37. Chapter 37
Chapter 37
TEAGAN
Iinhale, preparing myself to face Lane.
Sleep did little to ease the anxiety gnawing on my chest. If anything, it intensified as if the passing of time somehow confirmed what I saw.
I’m standing outside Lane’s front door after waking in her bedroom, only to find a note asking me to sneak out and knock because Sophie thinks I’m coming for breakfast.
I know she just doesn’t want to confuse Sophie. Explaining why I spent the night with a child’s mother isn’t on my top ten of things I ever want to fucking do.
But with the photo fresh in my mind, I can’t help but feel like an afterthought, a mistake.
You’re being fucking ridiculous.
Lifting my fist, I knock on the door and wait as I hear footsteps from within. A minute later, a beaming Sophie swings open the door. “Mom’s making bacon!”
I grin and my heart does a slow roll as she reaches out to grab my hand and drags me inside to where Lane stands in front of the stove, a gorgeous smile lighting up her whole face.
“Hey.” I lift a chin and smother the anxiety ballooning in my chest when I realize I’m squeezing Sophie’s hand a little too tight.
Exhaling, I force myself to relax, telling myself, once again, that it’s just a picture. Probably nothing. I’d asked her from the start if she and Chance ever dated and she said no at a time when she had no reason to lie to me.
But a picture’s worth a thousand words . . .
My free hand clenches.
Lane turns and reaches out, drawing me into a hug which feels a little like she’s holding me together. “Hi, again,” she whispers in my ear.
My face falls to the top of her head and I inhale, breathing in the floral scent of her shampoo. I could get high off this scent, but instead of soothing my nerves, it only amplifies them.
She draws back and cups my face in her hands, and I don’t even have to force a smile; it comes all on its own. Lane draws the best out of me every fucking time.
“Glad you could join us for breakfast.”
“Uh, yeah, sure. No problem.”
“You’re lucky little Sophie, here, never sleeps in,” she says, pointing at her with a spatula. Then she leans into me again and whispers, “I wish I could kiss you right now.”
“Me too,” I choke out. So fucking much; she has no idea.
“Hungry?” She spins around and checks the bacon, then begins to pile it on a paper plate lined with napkins. “I know football works up an appetite,” she says with a wink.
“Starving.” I rub a hand over my stomach despite the heaviness in my chest. “I did a little extra conditioning last night.”
“Is that so?” Lane arches a brow, then turns and sets the plate of bacon on the table and grins, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Well, then you better eat up because I sense a lot of extra conditioning in your future.”
Her cheeks flush, and the smile she gives me is so genuine, her gaze so soft, I can almost convince myself my fears are nothing more than a result of an overactive imagination.
Almost.
Me:
I need one of you to tell me I’m fucking crazy.
Jace:
You’re fucking crazy. There. You’re welcome.
Graham:
I can get on board with this assessment.
Atlas:
I sense this has to do with Lane.
Chris:
Because in the end women make us all fucking crazy? I concur.
Me:
No. I need you to tell me I’m fucking crazy after I explain why I’m fucking crazy. Otherwise, it’s a moot point.
Jace:
*sigh*
Me:
I found a picture of Lane and Chance Lockhart, and it looked . . . I don’t know, intimate?
Chris:
Oh, shit. Was it a nude?
Me:
NO, IT WASN’T A FUCKING NUDE!
Chris:
Whoa. No need to yell. In my defense, you said it looked intimate.
Graham:
You seem stressed.
Atlas:
Highly.
Jace:
So, we’ve established they were clothed and you’re stressed. Were they kissing?
Me:
No.
Jace:
In bed but clothed?
Me:
NO! Look, it wasn’t anything so incriminating. They were just staring into each other’s eyes and smiling. But she looked fucking in love with him, okay?
There. I said it.
And it doesn’t feel any fucking better voicing my thoughts than it did by holding them in.
Jace:
Oh, shit.
