31. Chapter 31
Chapter 31
LANE
Isit down at the formal dining room table with Sophie. Years ago, when I was a kid, Mom decided we didn’t use this room enough, and her Sunday brunches were born.
It’s ten o’clock. I already spoke with Teagan, and though I wish he were here, I understand why he thinks it’s a bad idea after what happened at practice this week. Better to play it safe and not poke the bear. Besides, I’d rather have him alone, which is precisely why I’d asked my mother to watch Sophie for me. The second I’ve choked down my food, I plan on heading to the lake house where Teagan is meeting me.
Only two more hours until I get to see him. Two hours for the day alone, a first for us.
My stomach twists with nerves at the thought, and I bite my lip.
All I have to do is get through brunch, which shouldn’t be much of a hardship since Chance isn’t here. Looks like he heeded my warning and smartly stayed away.
Mom places the last of the platters on the table heaped with trays of bacon, fruit, crepes with fresh strawberries and whipped cream, quiche, and even fried chicken.
My stomach rumbles. I haven’t attended one of her brunches since summer break, thanks to Chance, and it’s easy to forget how amazing they are.
Dad ambles into the dining room, takes one look at the place settings, and says, “I don’t think Chance is going to make it today, hon.”
“Oh?” Mom steps back, her gaze lifting to my father who’s sinking into a chair at the head of the table. “Well, we’ll have room for one more just in case.”
The second the words leave her mouth, the doorbell rings.
Dad frowns and starts to rise, but Mom is already on her feet and heading into the hallway while I strain my neck to see.
Maybe Teagan decided to come, after all?
I have half a mind to follow my mother to the door to see for myself. It would be just like him to hang up with me after promising to see me at noon, then show up here to surprise me.
The thought makes me smile, but the second Mom bustles into the room with Chance beside her, it vanishes.
What the hell is he doing here?
The synapses in my brain fire, trying to make sense of it because the Chance I know is scared to death of my secret.
My jaw tightens as I watch my father rise and clap him on the back while pulling him into his chest in one of those bro hugs men do, then sits back down. “Have a seat, son,” he says, waving to the empty chair beside him, the one across from mine.
Suddenly, I’m not so hungry, which really pisses me off because . . . crepes.
My gaze tracks Chance’s every move as he slides into his chair. I don’t even bother to hide my disgust for him as he sits and nods in Sophie’s direction. “Hey, Sophie,” he says, and I have the insatiable urge to both pluck his eyes out for looking at her. Instead, I pull her under my arm to protect her.
On the rare occasion he’s at our house and not huddled in my father’s office watching game tape or discussing new plays or anything football related, he barely acknowledges her existence. It’s been like that since the day she was born, and I think I like it better that way.
“I’m so glad you could make it, honey. Ed just got done telling us he didn’t think you would. And look, Lane is actually here for a change. It’s the first time in forever we’ve all been together for brunch. Gosh”?she glances over at me?“when was the last time?”
“It’s been about four years,” I say, deadpan.
Chance stiffens before his eyes flicker between my mother and me. “Uh, yeah.” He clears his throat. “I didn’t think I was going to be able to come, but then at the last minute, everything worked out.” His gaze settles on mine, his voice lowering. “Now that I know Lane’s here, I’m really glad it did.”
Rage boils my blood as I stare him down. Clearly, he’s calling my bluff. He doesn’t think I’ll tell my parents the truth. And much to my dismay, he’s right.
Guess he knows me better than I thought.
I don’t know if anything would push me to tell my father the truth when I know how completely devastated he would be. Especially not when I’m so close to having Chance out of my life for good.
All I have to do is get through the rest of the year. With any luck, he’ll be drafted early and gone. I won’t have to see him all the time. I won’t have to hear about him every day or see the pride in my father’s eyes when he mentions him by name.
No more pretending like seeing him doesn’t fill me with a toxic combination of resentment and guilt at hiding the truth.
I tear my eyes from his, no longer wanting to look at him. He doesn’t deserve my attention, but luckily, I don’t have to do much except eat because Dad turns the conversation to football as everyone begins to fill their plates.
I take care of Sophie first, cutting a crepe into bite-sized pieces to make it easier for her to eat before I start on my own plate, all while ignoring the disgusting amount of praise my father heaps on Chance for his performance at the last game. Part of it stems from his own pride; I know this. My father shaped Chance into the football player he is today, and now he’s going places. I don’t blame him for being proud of that, but it still sucks to sit here and listen to it.
