Chapter 1 #2
The woman smiled. And that’s when I realized exactly who she was.
Catherine Celia. CC. Holy hell. The last time I’d seen CC for more than five minutes, she’d been home on some break from college, hair in a messy bun, wearing sweats, rushing through Holland’s kitchen with a textbook under one arm and a granola bar in her mouth.
Before that, she’d been a teenager babysitting Isla, all long limbs and quick smiles, helping my little girl build block towers on Cole and Holland’s living room floor.
Now, if my math was serving me right, she had to be about twenty-four.
And very much not a teenager. My beer went down wrong.
I coughed hard, turning slightly as it burned its way into my lungs.
Max slapped me on the back. “You good, old man?”
I waved him off, still coughing. “Fine.”
CC’s eyes found mine from across the patio. Her smile widened. “Hunter Russell,” she said, coming toward me like she hadn’t just knocked the air clean out of my chest. “Wow. It’s been forever. How is it that I see Isla more than I see you?”
Her voice was smoother than I remembered. Lower. Still bright, but not girlish anymore.
I cleared my throat. “CC. Hey.”
She leaned in and hugged me. It was quick. Friendly. Normal. It still hit me like a body check. She smelled like vanilla, sunscreen, and something warm I didn’t have a name for. When she pulled back, her eyes flicked over my face.
“You look exactly the same,” she said.
“That’s because I moisturize,” I joked. Yup. Another bad joke.
Isla came running up then, wet hair already stuck to her cheeks. “Dad! Mila says they have diving rings.”
“Then I guess your day is made,” I said.
“CC!” Isla cheered, throwing herself at her.
“Isla, let go of CC. You’re getting her all wet,” I said.
“Oops.” Isla took a step back.
“No, it’s totally fine. I don’t mind,” CC replied.
“See, Dad?” Isla said, glaring at me. “CC is like my big sister too.”
“What?” I asked wide eyed.
“It’s a long story,” CC said.
“Okay,” I said slowly because the girls were smiling. Maybe it was some kind of inside joke?
“I asked CC to be my mommy, but she said she can only be my big sister,” Isla explained.
I felt my eyes widen. “Bug, that’s…”
“Don’t worry, we figured it all out,” CC said quickly. “We’re close, and I love Isla, so she is like my little sister.”
“Okay. Thanks?” I was so embarrassed. I didn’t have something better to say.
“Bug, go back to playing with your friends,” I said.
“Okay, Daddy,” she replied, then ran off.
“Sorry about that,” I said to CC.
“No big deal,” she said with a laugh.
I found myself staring. Which was a problem.
A big one. Cole was my coach and my friend.
Holland was one of the closest things Isla and I had to family in Dallas.
CC was their daughter. Their daughter who used to babysit my kid.
Their daughter who had been off building a life, grinding through seven years of school, undergrad in Pittsburgh and now medical school here in Dallas.
She was not someone I got to look at like that. Not even for half a second.
“CC!” a voice shouted.
Max shoved his beer into my hand before I could stop him and jogged past me. CC turned just in time for him to scoop her off her feet. She shrieked, laughing, as Max lifted her into the air and spun her around.
“Max!”
“There she is,” he said, setting her down but keeping an arm slung around her shoulders. “The family genius finally returns.”
She shoved him. “I saw you two months ago.”
“For like an hour. Doesn’t count.” He waved her off.
Watching them together shouldn’t have done anything to me.
They were cousins or more like siblings from what I heard.
Still, something sharp pressed under my ribs as Max grinned down at her and CC beamed back up at him.
I took a long pull from my beer to give my hands something to do.
Cole noticed. The man noticed everything.
He stepped beside me, eyes on his daughter, pride written all over his face. “Good to have her home.”
“I bet.”
It took a lot to keep my voice even. To figure out what the hell was going on with me and my hormones because I felt like a teenage boy.
“CC is living at home again. In the condo in the city,” Cole explained.
How had I not seen her around?
