22. Chapter 22
Chapter 22
LANE
Itake a seat on one of the cushioned benches of the mall’s indoor playground and remove Sophie’s shoes, then tell her to be careful as she runs off to climb a giant, rubbery whale.
“Now, let’s talk about why we just spent an hour wondering around the mall eating a thousand calories in pretzels”?Gabby waves her cinnamon sugar pretzel in the air?“when I know darn well your mother made a massive brunch this morning.”
She eyes me, one dark brow arching toward her hairline as I deflate.
Sometimes I forget how well Gabby knows me. My mother’s brunches are a well-known tradition and honestly amazing. She could easily open a brunch-only restaurant and make a killing. But the moment football season starts, Chance seems to be at every single one of them, and since I make it a habit of avoiding him at all costs, that means I usually make myself scarce.
Like today.
If my parents have caught on, they’ve never said anything. Or maybe the conversation in-season is so hyper-focused on football, they barely notice my absence.
“You know why.” I dish out a good dose of side-eye before glancing back to where Sophie climbs up the whale’s spongy tongue which doubles as a slide.
“You’d think he’d quit going after . . .” She discreetly nods her head toward Sophie.
“Not in-season.” I shake my head on a sigh. “He no longer comes around in the spring and summer, but in the fall, he just avoids us as much as possible while he’s there.”
Gabby grunts. “He’s like a fucking sea urchin. All innocent looking at first sight, until you realize what a prick he is, and if you don’t stay away, he’ll fuck you up.” I snort while Gabby stares off into the distance. “Gosh, I bet it’ll be a relief once he’s gone, won’t it?”
“You have no idea.” I sigh.
“Do you think the rumors are true? That he might get drafted early?”
“I don’t know.” God, I hope.
A little boy gives Sophie a light shove, and my stomach lurches. I start to rise to my feet, but pause when she tells him to stop, then moves to the other side of the playground. Crisis averted.
“Little rat. Gosh, I freaking hate kids,” Gabby mutters. I chuckle at her candor because as much as Gabby loves Sophie, she’s not a fan of children. “Except Soph, of course,” she rushes to add. “She’s an effing angel. You’re so lucky to have her.”
My lips curve, her words bringing me back to my conversation with Teagan.
There’s no luck about it, Lane. You made her that way. You’re the reason she’s so awesome. You know that, don’t you?
“So, how’s it going with Teagan,” she asks, as if she can read my thoughts.
When I don’t immediately respond, she bumps my shoulder with hers. “Any new developments there? Did you heed my advice and stop avoiding him like a pus—”
“Gabby!” I hiss, then bark out a laugh. “Children, remember?” I motion around us.
I bite my lip, grinning wide while my thoughts drift to Teagan and everything that happened the other night at the lake house.
Gabby gasps. “Oh my gosh, something happened, didn’t it?”
“Shhhhh.” I glance around us as if someone I know might hear. “Nothing . . . happened,” I say, even though I’m not entirely sure that’s true. I mean, sure, we didn’t actually do anything, but I wouldn’t call skinny dipping and practically eye fucking each other nothing.
My face burns with the memory, and Gabby must notice because she bounces in her seat and says, “Spill, right now.”
I shake my head, wondering how I can accurately sum up my feelings for Teagan and everything that happened the other night into words. “I don’t know, Gabs. It’s like he’s . . . perfect.” I glance at her, my throat aching from the truth in my words. “He’s seriously everything. I had basically come to terms with the fact that I’d be single until Sophie was in high school because who would want to be hemmed down so young with a child? But he’s messing with my head, making me rethink everything.”
“Like what? That someone might actually want you?” Gabby stares at my profile while I gnaw on my lip.
“For one thing, yeah.”
She scoffs. “Lane, I’ve told you that about a thousand times. You’re fucking amazing.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “Okay, but it’s an entirely different thing having your friends and family tell you that versus an insanely sexy man.” Damn, is he sexy. “For another, he’s making me think that maybe not all athletes are created equal. That maybe you can dedicate most of yourself to your passion but still have time for other things.”
“Of course you can.” Gabby reaches out and tucks a wavy lock of hair behind my ear. “Just like you can devote yourself to Sophie, but it doesn’t mean you can’t make room for something or someone else. Chance was just a dick, Lane.”
I let her swear go with a grimace and swallow through the ache in my throat.
She’s right; I know she’s right, but . . .