My mother, God bless her, does what she always does best and listens raptly, smiling and commenting in all the right places.
I used to be able to do that.
I used to be able to go along with it.
But I can’t anymore.
I’m done, not to mention irritated with sheer arrogance at the man across from me as he tries to catch my eye and smile.
“Teagan had a great game, too,” I say, glancing up from my plate to offer my father a pointed stare. Across from me, Chance’s glare bores into my skull. “He had some incredible blocks, not to mention the touchdown he got. Oh, and if he hadn’t recovered that fumble by the Lions, we’d have been seriously screwed considering we only won by three points.”
My father’s forehead creases, and he hesitates before saying, “That, he did. I have to admit, I didn’t give him much play time after, uh . . .” He clears his throat. “I’ve had some doubts about him, especially after an incident at practice the other night, but he proved to me yesterday afternoon how much he wants this. His performance wasn’t lost on me.”
I nod, shifting to lock eyes with Chance. “I’ll be sure to tell him when I see him next,” I drawl as a slow smile curves my lips.
Chance’s cheeks flush, and if the firm set of his mouth is any indication, I succeeded in pissing him off.
Good. Now we’re even.
“We’ve had better tight ends,” he says, squaring his shoulders.
I roll my eyes. I so badly want to say we’ve had better quarterbacks, too, but it wouldn’t be true, and I’d just sound like a jerk.
Besides, Chance is doing a good job at showing his hand all on his own.
“Is that so?” I prop my chin on my fist and stare. I have no idea what kind of game he’s playing, but it’s obvious he’s trying something; I just haven’t figured out what.
Chance nods. “Yeah. The kid’s a loose cannon if you ask me.”
Kid?
My brows rise. He acts so fucking superior, it makes me sick. Meanwhile, he’s half the man Teagan will ever be. I only wish I could tell him so, right here, right now, in front of my parents without sounding like I’m the one in the wrong.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see my father take a bite of his food, his forehead creased in concentration. “Teagan has a lot of spirit and a damned lot of potential. He’s stumbled a bit off the field, but it’s no reason to discount him, at least not yet. If he keeps his head in the game, I think he’ll go far.”
The pleasure at the irritation sliding through Chance’s features hits me like a branding iron, hot and sharp.
I grin, knowing this wasn’t what Chance wanted to hear. But that’s the thing about my dad. He may be tough, and he may love Chance like a son, but he’s fair and more than diplomatic. In many ways, he views all of his players as his children, prides himself on shaping each and every one into not only damn good players, but also decent men.
I stab a strawberry and pop it in my mouth, feeling more than a little smug. “Did you know he has a twin sister?”
“Really?” Mom smiles over at me.
I nod. “Her name is Brynn and she goes to Ann Arbor University. She also happens to be dating one of their star receivers, Jace Taggart?”
“Taggart?” My father perks up, eyes on me.
“Yup.”
My father grunts. “He’s a hell of a player. Didn’t he play for a school in Ohio before college?”
“Yeah. Riverside. He and Teagan played on the same team. They’re best friends actually.”
“How lovely,” Mom says. “So, Teagan’s best friend is dating his sister?”
“Yeah.” A quick glance at Chance’s pinched expression and red face encourages me to go on. “He’s still good friends with a couple of guys from his old team, actually. I think it’s kind of cool,” I say, knowing Chance no longer talks to anyone from his high school team. The minute he got a scholarship to CU, he dropped them all like a hot potato. Kind of like when I got pregnant. “Another one plays college ball, but I forget his name. He plays for Ohio State.”
“No shit.” My father stares off into the distance. “I’ll have to check out their roster, but if he’s a freshman, I know Atlas Scott has been making a ton of headlines. They’re predicting he’ll be a first-round pick.”
“The name sounds familiar,” I say, at least I think it does. But regardless, I say it because the steam coming from Chance’s ears has me giddy.
Aw, poor Chance Lockhart isn’t the center of attention. Boo-hoo.
The fact that Chance seems to loathe Teagan so much is practically an endorsement of his character.
“What’s Teagan’s major?” Mom asks, and I give her a mental high five for prolonging the conversation.
“Education. He wants to be a high school teacher and hopes to coach football.”
Chance snorts and my father spears him a look. After all, he was a teacher until he got the gig at CU.
