13. Ryan
THIRTEEN
Ryan
I’ve managed to avoid touching June all day, which I’m counting as a win, especially when her skin calls to me like nothing else. I’ve been good. Okay, I’ve been average. I might have made eyes at her a few times during dinner, but don’t worry, I was quick to look away whenever she turned in my direction, so she’ll never know.
Thank God Oliver wanted to watch that movie. It was my saving grace.
While I didn’t actually get to see any of it, I was sufficiently distracted. Oliver talked my ear off the entire hour and a half, telling about his favorite characters and explaining what he liked during every scene. June was on his other side—far away from me—trying not to laugh as I was pelted with questions and movie facts.
I’m assuming that’s what happens when you watch a movie with a toddler.
Couldn’t say for sure, though. I’ll have to ask ... who the fuck has kids? Vaughn fucking Westgate. Ironman himself. He has kids—two girls, if I remember correctly .
I make a mental note to pull him aside sometime this week and ask him a few things.
And speaking of the King of Questions, he must be asleep. We’ve had silence for the past ten minutes straight, and the credits have begun to roll. This will be my first night with June, and I’m so out of sorts. A point only punctuated as I lift Oli from the couch and cradle him against my chest.
He curls into me, his soft snores never abating as I climb the stairs, but by the time we make it to the top, his hand has curled into my shirt.
Things are so much different now.
Not bad.
Just different.
A good different.
Now if only I can figure out how to get my son inside the sheets while I’m using both arms to hold him. Next time I need to remember to pull down the sheets before we have movie time.
I shift around the bed, trying out different maneuvers in my head, but everything falls flat. That’s how June finds me, standing here in utter defeat, trying to magic him into this bed.
The lifesaver that she is pulls down the covers without question. “Sully was still down on the couch.”
As gentle as I can, I lay Oliver down, tucking the sheets around him, and run a hand through his soft brown hair. “Sully?”
June holds up the dinosaur I gave him earlier today. Wait. Today? That feels like so long ago. “It’s what he named our new friend here. Said it was a good name for a T. rex. You must have missed it between his favorite monster, the dream he had last week, and the questions about your childhood fears. ”
I huff a laugh, but it’s quick to die on my tongue as June leans forward and brushes her lips across Oliver’s temple. My son and my ... my nothing ... but damn if this doesn’t feel like nothing. My traitorous pulse races, and there’s that image again, the one of June pregnant, swollen with my child.
June Morgan feels a lot like mine.
Which she is not.
I push those thoughts down, whisper good night to Oliver, and head back out into the hallway, June following closely behind. And fuck. Now we’re alone, and I’ve not been able to wrangle myself under control. The more time I spend with June, the more out of control I feel, which isn’t good.
This isn’t what’s supposed to happen.
She’s not part of my plans.
What is it about her that has me so enraptured?
I’m not sure I have an answer, but I need to pull myself together and have a long-overdue conversation with my brain. He needs to focus on football and not on all the different ways he can pine after this woman. She needs to remain in the past—a past that is already so full of turmoil and despair, I’d rather leave it untouched. It’s better that way.
Dredging up old memories is not a pleasant experience, and I have no desire to flay myself open and expose all my jagged, broken pieces. Especially to the one woman who has the potential to destroy every last piece of me.
Giving someone that kind of power again is not something I’m looking to do anytime soon. Caitlin ... it’s been years since I lost her, but her shadow is always there, reminding me not to make the same mistake twice.
Not to fall in love.
Not to let someone in .
Not to give someone the potential to wreck you in a way you’ll never recover.
You never know. Maybe a real adult relationship is something I’ll want to pursue once I’m done with football, although honestly, I don’t see myself getting married again. Right now, it’s not in the cards. I just don’t have time and can’t sacrifice my focus, not with my contract coming up at the end of the season. Oliver is priority number one with football a close second.
That’s it.
Which is why all the memories from our night together need to be buried.
“I hate to ask the question ...” June turns to me, her face barely visible in the dim light from downstairs, and I’m nearly knocked on my ass as the mental image of her curled up next to me, with her head on my chest, barrels into me. She was asleep, worn out by yours truly. The moon hung low, bathing her in soft light, and I had one thought: I’d never seen a more beautiful woman. “Where do I sleep tonight?”
“Huh?” Fuck. I pride myself on paying attention, on my awareness of my surroundings, but not when it comes to June, apparently.
“Where should I sleep?”
Wrapped around me. Preferably naked.
“My room.” Her eyes widen and yup, I heard exactly how that sounded. I clear my throat and try again. “I don’t have another room made up yet, but you’re welcome to use my bed tonight. Don’t worry, I won’t be in it. I’ll take the couch.”
“Can you fit on the couch?”
That’s a good question. “It shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll make it work.”
“I can take the couch.” June glances to the wall beside us. To the floor. Basically anywhere but at me. “It’s the least I can do. You have a game tomorrow. I’m sure you need your sleep.”
“We can share.” Me and my big fucking mouth. The second those damning words left my mouth, I was filled with regret. Is it too late to take them back? Better double down and really cram my foot between my teeth. “It’s only for tonight. You’ll have the room to yourself tomorrow, and you’ll have your own space on Monday.”
She finally looks at me, her cheeks darkened, her eyes flitting around my face, finally landing on my lips. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“No problem. Let me brush my teeth and the room is yours. Your bags are on the bed.” I’m already on the move, walking past her when she stops me.
“We’re both adults. It’s fine. Like you said, it’s only one night.”
