14. Austin #2
I scan our surroundings, trying to look extra sneaky as I speak quietly.
“Stay here. I’ll be right back.” She nods, and I take off toward the front yard, hurrying toward the bucket of balloons.
I’ve got it by the handle a moment later, careful not to lose any ammo as I tiptoe back to where Paris awaits, a giant grin plastered across her face.
Without a word, she takes one in her hand and turns around, ready to launch it in the direction of her unsuspecting boys.
It’s almost impossible to hold back my laughter as the balloon leaves her hand, landing right at Rhys’ feet and splashing all over them.
“What the…” he says, his brows furrowing as he looks around quizzically. But before he can make sense of what’s happening, Paris sends another balloon their way, this one hitting Rowan on the leg and exploding on impact.
“Mom!” they yell in unison, their jaws dropping.
But my little sniper shows me exactly where her oldest gets his great aim from, reaching into the bucket and sending two more liquid bombs in their direction.
They both rupture the moment they make contact with the grass, soaking the boys from the waist down.
She steps out, showing herself, both hands already locked and loaded with more colorful balloons. “Not so tough now that I’ve got some help, huh?” I take that as my cue to step out from the shadows, a proud smirk tugging at one corner of my mouth as I cross my arms over my chest.
“Coach Baker!” Rhys shouts, his arms shooting up over his head.
Rowan laughs—actually laughs—and that’s all it takes for me to feel like I just won the fucking lottery.
He and I have been working together for weeks now, and while he’s definitely become more open and comfortable with me, this is the first time he’s actually shown any type of emotion that wasn’t laced with at least a little bit of indifference.
Maybe it’s because he takes his position as quarterback more seriously than a game of water balloons in the backyard, but either way, I can’t say that I hate having that little grin pointed in my direction.
“I heard you two were bamboozling your mom,” I say, my eyes sliding over to where Paris is ready to send another couple of rounds their way. “I bet you didn’t know she had perfect aim, but you sure do now, huh?”
They both look down to where their legs are dripping for a few seconds, then turn their attention to one another.
They silently converse with just their eyes, something I’ve witnessed them doing on more than one occasion at practice.
It works out great there because they can communicate the plays without having to say a word.
But here, two little sets of eyebrows rising and falling while they plot? I don’t like it one bit.
“What are they doing?” I ask Paris, the words quietly passing out of one side of my mouth. Her gaze narrows, then goes wide, realization slamming into her.
“We should run.”
No sooner has she said the words than both boys pick up the flower sprinkler, heading toward us with it as fast as their legs can carry them.
Before I can think better of it, I’ve scooped Paris into my arms, and we’re bolting toward the front yard with Rowan and Rhys hot on our heels.
Drops of water splash against my backside, boisterous giggles and screams echoing through the air as I attempt to get us to safety.
Thankfully, the hose that’s attached to the sprinkler runs out, forcing them to abandon the assault.
I’m grateful that the bucket of balloons they passed seemed to go unnoticed because I know I’d be soaked from head to toe otherwise.
I set Paris on her feet, both of us doubling over with laughter.
The boys are beside themselves too, happiness and excitement radiating from their small frames as they playfully jump on one another.
I feel like a fucking kid again, truly unable to remember the last time I had this much fun when I wasn’t on a football field.
It was definitely before my parents died, for sure.
We used to play outside together all the time, and I can’t help but think of how they’d love Paris and her kids for bringing a bit of carefree joy back into my life.
I can hear my mother now, telling me to sweep this beautiful woman off her feet before someone else does.
And my father would lovingly tell her not to meddle but pull me aside later on to give me pointers.
I wish they could see us right now, even though they probably wouldn’t be too happy with my reasons for not already giving in to my growing feelings for Paris.
It’s still so complicated, though. I don’t want to cross any lines and end up making things weird for everyone involved.
Thankfully, I’m pulled from my thoughts when Paris’ phone alarm blares from where she’s left it on the front steps. She runs over, lifts it up, and silences the loud chime before turning to the boys.
“Time to go inside and change,” she tells them.
“Auntie Oaks will be here in a half hour to pick you up for Family Night at the Gladiators game.” Rowan and Rhys cheer, eager and enthusiastic, jumping into action immediately as they scurry toward the house.
The screen door slams behind them the moment they pass through it, the sound of their little feet fading into nothing until the two of us are surrounded by the quiet serenity of a Cleveland summer day.
“Family Night,” I echo, turning toward her.
The tips of her brown hair are wet, showing a natural curl that I’ve somehow never noticed before.
Granted, she wears it up a lot at work, but it makes me wonder what she’d look like fresh from the shower, wrapped in a sexy little robe with nothing underneath.
“Yeah,” she replies. “They do it every year. It’s a regular season game, but after, they have activities for the kids.
I normally go, but I need a break from the noise.
Sometimes, I just get—” She waves her hands animatedly as she looks for the words, but they evade her. “I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.”
My expression softens, and I take her small hand in mine, lacing our fingers together as my thumb gently caresses her knuckles. Electricity skitters across my skin, warmth traveling up my arm just like it always does when I touch her. “You get overstimulated.”
She shrugs, her eyes downcast as she toes the grass beneath her feet.
She almost looks ashamed, and I immediately want to kill whoever made her think she should be.
“Something like that. Usually, I try to power through and not make a big thing of it.
But when it gets really bad, my body kind of…
shuts down, whether I want it to or not.
“Thankfully, Memphis is very intuitive when it comes to me,” she continues, “considering I don’t really pay attention to my own needs until it’s too late.
I swear, he sees the signs before I do half the time and immediately steps in to help.
I’m pretty sure that’s why he offered to keep the kids through tomorrow, since he has two days off. ”
This woman.
I want to scold her for not listening to her nervous system—for trying to power through, as she says, when she should be taking better care of herself.
But I’m not her man, and I’m definitely not her daddy, so I really have no right to say anything at all.
I’m just grateful that Memphis can tell when she needs rest, but the thought of her having nobody else to help only makes my protective instinct harder to ignore.
Her ex-husband should be here, not only for the kids, but Paris, as well. I can’t imagine what a fucking idiot this guy must be to build a family with someone so amazing, then dismiss her like last week’s news.
Fuck him, though. I want to be the one who reminds this beautiful, caring, selfless woman to be kind to herself…
and I want to bring solace into her otherwise chaotic world when it all becomes too much.
The realization slams into me like a speeding train, but I don’t overthink it, afraid that if I do, I might fuck everything up.
And for the first time in years, I don’t want to fuck everything up.
Damn.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I bring my gaze up to hers. “Can I take you somewhere?”
“Now?” she asks, checking her phone for the time. “I have to get Lennon ready, then I have a bunch of stuff to do around the house. If I don’t do it tonight, I may not get anoth—”
“I’ll help you,” I interject, not giving a single shit what I’m even volunteering for.
It doesn’t matter. The main thing right now is that I get her somewhere where she can relax and recharge.
“Please, Baby Girl. Just for a few hours. I promise not to let you fall behind on whatever it is you need to get done.”
She bites her lower lip, tugging on it with her teeth as she contemplates. My heart nearly stops, anxiety pulling at my chest as the need to unburden her intensifies. I can’t put into words how I know what’ll help her in this moment, but I do. She just has to agree.
After what feels like a lifetime, she releases a slow, shaky breath, nodding her head as she finally puts me out of my misery.
“Okay. I’ll go.”