I smile at Chance’s blunder, wishing I had a hidden camera to capture this on film; I’d study it like one of my father’s game tapes.
“That’s wonderful.” My mother’s gaze flickers to Chance and her posture stiffens before she changes the subject.
An hour later, brunch is over and the dishes have been cleared from the table. I pass by the living room where my mother sits with Sophie in her lap, cuddling with a movie on. I round the sofa and press a kiss to the top of Sophie’s head, then tell my mother I’ll be back tonight but not to wait up since it’ll likely be late.
“You’re sure you’re okay with her?” I ask one last time. When she shoots me a glare, I hold my hands up and laugh. “Got it.”
I back away and head for the hallway when someone steps out of the shadows.
I practically jump out of my skin, and my hand flies to my chest where my heart bangs furiously against my ribs.
“What are you doing here?” I hiss as I open the closet door beside him and pull out a jacket. “Aren’t you supposed to be going over game tape with my father in his office?”
Chance shoves his hands in his pockets, staring at me a beat before he says, “He’s waiting on me.”
I slide on my coat, not in the mood for whatever this is, and try to push past him, but he steps in front me, blocking my path.
My eyes turn to laser beams, directed right at his face. If only I could eviscerate him with a glare. “You don’t listen well, do you? I told you not to come. I told you that if you showed today and didn’t leave me alone—”
“You were bluffing.” Chance shrugs, his cocky expression bordering on smug. “You and I both know that if you were going to tell your parents, you would’ve done so years ago.”
I hate that he’s right, absolutely loathe him for it.
“I have to go.” I dart to my right, but Chance follows. I try the left, but his arm stretches out, catching me.
I loosen a breath from deep in my lungs, frustration building inside of me like a geyser ready to erupt.
“What do you want, Chance?” I snap. “Is it just your goal in life to piss me off? Make things harder for me? Do you hate me that fucking much?”
Chance flinches, which only pisses me off more. As if my words could possibly hurt him. “Does your father know you’re fucking Nichols?”
I suck a breath between my teeth. “You’re an asshole.”
“Does he?”
My stomach sinks at the implication, though I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. First, he caught us together at Slice, then I showed up to the team bus to hand deliver a good luck charm. And then, there was Halloween. Even I can admit we look like a couple from the outside looking in, and that’s without our afternoons working together in the basement of Wyndham Hall on Teagan’s lunch break.
I force down the seed of fear sprouting in my chest and stare him in the eyes. “Not that it’s any of your damn business, but I’m not sleeping with Teagan.”
His eyes brighten like the fact I’ve kept my legs closed is a revelation. His gaze slides over my body, a hunger in his eyes I recognize, and I want to punch him in the face, serve him a right hook to the jaw.
I hate that he knows what I look like under my clothes. And I absolutely hate that he’s the only one who does.
“So, you’re seeing him, but not sleeping with him?”
“I don’t see why you care. My love life is none of your business,” I snap.
His eyes narrow and my chest pinches. “You see, I think it is.”
I scoff. He’s even more of a dick than I thought he was.
“You and I have a history,” he says, taking a step closer.
“With a piss-poor ending.”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong. It’s not the end, Turner.”
I laugh, the sound incredulous even to my own ears.
My frustration mounts inside of me, a jockey ready to ride. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I told you when we were kids, after I found out you were . . .” he waves his hand toward me, and I want to laugh because he still can’t utter the word pregnant. “I told you then I wasn’t ready.”
I shrug. What the hell is he getting at?
“So? I remember. Trust me, I was there. I remember every single second of that conversation.” It was etched in my mind like a weighty tome. I replayed that conversation over and over in my head for fucking days.
“Right. But you’re missing the point.” Chance reaches out, but I dodge him. “The point is, I will be ready one day. Once I get drafted and have a few years under my belt.” He rakes a hand through his hair, his tone serious. “Maybe once I’m older and I—”
“Please tell me you’re joking.” I choke over the words. “Please tell me that you’re not standing here telling me I’m your fucking backup plan.”
My body vibrates with anger.
“Lane . . .”
“No!” I point at his face, finger trembling. “You can stop right there, because I am no one’s backup plan. Do you honestly think we could just pick up where we left off? Be one big happy family after you abandoned us for years? And what about Sophie? Do you think she’ll just accept you, then? Years later, after you’ve been right here all this time? Chance, she doesn’t even know about you.” I shake my head and take a step back, away from him. “No. I deserve better.”
