Chapter 4
YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW ME.
Dallas
“Ready to go, Sage?” I shout down the hallway that leads to her room on the opposite side of the house as mine.
“I’m putting my shoes on now.”
“Need any help?”
“Nope. Gots it!”
I laugh to myself as I finish cleaning up the pan I used to make scrambled eggs this morning. We haven’t taken a trip to the grocery store in town yet since we got in two days ago, and today will be the day we stock up on all our favorites.
Nan filled the kitchen with the basics for us, which shocked me. I knew the place would be furnished as it’s a rental, but I hadn’t expected the generosity of having eggs, milk, bread, and other basic essentials we might need to get started with.
I still think it’s weird calling her Nan.
I wish like hell I knew her real name. I had to save her number in my contacts as Nan, and it’s just…
odd. Maybe it’s just that I never met my grandparents or had anyone to call that.
Then again, this town feels a bit off. It’s nothing like I expected it to be.
After I spent the last couple of days getting everything unpacked and putting together Sage’s room, this place is starting to feel a bit more like a home, and Sage is falling in love with every aspect of the house.
Especially since she got the bedroom she’s always dreamed of.
My daughter wanted a princess theme set up, and who am I to tell her no?
She now has a room with light pink and light purple scattered around every square inch.
Waiting for Sage, I make my way to the back sliding door to look outside.
The sun is over the mountain, illuminating the sky.
A bright blue looks painted across the mountain backdrop.
This property doesn’t have a single tree on it compared to other houses around us, only expanding on the views in every direction.
It’s taking some getting used to as opposed to the congested city views I’ve been used to.
At first, I didn’t know how I’d feel living in a small ranch-style home located on, what appears to be, a quiet street, but this morning I woke up and a sense of calm and acceptance washed over me.
Maybe it’s that everything is done, minus the grocery shopping, and it hit me hard that this is really happening.
Sage seems happy already, and that alone makes me happy.
“I’m all ready,” Sage announces, entering the kitchen.
Turning around to face her, I smile. Her light blue eyes, which she got from me, shine in the dimly lit kitchen; her dark brown hair is pulled back into a messy ponytail.
“Let me fix your hair quickly.”
She groans. “It’s fine, Daddy. Besides, you don’t know how to braid it.”
“I’m going to learn, bug. I promise.” And I mean that. I’ve known for years that she prefers her hair in a braid. Since I never had her for long stretches, I never had enough of a chance to practice and really learn. “But for now, let’s fix the ponytail.”
This, I know how to do. I pull the band from her hair gently, raking my fingers through to flatten the flyaway hairs. Scooping it in my hands and replacing the hair tie in the same spot she had it before.
Her hands come up to feel my work, and she nods in approval. “Perfection. Where are we going again?”
“The grocery store. We need to get you snacks and lunches for when you get home from Mom’s. You start school on Monday.”
She jumps up and down. “I can’t wait for school! Do you think I’ll make all the new friends? Bestest friends?”
I laugh. “I have no doubt. You’re the coolest kid in the world.”
She smiles proudly. “All right, let’s go get all the snacks.”
“And food.”
“Whatever you say.”
She loads herself into the Tahoe, and we take the short drive to Main Street, where Nan said everything is located.
This town really does have a charm to it.
It’s the kind of quiet magic you don’t notice at first, but grows on you fast. When you make eye contact with someone walking on the sidewalk, they smile and lift their hand in a wave.
Every single person I’ve come across makes you feel like you matter, even if you have never said more than three words to them.
There’s a type of rhythm to this small-town life.
It’s slow, but steady.
It hits differently here, in a way that you don’t get lost in the crowd. You don’t feel like an outsider. It’s a place that makes you feel like you belong.
Even if it’s only for a short time.
Parking my truck, we make our way into a place called the General Store. It’s enormous and expands almost the whole street. From the outside looking in, it feels like a one-stop shop for everything we’re going to need.
“Do you think they’re going to have ice cream here?”
“Probably,” I answer, making our way inside.
“I hope they have gallons of it. A full tank.” I bark out a laugh at that. “Oh, and what about my favorite cereal with those colorful marshmallow pieces?”
