9. Ryan
NINE
Ryan
How much stalking is too much stalking? Asking for a friend.
Definitely nothing to do with me parked across the street from Hot 4 Yoga—where I have been since eight forty-five this morning—and staring through the second-story windows, hoping to catch another glimpse of Oliver or June. She said they’d be done around ten, but I couldn’t sit in my apartment staring at my walls any longer.
Could I have taken the time to respond to the mess of messages waiting for me on my phone? Sure. But the only people I want to talk to this morning are inside this building.
So I ignore everyone else and I wait.
And I wait some more.
And then I glance at the time on my phone.
I managed to kill two minutes.
Only thirteen more before the class ends. Not a problem. I can do this. I’m a professional athlete, and discipline is my middle name. I’m cool, calm, collected. That’s me. Cool as a fucking cucumber .
You know, a cucumber on a hot and sweltering summer day.
I shift the bouquet of flowers, a bright blend of sunflowers and pink and peach roses I picked up for June, and I double-check my gifts for Oliver.
Twelve minutes left.
With a sigh, I lean my head back against the headrest, my hands wringing around the steering wheel. I take a deep breath and then several more. My heart is racing, beating faster with every passing second, every second that’s taking its sweet-ass time.
I’m going to meet my son this morning. Officially. He’s going to know I’m his dad and not some random man who shows up at his apartment to color. ’Cause that would be weird, right? Unless there are random men showing up to—nope. Not going there this morning. This morning I’m meeting my son, and I refuse to put myself in a shitty mood.
Now if only the clock could get moving.
Twelve minutes left. Fuck me. Still twelve minutes? What in the flying fuck is happening with time right now? Why isn’t it moving?
Fuck discipline. Fuck being a cucumber.
I want nothing more than to bust in there and ... well, I don’t really have a plan beyond that. If I weren’t dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt, I could lurk in the back and pretend to be here for the class. Maybe no one would notice I don’t have a mat. Or that I have no idea what I’m doing.
Who am I kidding? I’d stand out like a sore thumb, and it would only be a matter of time before someone would recognize me.
The class would go off the rails, and there’s a chance June wouldn’t be very happy to see me. Yeah ... so that’s a terrible idea.
Fuck. Eleven minutes left. This is the longest morning of my life.
I unlock my phone, intending to pull up the pictures of Oliver when a message pops up from Jacob Martin, my personal assistant, one I share with a few of the guys on the team.
Jacob: Wait till you see all the stuff I found for your son’s room. I even found one of those lights that projects dinosaurs around the room.
Jacob: I was tempted to get one for myself.
Jacob: Any idea what size he wears? I’d guess 4T but I can grab a few things up and down a size just in case.
Me: That’s fine. Just grab a handful of things and once I know his size, we can get more.
Me: I know he has clothes and stuff at his mom’s place, but I want him to feel at home here too.
Jacob: Don’t worry. Your little man is going to love his room at your place.
Me: You sound sure of yourself.
Jacob: So sure I’m going to give myself a raise on your behalf.
Jacob: How do we feel about a play tent and fairy lights?
Me: You’re kidding right?
Me: That’s obviously a yes.
Jacob: Got a stack of books for him and one for you. Grumpy Monkey. Seemed like something you might find useful.
Me: Thanks
Me: Don’t worry about that raise. You won’t need it.
Jacob: It’s okay, I bought myself a dino light. Oh, and thanks for the gourmet breakfast. It was great.
Me: Remind me why I don’t fire you.
Jacob: Because I’m out buying stuff for your son and didn’t ask any questions.
Jacob: And you like my protein shakes and turkey meatballs.
Me: Got me there.
I do like his meatballs, and I especially like the fact that he operates very discreetly. He’s fast, efficient, and unlike my last assistant, nothing gets leaked to the gossip magazines. My last one would’ve had at least two tabloid reporters tailing my car, which would not be helpful this morning.
They’ll eventually find out I have a son, and I’m sure after that they’ll be sniffing around my building and staking out home games. But until then, I’d rather this stay between June and me. Especially until we figure things out with him.
I still have to convince her I’m all in, and that would be a lot harder with reporters shoving a microphone in her face.
Just as I’m about to fire off another message to Jacob, I glance at the time and halle-fucking-lujah. Class should be getting out any minute now. Wait. Correction. The front door is opening. Class is getting out now.
