.
I’m still smiling when I enter the living room to find Sophie asleep on the couch. The sight of her so innocent and peaceful tugs on my heart, even if her napping so late in the day means she’ll be up later tonight.
Deciding to take advantage of the rare time alone, I climb the stairs to retrieve the new romance novel I started the other night instead of catching up with laundry like I should.
I’m halfway up when the doorbell rings, and I almost turn back around to answer it before I hear my mother call out, “I’ll get it.”
I hold my breath, waiting to see if the sound woke Sophie, breathing a sigh of relief in the answering silence.
My feet hit the landing and I dart to my room to grab the worn library book, then head back for the stairs where I plan on sinking into the couch beside Sophie with a cup of cocoa, but I pause.
Below, my father’s burly figure fills the doorway and I stiffen, half expecting it to be Chance Lockhart at the door. Those two are always going over plays and talking shop during the season. But when my father shifts his weight and crosses his arms over his chest, barking out a gruff response, I realize it mustn’t be him.
Probably a solicitor or someone else from the team.
Thinking nothing of it, I continue down the stairs, turning to take the hall into the living room when I hear a voice I recognize and freeze.
A voice I heard only hours ago.
It can’t be . . .
Risking a glance over my shoulder, my heart races at the sight of Teagan, partially obscured by my father’s burly form.
For a moment I wonder if he’s stalking me.
He must have followed me here.
It’s the only possible explanation for how he ended up at my door.
The idea sends chills down my spine until I hear my father address him by name, and I frown.
He must know him. But how?
I take a couple steps back, hiding in the alcove beneath the stairwell so as not to be seen as I strain my ears to listen.
“Well, get on with it, then. What brings you here on my day off?” My father’s tone is gruff, unimpressed while I strain to hear Teagan’s response.
“I know I can’t take it back now. What’s done is done. It was stupid, and I never should have participated, but I just wanted to come again and apologize. Man-to-man, to your face.”
Alarm bells go off in my head.
My mind races.
My father says nothing for a moment while my head spins. What on earth could Teagan possibly be apologizing for?
“So, you admit you weren’t alone, huh?”
“No, sir. I wasn’t. It was freshman hazing, but I’m asking you kindly to please not ask me the names of the others with me, because I won’t tell you. I’m a team player, not a snitch.”
A team player?
My body sags, the wall taking on the full brunt of my weight.
He must play football. He’s one of my father’s players.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
I wait until my father finishes, my brain buzzing with my thoughts as he closes the door, and I step out into the hallway. “Who was that?” I ask, trying to keep my tone as casual as possible.
Dad rolls his eyes. “Just one of my boys. Those guys were up to their usual pranks the other night, and this one got caught.” He shakes his head while any hope that I might be wrong plummets.
I nod, schooling my expression into one of indifference as I wait until he brushes past me. I stare at the closed front door where Teagan just stood and fight the urge to peer out the little window to watch him leave, knowing I’m being ridiculous.
I never should’ve given him a second thought, but I did.
I turn and head for the living room while any notion I had of texting Teagan back goes up in smoke.
I don’t date. But even if I did, no amount of charm would be enough for me to date a football player. Especially not one of my father’s players.
The one and only time I broke that rule, I wound up pregnant with a broken heart.