“Did he kiss you?” Gabby asks when it’s clear I’ve clammed up.
I exhale. “No.” I shake my head, reliving those tense moments at the lake in my mind. “But I wanted him to. I really wanted him to. He came up to the lake house, and Gabs . . .” I turn to her. “He brought me and Soph dinner. It was just boxed mac and cheese he rushed to make before he came, but it was so freaking sweet, I swear. And then he played with Sophie for next to an hour, stringing bracelets together with her while I spoke with the contractor. He unloaded all our stuff from the car and set up her bed while I helped her change and brushed her teeth. All without asking. And he calls Soph ‘Sweet Sophie,’ and I swear it hooks my heart every single time.”
Gabby’s smile spreads, a mischievous glint to her eye.
“What?”
“Nothing.” She shakes her head. “It’s just that boy has it bad, Lane. He is so gone over you. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anything like it, to be honest. I wish I could’ve been there the day he met you in the park because I’m betting he let some serious sparks fly. He’s making a damn good case for love at first sight.”
I scoff. Love at first sight. Sounds like a fairy tale. “You can’t be serious.”
“Even you have to admit, the boy sounds smitten.”
A flutter of nerves awakens inside my chest like a flock of trapped birds.
“And then?” she asks, interrupting my thoughts. “That can’t be it.”
My cheeks flush, knowing what Gabby will think of the rest. “Then I had some wine.” Gabby’s eyes round. “I know,” I say quickly in my defense. “I don’t often drink, but I was at the lake and excited about the house and the prospect of moving in soon, and I wanted to celebrate.”
“With Teagan.” She wiggles her brows.
“I didn’t even know he was coming until last minute.” I scowl as Gabby takes a monstrous bite of her pretzel; eyes locked on me like she’s watching her favorite scene in a movie unfold.
I stifle the rise of nerves and check Sophie’s position before I continue. “Once Sophie was in bed, I opened the wine, and we took it out to the dock where we looked at the stars.” I ignore the look she shoots me. “We talked for a bit, and then,” I swallow and blurt out: “wewentskinnydipping.”
Gabby chokes on a bite of pretzel, wheezing as she pounds her chest.
My eyes widen. For a moment, I imagine having to perform the Heimlich right here in front of all these children and the giant rubber whale when she finally coughs it up.
Wheezing, she presses a palm to her chest. “I’m sorry, did you just say that you, Lane Turner, went skinny dipping with that hunk of a man?”
I purse my lips, glancing away from her to watch Sophie climb a rubber crab with massive claws. “Yes.”
“Holy shit.” She blinks. “Was his body as incredible as I imagine it to be?”
I flush, struck with an image of a nude Teagan standing on the dock, and my body heats so entirely, I’m forced to close my eyes, to try to breathe through the fire in my veins.
Beside me, Gabby barks out a laugh. “That good, huh?”
I groan and turn to her. “He was so perfect, it’s unfair.”
“And what did he think of you, my dear?”
If the tent in his pants was any indication, he liked what he saw.
She watches me intently, searching for one of my tells, and whatever she sees must confirm what I’m thinking because her high-pitch cackle startles every person on the playground.
Several heads turn. Eyes probing.
“Could you be quiet?” I hiss. “We’re in the presence of children,” I admonish, mostly because the thoughts running through my head are bordering on indecent.
“Sorry. Sorry.” She waves a hand out in front of her as if trying to gain her composure, though she doesn’t sound sorry. “But this is the most excitement you’ve seen since sixteen, and you expect me not to be completely thrilled for you?” she whispers. “Not happening.”
My mouth flattens.
“So,” she continues, “you talk, have a little wine, strip down and get in the water, and then what?”
“And then”?I eye her in my periphery, knowing she’ll have a field day with this next part?“he pulled me to him, and I sort of—” I clear my throat.
“You sort of . . .”
“Wrapped my legs around his waist while he held me snug against him, and we came damn close to kissing and who knows what else.” I drop my face in my hands.
Gabby groans. “What the hell stopped you? Why didn’t you go for the who knows what else?”
“I could tell he was hesitant.” I raise my head and shrug.
Gabby frowns.
“Not because he didn’t want me. That much was apparent.”
“Then why?”