“Must be nice to have your kid home,” I said.
She also didn’t look like the child I remembered. She was a woman now. Close to graduating med school.
“CC, tell them your news,” Cole said.
CC rolled her eyes, but her cheeks flushed slightly. “Dad.”
“Nope. I’m bragging,” he insisted.
Holland laughed from the table. “Let him announce it, CC. He’s been holding it in all week.”
Cole turned to the group like he was announcing a championship roster. “CC declared a sports medicine elective for the summer. She’ll be working with the team doctors during preseason testing and training prep.”
Max whooped. “Doctor Davis, coming for our knees.”
“I’m not a doctor yet,” she reminded him.
“Close enough. You’re in your last year,” Max said.
Cole looked right at me. “She’ll be around the Blaze facility some. Shadowing. Observing. Learning the glamorous world of men complaining about groin pulls.”
“Hey,” Max said. “Our pain is real.”
“Your drama is real,” Cole shot back.
Everyone laughed. I did too, but it came out rough.
CC was going to be around the team. Around the facility. Around me. This was great. Exactly what I needed. One of my best friends and coach’s daughter hanging around. It wasn’t a big deal. My reaction would subside. Whatever was happening to me would fizzle out. I was sure.
The rest of the afternoon flew by with food coming off the grill. Kids cannonballed into the pool. Someone started a volleyball game in the grass. Cole cornered me near the cooler after lunch, wearing the look he got when he was about to say something I wouldn’t like.
I braced myself. “You look serious.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
“You have your coach face on,” I said, as if he didn’t know the mood he was giving off.
“This is my friend face,” he assured me.
“They’re unfortunately similar,” I said with a crooked grin.
He leaned back against the table and crossed his arms. “You dating anyone?”
I groaned. “Seriously, Cole?”
“What?” He shrugged.
“No,” I deadpanned.
This was nothing new.
“That was fast,” he said.
“Because the answer never changes.”
“That’s the problem.”
I knew his concern was coming from a good place. We had a few married guys on the team, and my parents were happily married to the point that they still acted like horny twenty-somethings, which was something I didn’t want to think about.
“My dating life is not a team issue,” I said because I didn’t have anything better.
I knew he was acting as my friend right now and not my coach, but I had been burned and had no intention of ever settling down. I was happy raising my daughter. She filled my life with joy. Watching her grow and knowing I had raised such an amazing kid felt like a privilege.
“No, but your permanent misery is,” Cole said.
Damn. He wasn’t letting this go.
“I’m not miserable.”
He gave me a flat look. “You’re thirty-three, not dead.”
“Bro, I’m good. I’m happy.”
“You have a good life, Hunter. Great kid. Great career. You don’t have to spend the rest of it alone.”
As if I didn’t have my mom on my case all the time. Now I needed my coach to lay it on thick too. I looked toward the pool, where Isla was laughing so hard she had to grab Mila’s shoulder to stay above water.
“I’m not alone,” I said.
Cole’s voice softened. “You know what I mean.”
The problem was that I’d tried that once.
Marriage. Family. It was my whole damn dream.
And it had blown up in my face before I’d even made it out of the reception hall.
My ex-wife had looked me in the eye and told me she was pregnant.
Told me the baby was mine. Told me we had to do the right thing.
I’d been young enough, stupid enough, and raised with enough money that she knew exactly how to play me. So, I married her.
Then, hours after the vows, after the champagne and speeches and fake smiles, I found her with another man, nailing her at my damn wedding.
That was how I learned the baby had never been mine.
By the next morning, the marriage was over, the honeymoon was ruined, and I was on a plane to Fiji alone because I couldn’t stand the thought of staying while everyone whispered about what a fool, I’d been.
Fiji was supposed to be an escape. Instead, it became the place where I met Monique.
She was beautiful, French and reckless with sun-warmed skin, a wicked smile, and an accent that made everything sound softer than it was.
She didn’t want forever. She just helped me forget that my chest felt like it had been cracked open and emptied out.