One night.
One night of pure fucking torture.
I don’t know what I was thinking.
Newsflash—I wasn’t.
I make sure to leave my door open in case Oliver gets up in the middle of the night, and I spend the next several minutes berating myself as I get ready for bed. I list out all the reasons this won’t work. I look at a few old pictures of Caitlin, and I remind myself to man up, to take charge of my own thoughts and focus.
Except, when June walks out of my bathroom in a pair of purple shorts that are borderline scandalous and a matching silk tank top, all I can focus on is her.
My mouth goes dry, and there’s a good chance I swallowed my tongue. I’d love to say something. Anything. But I can’t.
Her fingers toy with the hemline as she makes her way to the bed. “These were the only pajamas they had that weren’t pants. I get hot when I sleep.”
I’m hot right now, my dick already hardening.
Motherfucker. She’s going to test my sanity. My strength. My resolve. Basically, everything I have.
She’s cautious as she lifts the sheets and slides in next to me. I’m gritting my teeth, waiting for her leg to glide against mine, her hand to run up my side, something, but it never comes. I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed as she shifts to lie on her back, likely staring up at the ceiling like I am.
An awkward silence settles over us, blanketing us—or at least me—with an oppressive weight.
I don’t know what to do or what to say. Is this where we make small talk? Do I ask her about herself? Her family? Do I try to get to know her?
Or do I roll over and try to get the sleep I’m sure I’ll need for the field tomorrow.
June moves her legs, the rustling of the sheets cutting through the air. And she laughs. “Well, this is a little ... it’s something. You know, we don’t really know much about each other. Maybe we should ask each other a few questions. Break the ice.”
I nod despite the fact she can’t see me. “Sure.”
“So, uh, football player, huh? Is that what you always wanted to do?”
I heave a breath, threading my fingers together, and rest them on my stomach. I’m not entirely sure how much I want to divulge about my past, but she’s right, we should get to know each other, and nothing kills a boner faster than my past. “It’s what I was good at, even as a kid. I was always better, faster, more skilled. I played varsity as a freshman and went to a Division I in Texas on a full-ride scholarship. Nothing else ever clicked like football. Guess it’s in my blood.”
She makes a humming noise in the back of her throat. “Did your dad play?”
I don’t answer right away, not sure I can. I let her question hang between us for several seconds. My past is always tricky, talking about my dad even more so. There aren’t many people who know the story and fewer who know who he is. I think there might be only five of us. Me, Dean, our moms, and Gunner. And with the exception of my mom, none of them know about Caitlin.
I’m where secrets go to die.
But perhaps this one needs to be shared. Whether I like it or not, he’s Oliver’s grandfather, and while he’ll never meet him, June has a right to know who he is.
“Uh, yeah ... he was pretty big when he played. Retired about twenty years ago.”
“That must’ve been cool, having him teach you.”
I freeze for a beat, blowing out a breath, my jaw clenching, and I force it to relax. “He wasn’t involved in my life.”
“Oh shit. Shoot.” She rolls over and places a hand on top of mine. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’ve accepted who he is.” I’m quick to respond, moving to my side to face her. I can’t make out any of her features, but having her here is comforting. “He was married, had been for years, and cheated on his wife when he was on the road. Me and my half brother Dean—you’ll get to meet him soon—were products of those affairs. Our moms got along and made sure Dean and I knew each other and were somewhat close until he left for college. Our dad sent our moms child support, hush money, but that was it. He had his wife and his own kids.”
“No offense, but he sounds like a dirtbag.”
“He is. I don’t think he gives a flying fuck about me, but if he’s ever at any games, I don’t want him to meet Oliver.”
“Why would he be at your games? Is he trying to make up for what he did?”
“God no.” My laugh is hollow, humorless. “I’m not sure he remembers I still exist. His real son, Anders, plays for Baltimore. He’s in the stands every time we play them. I know because they make sure to show the legend, Patrick Kingsley, every single fucking time he’s there.”
“Does your brother know about you and Dean?” Her voice is quiet, barely above a whisper.
“No clue. I don’t think so, though. We’ve gone head-to-head on the field, and he’s never said a thing.” Not that there’s a lot of time to gossip with players from the other team during or between plays. There might be some time before and after the game, but I avoid anything Kingsley. Our father is always there, and I try to be where he’s not. “What about you? Your parents?”
“Well, I am the oldest of four girls. My parents are divorced, but trust me, that’s for the best. They’re total opposites, which is funny since they’re both lawyers.”
“Both of them?”
“Yep. Met in law school. My mom went into family law and my dad corporate. My dad is super laid-back, and my mom ...” She trails off, her fingers toying with the sheets between us. “She means well but tries to run my life. She hates that I’m doing anything aside from law. But it’s not for me. I tried. I took all the prelaw stuff in college, but never loved it. She hates yoga and is not so patiently waiting for me to fail.”
“Well, we’re not going to let that happen.”
She goes quiet, turning away from me to lie on her back before saying, “Thank you. It’ll be nice to have someone else on my side.”
“Of course.”
We descend into silence once again, and I stay on my side, listening to June’s breathing. Eventually it slows down and she falls asleep. I don’t. I toss and turn for hours, staring at her sleeping form, trying to shake the feeling that she’s mine, that having her here in my bed is right. I want to be there for her, encourage her, protect her. I want everything.
But I can’t have any of it.
June isn’t mine, and the sooner I can convince myself of that truth, the better off I’ll be.