I laugh, but it’s nothing short of bitter. “Let’s see, probably because of my father and the warning he gave everyone. Teagan has a lot at stake by getting involved with me, so I think he’s skirting the line intentionally. Also, maybe he was remembering the fact that I’d previously turned him down. Maybe he’s not sure what to think.” I run my hands through the length of my hair and exhale. “I don’t know, but I think he would’ve caved if it weren’t for Sophie waking up and crying for me because afterward, that was that. I had to get out of the water to get her, and he left. Perks of being Mom.”
I offer her a droll smile. “At least he got a taste of what a relationship with a single mom would be like. Complete privacy is hard to come by. Interruptions and inconvenience are par for the course.”
Gabby’s gaze shifts to the playground where Sophie giggles with another girl. “Sophie,” she tsks. “You little cock-block you.”
“Gabs!” I laugh and elbow her in the ribs.
“What?” Gabby asks, eyes wide. “She should’ve taken one for the team, am I right? Suck it up, buttercup. Momma needs to get some.”
I cover my face to hide the raging blush ripping through my cheeks. “Oh my gosh. Stop.”
After a good laugh and most of the blood returns to my chest, Gabby asks, “So, all joking aside, how do you really feel about him?”
The million-dollar question, one I’ve both avoided and asked myself a thousand times since that day in the park with no clear answer.
My emotions where Teagan is concerned are like a ball of tangled yarn. The more I tug and pull at the strings to try and unravel my feelings, the more they tangle. Pretty soon, the only solution will be to cut them loose. At least that way, I’ll know where I begin, and he ends.
“I don’t know. It feels . . . complicated.”
Gabby huffs. “What isn’t?”
Maybe she’s right. Maybe everything in life is complicated, and maybe I’m just making things more difficult than they need to be by focusing on the hardness of it all. The problem is, it’s not just me I have to consider. If it were, maybe my answer would be clearer. Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to define this ballooning in my chest when I think of Teagan.
We both fall silent, staring at Sophie as she laughs and plays.
“When will you see him again?” she eventually asks.
“I don’t know.” A twinge of worry gnaws on my gut. “I’m worried about Sophie. She’s getting really attached, and if I could convince myself this thing with Teagan and I was purely platonic, and we could remain friends with no complications, maybe I wouldn’t worry so much, but . . .”
A vise wraps around my chest, compressing the worry until it needles beneath my ribs. “I don’t want her to get hurt, Gabs.” I swallow. “I don’t ever want her to know what it feels like to think someone chose you, only for them to walk away.”
“Hey, Dad.” I climb the porch steps with Sophie racing ahead of me.
She flings herself into my father’s arms, going in for the kill before releasing him and running into the house in search of my mother.
“Have a seat.” Dad pats the empty space on the porch swing beside him, and I oblige, sinking down onto the thick cushion.
“How was brunch?” I ask, my guilt getting the better of me.
“Good. We missed you, you know.” I hum under my breath. “Chance was asking where you were.”
My head jerks to him and I frown. “Really?”
Why the hell did Chance care where I was? It’s not like my avoiding him is anything new.
My father nods. “I told him you’d be there next weekend.”
The way he says it leaves no room for argument. Unless I want to put up a fight, I’ll attend next Sunday’s brunch. I may be a grown-ass adult now with my own child, but I am still living under their roof, which means, to an extent, playing by their rules. Or at least, that’s how I feel. It’s one reason, among many, why I can’t wait to move into the lake house next month.
“You should’ve seen him yesterday, Lane. Damn, you’d have been proud. He was fire. There’s no other way to put it. He made some last-minute decisions on the field because his gut was telling him something different from what I suggested. I was skeptical, but it paid off. We won.”
A massive knot lodges in my throat.
“That’s great, Dad,” I say, but it falls flat.
As long as his success is tied to Chance’s, I’ll always be less than enthusiastic. I look forward to the days when Chance is gone and playing for the NFL, so I can finally talk to my father without my stomach tying in knots.
I listen while he explains in great detail all the things Chance did well. Twenty minutes pass with him singing Lockhart’s praises like he’s invincible. Twenty minutes of Chance this, Chance that, until I’m about to burst from frustration.
Anger crawls under my skin as the urge to scream rises inside of me.
If I hear his name one more time, I might puke. Barf the cinnamon sugar pretzel I consumed with Gabby right onto the floor.
My hands fist at my side in an effort to restrain myself while I grit my teeth.
“I’ll tell ya what,” my father continues, “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s top ten in the draft. That boy’s gonna go far. He’s turning into quite the young man.”