I’ve found it, too.
“And you think Teagan is the one to give you that?” Chance scoffs. “Who are you kidding? You’re a single mom, and you don’t even have a degree yet. Your whole life will be an uphill battle. But once I’m pro, I can make things easier.”
Rage swims in my veins, a shark with teeth, threatening to rip through flesh and bone to get to the heart of its prey. My vision turns red as I stare him down, shocked we’re even having this fucking conversation, and though I don’t want them to, his words pick at old wounds that have only begun to heal.
All the fears that I’m not good enough, all my insecurities, everything I’ve told myself these last four years rise to the surface, bobbing in the tumultuous sea of my thoughts.
“Maybe it will be an uphill battle,” I say, my voice eerily calm compared to how I feel inside. “But I’d rather climb a fucking mountain alone than free-fall with you.” I start to turn, then stop myself, glaring at him one last time. “And you’re wrong about one thing. Teagan cares about me. Not every guy sees baggage when they look at me and Sophie. Some see so much more.”
Because I am worth it.
I’m still furiously replaying my conversation with Chance in my head when I step back from the wall, now painted partly with bright ivory paint. The living room with its large windows overlooking the lake will be so much brighter with the lighter color, but it’s not until I hear the knock on the door that I smile.
Setting my roller back on the tray of paint, I hurry toward the living room and fling the front door open. Teagan’s wide smile and dimples greet me, completely evaporating my sour mood as I lunge toward him and wrap my arms around his neck.
With a laugh, he draws me into his chest, squeezing me tight as he lifts me off my feet before setting me back down again. “Happy to see me?”
“You have no idea.”
He places me back on my feet and glances around the room.
“I just got started,” I say, when his eyes focus on the fresh paint. “I needed something to occupy myself while I waited.”
Mostly to keep my mind from wandering to the confrontation with Chance.
Teagan stares at me as if trying to gauge my statement but simply nods, then stretches his arms out, and it’s then I notice how good he looks in his worn jeans and an old faded Riverside Rebels T-shirt. “Well, I came to help, so put me to work.”
“I guess you can jump right in. I’ve got an extra roller and paintbrush,” I say, suddenly wishing we were doing more than painting.
Teagan nods. “Where’s Soph?”
“Uh, I forgot to tell you. I asked my mother to watch her so we could get more painting done.” I shrug. “I figured it would be easier.”
I bite my lip, cursing the flush of heat in my cheeks.
Right. Because that’s why you asked. So you could get more painting done. Definitely not because you wanted to get him alone.
“Damn. I wanted to show her this cool video I saw the other day. It was all about T. rex with these cool digital recreations. Did you know that baby T. rexes were actually super cute. They were about the size of a skinny turkey and covered in down feathers—what?” he asks, stopping his monologue to run a hand over his face. “What’s that look for?”
Liquid heat blooms inside my chest, spreading like a massive hand, its fingers reaching toward my heart. “You were watching dinosaur videos?”
“I mean, they were more like documentaries.”
“That’s . . .” I shake my head, the words lodged in my throat.
Sweet. Thoughtful. Sexy. So fucking irresistible I don’t even know what to do with it.
If I ever doubted whether Teagan Nichols had my heart in a choke hold, this would be all the confirmation I need. I’m tired of letting fear in the driver’s seat, tired of running from something I know is real.
My chest tightens and I take a step closer, a cheeky grin spreading my lips. “Should I be jealous you’re disappointed she’s not here?”
His eyes heat as they flicker over me. Reaching out, he snags my hand in his and pulls me toward him.
I stumble, nearly crashing into his chest. “Surprised. Not disappointed. Because if she’s not here, that means I have you all to myself.”
My heart beats against my ribs. My breathing hitches.
I wonder if he’ll try to kiss me before I shake the thought off.
Of course he won’t. Other than a few moments of weakness, I’ve made it perfectly clear all I want is friendship.
Teagan’s phone starts to ring, and I catch my breath. My lungs fill. “You gonna answer that?” I tease.
Teagan grimaces, then pulls his phone from his pocket and frowns down at the screen. “Just give me a minute,” he says as he accepts the call.
I hook a thumb toward the kitchen, needing a moment to think.
Or panic, same thing, because I can feel the fissures in the walls around my heart coming down, and I’m not sure what to do about it.
“I’ll just . . .” I trail off. “Make some coffee.”
Sounds good, he mouths, then I turn and rush from the room.