Atlas:
Ouch.
Graham:
Staring longingly into each other’s eyes is worse than a kiss. So, you think they used to be an item or what?
Me:
I don’t know. I asked her about it shortly after we met, and she led me to believe they’ve never been romantic. In my head, I kept thinking she’d told me no, but I’ve given it a lot of fucking thought since yesterday afternoon and realized she sort of brushed off the question.
I inhale and pinch the bridge of my nose as I recall the photograph. I wasn’t imagining the chemistry between them or the affection in Lane’s eyes. No way. Just remembering her lovestruck expression makes my stomach pitch.
An unbidden thought rises to the surface of my mind.
I try to shove it down, but it’s like a fucking buoy, rising to the surface no matter how much I hold it back.
I grip my phone tighter and stare at the screen.
Just type it.
Fucking ask.
Then they can tell you you’re crazy, and you can move on.
My heart lurches in my throat as my fingers move over the keypad of my phone, and I punch out the question before I can stop myself and hit send.
Me:
What if he’s Sophie’s father?
Atlas:
Oh fuck.
Chris:
Damn. If that’s her baby daddy, you’re toast. He’s so much better than all of us.
Jace:
Hey, speak for yourself, fucker.
Graham:
Do you really think that’s a possibility?
Me:
I mean, he was around then.
Jace:
What did she tell you about the father?
Me:
Early on, she told me he was from out of state and attending one of her father’s summer football camps before her senior year. They had a summer romance, and she never saw him again.
I give it some more consideration and her explanation doesn’t sit well with me.
Me:
Now that I think about it, Lane isn’t the type to have a fling. She’s conservative. Thoughtful. A rule follower. It doesn’t jive that she would fall for someone that quickly and jump into bed with them. It would make more sense if she knew the father for a lot longer.
Fuck.
Chris:
Okay, but what reason would she have to lie?
I exhale, running a hand over the back of my neck while I think.
Why would she lie?
To protect Chance? That didn’t seem right.
Every time I’ve seen them interact, she’s made it clear there’s no love lost there, at least on her end. So, it doesn’t make sense she’d hide paternity for his sake.
There has to be another reason. One I’m not seeing.
Jace:
Are you sure you’re not just being paranoid?
Or, there’s that.
Me:
I don’t know. Maybe?
Graham:
Jealousy can be a bitch. I know from personal experience. LOL
Jace:
Except you were right to be jealous.
Graham:
Fucker.
Atlas:
In all seriousness, that’d be a pretty big secret to keep if her father and Lockhart are as tight as you say.
Graham:
And even if they did date, it doesn’t make him the father.
Me:
You’re right.
A wave of relief crashes over me. I’m being paranoid, a jealous prick.
Me:
Damn. I feel like I’m losing my fucking mind. What’s wrong with me?
Jace:
You’re in love with her.
Chris:
He would know. Ask him how nuts he was when he was fighting his feelings for Brynn. LOL! Fucking hilarious.
Jace:
Dick.
Atlas:
Am I the only one paying attention? Dude’s been in love with her since the moment he met her.
Graham:
True. He went from happy and single to stepfather in minutes.
Jace:
Bahahaha!
I roll my eyes as I imagine them snickering behind their screens.
Me:
Fuck off.
Jace:
Dude, just talk to her, man. You probably just got jealous when you saw the pic, but chances are it’s nothing. If there’s one thing I learned in the last few months, it’s not to jump to conclusions. Talk it out. Be honest with each other.
Graham:
Wow. Look who’s all growed up.
Atlas:
Jace Taggart giving relationship advice. Never thought I’d see the fucking day.
Chris:
You know, I’m the real expert. He got all his relationship advice from me.
Jace:
Here we fucking go again.
I lift my head from my phone and click it off because they’re right. I need to talk to her. Come right out and ask her.
Even if Sophie’s father is the one thing I promised never to talk about, the one thing she said is off-limits.