“Yep,” I somehow manage, but all I want to do is scream. I want to turn and tell him the boy he loves so much is the same one who got me pregnant. The same man who left.
I want to explain how the man he thinks is so fucking amazing is also the one person in this world my father despises the most; he just doesn’t know they’re one and the same.
But I do. I know, and it eats me up inside.
I’m so close to being free of Chance Lockhart.
One more season after this one and he’ll be gone.
If I’m lucky, they’ll draft him early.
There’s no doubt Chance will go to the NFL; it’s only a matter of when.
I listen for another minute, until I can’t possibly take anymore and then I blurt out, “How about Teagan Nichols?”
My father’s gaze flickers to mine, a question in his eyes I refuse to answer before he asks it. “How do you know Nichols?”
I shrug. “We have a class together,” I lie. “We talk sometimes. I guess you could say we’re friends.” I don’t hesitate with the label, knowing any kind of pause or inflection in my voice would be a red flag.
My father doesn’t question me; I’ve never given him a reason to, or at least not one he knows about. “He did okay yesterday. Didn’t see the ball much,” he tells me.
I stare down at my hands, playing with a piece of loose thread on the hem of my T-shirt, unable to stop myself as I ask, “Do you think he has a chance of going pro?”
I know what Teagan said Friday night, but I can’t help but wonder if he was being modest. Or maybe he was saying what I wanted to hear.
“Nichols is good, damn good.” My father’s mouth turns down. Most would think it’s a frown, but I recognize it as his thinking face, and so I wait. “I’ve only just started coaching him, but Teagan is a dark horse. Not a lot of buzz around him. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. If you ask me, the kid has everything it takes to rise to the top. He’s quick. Smart. Thinks on his feet. Has the hands of some of the best tight ends in college football. I think if he wants it, he can earn his shot. I guess time will tell how badly he does.”
My father’s words sober me.
It reminds me of what Teagan said about drive.
It also reminds me of why I need to be careful.
A dull ache blooms inside my chest at the warning.
Teagan is only a freshman. He has four seasons to prove himself on the field and determine what kind of player he’s going to be. Four years to dictate his future and potentially earn himself a spot in the draft.
His life is in a state of flux; he has his whole life ahead of him, and like most people our age, he has no idea where the path might take him. A lot can happen between now and then. I, on the other hand, already know where I’ll be. My life will look the same today as it will five years from now.
The thought sobers me.
No matter how good he is with Sophie or how much he makes my heart leap inside my chest, he’s a wild card. He has zero responsibility to anyone other than himself, which means he can afford to be selfish.
He’s an athlete first and foremost, which means he and I would never work.
I need to remember that.
I find Sophie in the kitchen with my mother, dropping big balls of cookie dough onto a lined cookie sheet. “Having fun?” I ask, smiling, despite the heavy weight taking up residence in my chest following the conversation with my father.
“Yeah! We added extra chocolate chips!” Sophie says, dropping another ball of dough to the sheet.
My mother glances up at me, her eagle eyes taking in my expression. “Uh oh. Your father talked your ear off about the game, didn’t he?”
“I may or may not have sat through a thirty-minute play-by-play of Chance’s performance in the game.”
Mom winces. “Well, at least you missed the mini strategy session at brunch.” She rolls her eyes, and I laugh.
I don’t tell her I’ll have the joy of hearing it next weekend. If I have any say in it, I’ll find a way out of brunch with Chance.
Stepping forward, I take a little piece of raw dough and pop it in my mouth. “You’ll get sick!” Mom swats at me, but I dodge her easily.
“I’ve never heard of one person getting sick from raw cookie dough.”
“You say that now . . .” The corners of her mouth curl in amusement. “Gosh, you’ve done that since you were a kid.”
“And we’ve had this argument ever since.” I laugh.
“Old habits die hard.” Mom smirks and pats Sophie’s head. “My sweet girl here is as patient as the day is long. It’s remarkable, really.”
Sweet Sophie.
A private smile tugs at the corners of my mouth at the thought of Teagan’s nickname for her, then I groan and run my hands through my hair.
Is everything always going to remind me of him? Am I destined forever to think of him every single time he’s not around?
“Everything okay?” Mom asks, arching a brow as she turns to put the pan of cookies into the preheated oven.
“Yeah, yeah. Fine. Sorry. Just thinking about something.”
“Anything I can help with?”
I wish.
I remember the days when my problems were so small my parents could solve them all. It’s been a long time since then.