I busy myself in the kitchen with the little coffee pot I got for a steal at a garage sale last year and start to fill it with water.
Teagan’s voice trickles toward me, only separated by a half wall I fully plan on tearing out to expand the kitchen and create an open concept space.
“What do you mean we have a meeting today? What the hell for?” he grinds out.
My shoulders sag with disappointment as I add the coffee grounds. A flick of the switch and seconds later, it starts to splutter while I lean against the counter with nothing left to busy myself but my racing thoughts.
I hate that Chance has gotten to my head. Absolutely detest the fact that he opened wounds and insecurities Teagan had begun to heal.
But the conversation in the other room I’m trying hard to ignore isn’t helping.
It’s wrong to eavesdrop, but I justify it by telling myself it’ll be better this way. If Teagan has to leave early and I’m prepared for it, I’ll be less disappointed. More capable of handling the letdown, rather than catching me off guard.
“So, let me get this straight,” Teagan’s voice carries to me. “Lockhart calls a last-minute strategy session to watch game tape and go over new plays on our only day off and everyone is just going to fucking jump when he says jump?”
I stiffen while my stomach lurches somewhere in the vicinity of my throat.
Chance called a last-minute meeting?
He knew I came here to meet Teagan. I don’t know how I know that, but I do; I’m sure of it. Maybe this is his way of getting even after I poked the bear at brunch? Worse yet, maybe this is his sick way of trying to prove to me Teagan’s the same as him, that he’s no better and in the end, he’ll prioritize football.
I chew my thumbnail, thinking.
If Lockhart called a meeting, everyone would be expected to go. The game next weekend against Florida State is huge, and it wouldn’t bode well for any players not willing to put in the extra work.
“Fuck that!” Teagan seethes. “Yeah, well, I don’t care if he expects everyone to be there or not, I’m not going. Today’s our only day off and I plan on spending it with Lane.”
I step forward, risking a glance at him to see him standing, one hand on his hip as he listens to the person on the other line. “So fucking be it!” he says then hangs up.
I jump back, turning away from him and toward the coffee pot as I try and wrap my head around the conversation.
A moment later, I register the sound of his footsteps behind me, feel the heat of him at my back and close my eyes. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Sorry about that. I guess some of the team is getting together.”
I slowly spin around to face him, not wanting to assume. “Do you need to go?”
An almost imperceptible shake of his head. “No.”
I swallow over the heartbeat in my throat, almost afraid to believe my ears. Missing today’s strategy session would put even more of a target on his back as Chance has made it very clear to me he has a problem with him already.
But Teagan doesn’t seem to care; he seems completely at ease with his decision as he hovers above me, a smile curving the corners of his mouth.
He chose me.
Over football.
Over his obligation to the game.
My conversation with Chance threatens to surface once more, and I mentally give it the middle finger because Teagan chose me despite the fact that I have a child and no degree and am still figuring things out.
He chose me despite my father being his coach, messy life and all.
All of the things Chance said about no one wanting me completely evaporate. I told him I wanted someone who looked at me and Sophie like a gift and not baggage.
And I got him.
He’s standing right in front of me, and he’s . . . immaculate, so much more than I ever could have asked for.
Whatever remains of my walls crumbles around my feet, carried away by the tide that is Teagan.
I close the gap between us and my gaze falls to his mouth.
I should tell him Chance was at brunch today, mention my conversation with him. Even if I can’t share the paternity of Sophie’s father, I should at least give Teagan a heads up that Chance considers me his backup plan. In his warped mind, he thinks we have a future. After all, you can’t build a house on a rocky foundation, so he should know the truth if I’m going to take this next step. If I’m going to push friendship in the rearview mirror for good.
But the last thing I want to do is talk about Chance, let alone think about him. Not right now when we’re here alone, together. Not when he’s looking down at me with so much adoration in his eyes, I could drown in it.
“Ready to paint?” Teagan gently takes my hand, threading his fingers through mine, and his lips quirk.
“Not yet.” I shake my head, and mustering every ounce of courage I possess, I step closer and fist his shirt in my hands. “I have something else in mind,” I whisper.
His sapphire eyes flare, flecks of green and midnight sparking to life inside the blue as he licks his lips, eyes on my mouth. “What did you have in mind?”
I stretch, my mouth inches from his as I breathe him in. “This.”
Our lips meet, and it’s like sparks to kindling.
We ignite.