I slink down, grabbing a baseball hat from the passenger seat, and put it on, watching for June and Oliver like a creeper. They don’t come out with the rest of the crowd, and there’s no fucking way I’m going to sit in my car and wait any longer. I’ve been as patient as can be.
I’m a football player, not a saint.
After adjusting the brim of my hat, I grab the bouquet of flowers and Oliver’s gift, and I’m out of the car and across the street at lightning speed. My heart thuds, getting faster and faster with every step.
When I first found out about Oliver, I was scared about so many things. Hell, I still am. But I’m in. I’m invested. I may have no idea what being a parent is going to be like, but I’m excited to start my journey, to prove to myself that I’m nothing like my dad and to show my boy all the love he’ll ever need. I can do this. I can be a dad.
I’m about to open the door to the studio when it flies open and June nearly crashes into my chest. She’s so close, she almost gets a face full of flowers. Actually I’m not so sure she didn’t.
June grabs onto my shoulder with her free hand, her eyes widening as she takes me in. “Holy shi—shoot. Ryan, you’re here early.”
She has no idea. “Yeah. I, uh ...”
June takes a step back, putting Oliver down on the ground, and holy fuck. I really need to start doing yoga or something. At the very least, I need to volunteer to be a waterboy for some of her classes.
Fuck.
Those pants are skintight, and her tank top, while a little looser, doesn’t leave much to the imagination. Or at least mine, since I’m intimately familiar with everything she has under those clothes. Her hair is up in a high ponytail, a few wisps loose around her face. Her cheeks are pink and she looks ... anxious. Frazzled.
“June? Is everything okay?” I glance behind her, waving at Oliver, who tentatively returns the gesture, and I lower my voice. “Is something wrong with Oliver?”
“Nothing like that.” She shakes her head, her eyes going back and forth between Oliver and me. “I’m so sorry, but I didn’t realize you’d be here so soon. I’m going to have to cancel our plans for today. I just got a call from the apartment manager, and it seems that the place above mine was flooding. The owner is on vacation, so I guess it had been filling up for a while.”
“That doesn’t sound great.”
“It’s not.” She runs a hand along the length of her ponytail and sighs. “The water was so bad my ceiling caved in, and their apartment is now in my apartment. They’re still trying to find the leak, but the damage to both places is pretty extensive.”
“Do you need help? Do we need to go there? See what’s salvageable?”
June shakes her head again, blowing out a long breath. “They’ve got the whole apartment blocked off. They’ll call me when I’m allowed to return, but I have no idea what to do or where to go. All our clothes are there. Our food. Oliver’s toys.” She groans, a hand going to her temple, and she closes her eyes. “I’m going to have to call my mom.”
“You can stay with me.”
The words are out before I can process what I’m saying, but I don’t want to take it back. It would give me a chance to get to know them, to get to know my son, and I have plenty of space. The stuff for Oliver is en route to my place, and while I may not have an official guest room set up for June, it wouldn’t take much to get one of my two extra rooms furnished.
Most importantly, they’d be comfortable, safe.
June’s brows raise to her hairline, and she stares at me like I just grew a second head out of the side of my neck. “What?”
Oliver points to the flowers, a shy smile on his face. “Did you get those for my mom?”
“I did.” I hold them out to June, and as her gaze flits to them, her eyes flash with surprise. Not sure how she missed them, considering I’ve been holding the bouquet between us since she nearly face-planted directly into them. I guess the last few minutes have been a lot. Finding out your entire life has been destroyed in the blink of an eye would be unsettling. “And this is for you, little man.”
“For me?” He takes the bag, immediately digging into it, yanking the decorative paper from the top and tossing it on the floor behind him. He gasps, pulling out the large stuffed T. rex I got for him yesterday, and holding it above his head. “Mom, he got me a Tyranno ... Tyrannosaurus. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I murmur as June takes the flowers, humming to herself as she smells a few of the pink roses. “Those reminded me of you. Bright. Happy. Beautiful.”
“Thank you, Ryan. This is really sweet.” Her words are soft, a pink blush spreading across her cheeks. “But I don’t know ...”
“Come stay with me.”
“We hardly know each other. I have work, you have football. This is a terrible idea.”
She’s right, it is, but it might also be the best opportunity to get to know my son. “Which makes this perfect. Look, you need a place to stay for probably a couple weeks, and I have plenty of room. I’d like to get to know Oliver and try to make up for some of the time I’ve missed. Please let me do this for you. For him.”