Chapter 1
UNDERSTOOD HER BOUNDARIES
One Month Later
Jayce leaned back on the bench in the late March sun at the park.
His eyes were shut, the rays beating on his face and spreading sunshine through his extremities.
Or so he was trying to convince himself.
“Watch out,” he heard yelled and opened his eyes, then turned to see a basketball coming at his head.
He reached out and snagged it, then tossed it back to the boy in the baseball cap chasing after it.
“Nice catch,” he said, when the boy grabbed it.
“Thanks. I’m getting better with my rebounds but missed that one.”
The kid had been shooting hoops alone on the court to the right. There were other adults on benches or picnic tables and he just assumed one of them was the kid’s parent.
“I know a thing or two about basketball,” Jayce said. “Let me see your best shot.”
The boy laughed and ran back, got halfway between the foul line and hoop and executed a damn flawless shot, all net.
Jayce clapped his hands, and the kid came back.
“That was good, huh? I want a hoop at my house but Mom says she needs someone to deliver it. It won’t fit in her car.”
“Archer!”
The kid turned his head. “Hi, Mom.”
He lifted his hand to a woman who’d had an e-reader in her fingers. “Stop bugging people,” she said.
“I’m not,” Archer said.
“Cool name.”
“I think so too, but some kids at school pick on me about it.”
He waved his hand. “Don’t listen to them. I bet they are just jealous of your great shooting ability.”
“Ha,” Archer said. “I said that too, but Mom told me I have to be humble. Whatever that means.”
“I might have heard that a time or two,” he said. “Let me see you do a layup.”
“Sure,” Archer said, running back to the court, dribbling all the way with great ball control, then running to the hoop and tossing it up. He missed, but he was damn close.
Jayce stood up and moved to the edge of the court. “Bring your knee a little closer to your chest as you jump.”
“I tell him that too.”
Archer ran back to him. “My mom is coming. Ignore her if she’s mean. She doesn’t like strangers.”
“Smart of her,” he mumbled.
The woman stopped in front of him, the baseball hat on her head shielding her face from view. She was tall, maybe five foot nine, light brown hair blowing around behind her back and to the front some.
“Jayce?” she asked. That voice. He’d remember that anywhere.
“Farrah Hughes? Oh my God, is that you?”
She pulled her hat off her head, her same long hair spilling over her shoulders as it’d done seventeen years ago.
Those eyes he remembered—light blue, so bright and clear that there were times he felt as if he was going to get lost in their depths.
“It’s me,” she said, going in for a hug. “Farrah Lane now.”
He was damn well going to accept that embrace and return it.
Maybe he held on longer than he should have, squeezed her tighter, and breathed in some of her scent.
The same feelings were there. Comfort, acceptance, and belonging with a stirring of longing.
Things he’d been missing from his life for years and never realized it until this moment.
Maybe coming home wasn’t so bad after all.
Even if it was only to remind him of what he could have again. He removed himself from the embrace as much as he wanted to linger.
“And this is your son, Archer? I can see the resemblance now. And why he’s so good at basketball. Gets it from his mom.”
“That’s right,” Archer said. “My father doesn’t like sports.”
His eyes dropped quickly to her left hand. It was bare.
“No,” she said. “He doesn’t. Jayce played basketball too. You went to college to play, didn’t you?”
“I did,” he said. He’d gone to Davidson College two hours away. Not that far, but far enough to give some independence.
“Do you still play?” Archer asked.
“No,” he said, laughing. He could barely watch it now but couldn’t stop the love for the game. It’d return in time, he was sure.
He’d had a lot of friends from his old job. Not just coworkers, but players.
The minute he was done, more than half those office mates dropped off the face of the earth. Most of the players he was close to reached out now and again, but he expected little more.
“How have you been?” he asked. “Other than you’ve got a kid and are married.”
“Divorced,” she said. “For five years now.”
“Oh, sorry about that.”
She didn’t offer if she was involved with someone now or not and it didn’t feel right to ask.
They’d been friends once. More than that for two months.
Never lovers. They didn’t make it there. She was a virgin when they dated their senior year in high school. He wasn’t and would have loved to be her first, but he acknowledged and understood her boundaries.
When they split, he’d been hurt, but held it in like he always did.
They were both going away to college and she thought it was best to not be tied down. He didn’t argue.
No hard feelings on his end and he was positive none on hers.
“It happens,” she said. “Are you visiting?”
“I’m back home for now.”
He’d been home two weeks and thought for sure he’d be healing more than he was.
Maybe it was living with his parents that wasn’t helping.
They had questions and he didn’t want to give answers.
He knew their time and personal space were going to run out along with their patience.
She smiled politely at that. The same as his old high school buddy, Colby did when he ran into him last week and got a smirk as if they all knew he’d never make it outside of the family business.
Maybe he shouldn’t have run his mouth so much about leaving the area.
“I heard you had some big job with the Charlotte Hornets.”
“Do you know Nino Meyers?” Archer asked.
“I do,” he said, smiling. The boy’s eyes were wide as saucers. “I’ve known him for years.”
Nino would be retiring after the season when his contract ran out. No one knew yet, but a select few. Jayce being one. They’d gotten close over the past ten years.
The guy should have retired five years ago but kept hanging on and putting up solid numbers. At thirty-two his career was going to be a family man, or so Nino said.
At thirty-four Jayce realized that life was passing him by and he didn’t have millions in the bank like the players did to sit back on.
Couldn’t be much of a family man if he spent more than half the year on the road. No one would want to put up with that.
Hell, he didn’t even want to anymore.
He’d been thinking it for years but held on because coming home felt more like an internal failure that he couldn’t handle the dream he’d always wanted and had. The one he boasted about to everyone he knew.
“That’s so cool,” Archer said. “He’s my favorite player.”
“He’s a cool dude,” he said.
“Do you want to shoot hoops with Mom and me?”
He turned to Farrah. “Just like old times?”
“You two played basketball together? How do you know each other?”
“We went to school together,” she said. “Jayce is an old friend.”
“Friends who play basketball are the best,” Archer said. The kid handed over the ball to him.
He walked to the court, then turned his head to look at Farrah. “Well, are you up for some one on one? I’ll go light on you. We can show your son your moves.”
Farrah laughed just like she had years ago when he’d asked her to play.
“You’re on,” she said, stealing the ball away from him, dribbling with speed that didn’t quite match what she had in high school, but executing the perfect layup.
“Yes!” Archer yelled. “Go, Mom.”