“Nope. It’s fine.” I sigh.
Nothing I can’t handle, anyway.
My phone dings and I glance down at it, noting a new text from Teagan. “Um, I’ll be right back,” I mumble, grateful both Mom and Sophie are preoccupied with loading another cookie sheet.
I wander from the kitchen and up the stairs toward my bedroom as I click open the text and read.
Teagan: Do you have plans for the day? I was hoping to see you.
I bite my lip, debating.
Should I answer or ignore him?
I crack my neck, a habit I’ve had for years, then begin to type.
Me: I was just out with Gabby and Soph. We’ll probably stay in the rest of the day. Sorry.
Not even a minute passes after I hit send that my phone starts to ring.
I suck in a breath.
He’s calling me.
Shit.
Do I answer?
Of course I have to answer.
He obviously knows I’m around because I just texted him back.
Shit, shit, shit.
“Hello?”
“Why stay in when you can go out with me instead?” Teagan asks the second I answer.
My stomach tightens at the same time the rush I feel whenever I’m with him floods through my veins, begging me to give in and say yes.
My head spins from the whiplash of emotions as I try to remember the reasons I can’t. “I don’t know,” I hedge. “Soph and I should probably stay here.”
“What? No. You most definitely should not stay there.”
“Teagan . . .” I close my eyes, my head warring with my heart. I want to see him, but I know I can’t. Friends or not, it’ll only lead to disappointment.
“Lane . . .” He mocks.
“It’s just that you’ve spent a lot of time with Sophie lately. I think you should probably keep a little distance, you know?”
“No, I don’t know. Explain.”
I sigh and shove a hand through my hair. Why can’t he just make this easy? Take my answer as a no and move on?
“I don’t want her to get hurt, Teagan. She’s already growing attached, evidenced by the bracelet she begged me to bring you yesterday, and I think a little of that is okay. Our weekly pizza night at Slice is fine, but I’ve been thinking, and it’s probably best if we limit our interaction to just that, once a week.”
As it is, that’ll be too much. I know, because I already find myself waiting to see him each day on my shift and counting down the hours until the next one.
Sophie’s no different.
The more time she spends with him, the more she talks about him. Just yesterday, after we delivered the bracelet, she asked when we’d see him next, and the idea of her becoming attached and losing him scares me more than anything.
“That’s bullshit, Lane. I would never do anything to hurt her, and I want to see her.”
“I know that, but when things go south with us, I’ll have to explain—”
“If.”
“What?” I blink and shake my head to clear it.
“If things go south. You said when. And for the record, that’s one of the reasons we’re only friends, right? How could things possibly end poorly among friends?”
I swallow over the lump in my throat. The word “friends” suddenly seems wholly inadequate to describe the flowy feeling I get when I think of him, like someone turned on a spotlight inside my chest, lighting me up and chasing the darkness.
When I say nothing, he adds, “You should know I don’t just abandon my friends, Lane. Best damn friend ever, remember?”
I huff out a laugh. Of course I remember, and so far, he’s living up to the title. But that’s part of the problem, isn’t it? The more amazing he proves himself to be, the worse it’ll hurt once he’s gone.
“Do you want references?” he asks.
I bark out a laugh. “What?”
“References. I can give you the numbers of all my friends and you can ask them about what kind of friend I am, how loyal, trustworthy, whatever.”
I scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t need references, Teagan. I need . . .” I growl in frustration, “I don’t know what I need.”
But I do know; I just don’t want to say it.
I need space but I want him, and I feel my resolve slipping by the second under his persuasion.
“So it’s settled, then.”
“What’s settled?” I lift my free hand and pinch the bridge of my nose.
“We’re friends, which also means we’re hanging out today.”
“Teagan, I don’t think—”
“Be at your house in thirty. Be ready and dress casual.”
“No. Wait—” I start, but the line goes dead before I can finish.
I hold my phone out and stare at the blank screen, stunned as I rewind our conversation in my head, wondering how we got here. From the moment I found out I was having a baby, I had to grow a backbone. I’m no longer easily persuaded or influenced. I don’t give into things on a whim. Instead, I’m headstrong and steadfast in my decisions.
But Teagan Nichols is an entirely different beast.
I’ve only known him for weeks and yet I can see he’s a man who goes after what he wants and doesn’t quit until he gets it.
And for reasons I can’t explain, he seems to want me.