“I’m sure they do.”
Grabbing a shopping cart, we begin making our way through the produce section. I grab some fresh fruit and vegetables. Sage loves fruit, mainly with a side of whipped cream, but vegetables? Nope. She won’t touch a leafy green—typical kid.
As I move down the aisles, I skip the one filled with candy, but when my eyes scan the aisle, I have to do a double-take. Because the strawberry blonde hair I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since our run-in at the coffee shop is scanning the shelves.
She captured my attention in a matter of minutes, and I couldn’t bring myself to look away.
In the same way that she is right now.
Poppy made me feel like the old Dallas Westbrook for just a moment.
After my marriage ended, I turned into the guy who shamelessly flirted with any woman because that’s who I am. Was. That’s who I was. Because now, I’m a divorced father in a new town, just trying to get my life together. I can’t allow any kind of relationship to happen again.
But the past couple of nights, whenever my head hit the pillow, I couldn’t stop the wandering thoughts.
Mostly, they were of the same hair I’m staring at now, flowing down her back when she faced the counter of the coffee shop.
So long that I imagined how it would feel wrapped around my hand, even though she had this look of innocence about her.
She definitely looks young, and I hate myself for thinking these thoughts. She seems younger than anyone I’ve dated before. Which already means she’s off-limits to an old, washed-up thirty-five-year-old like me.
Do you know what the worst part of the whole interaction was?
I don’t think she knew who I was at all.
And I consider that the worst part because it makes me more attracted to her.
I can be myself. I would know she’s not after me for the exposure of being with a sports celebrity.
I don’t have to let my past or job weigh on me.
At first, I thought her eyes went wide because she knew me as the previous starting pitcher of the San Francisco Staghorns, who turned into a head coach and was plastered all over the media.
Her eyes told another story.
The most stunning ones I’d ever seen—a perfect mix of blue and green—are now staring at me from the opposite end of the aisle.
Her lips parted in shock as if she’s just as taken aback to see me as I am her.
Why? No clue. This is a small town. She said it herself, insinuating that we’re bound to run into one another.
“Daddy, can we get these?” Sage asks up ahead toward the next aisle, forcing my gaze to pull away from Poppy.
Looking back at Poppy once more, she’s no longer standing there.
“Yeah,” I answer, not even knowing what I agreed to.
Now I’m moving along the grocery store on autopilot because Poppy has successfully distracted me again.
We overstock the refrigerator and pantry before taking the first trip to meet April so that Sage can spend the weekend with her.
I can only imagine how difficult it will be for April to only see our daughter on the weekends now.
I know first-hand that being a parent while chasing your goals and dreams in a career is challenging.
The thought tugs at my chest, making me feel guilty in a way. I never put in the effort I should have, and Sage deserves better.
The drive isn’t bad at all, which also proves that this arrangement will work for us.
It’s about an hour-long trip back and forth since we found a meeting spot that’s conveniently halfway for both of us.
By the time I make it back into town, the sun has set behind the mountains, and the light blue skies have given way to a deeper ocean blue.
When I turn onto Main Street, a neon barstool over the corner bar flashes ahead, tempting me to slow down.
I could really use a drink.
I park my Tahoe in front of Seven Stools, and inwardly laugh. This whole town has an interesting flair to it, that’s for sure.
Looking down, I realize I’m wearing a pair of jeans and a solid black T-shirt, deciding it should be enough to fit in with the crowd here. The last thing I want to do is draw attention to myself so I blindly reach behind me to see if I left a baseball hat on the floor.
Bingo.
I place it over my tousled, messy hair, and thank the universe above that it’s not my dark green one that says Staghorns on it.
Entering the bar, the sound from inside quickly thrums in my body.
The music is loud and energizing, a mix of classic rock and country, as I make my way to an open bar stool, taking note of the fact that this place only has seven stools.
I smile to myself at the clever marketing.
The smell of grilled meat and beer fills the air, and I can feel the energy of the place pulsating around me.
“What can I get you?” the bartender asks.
I scan the area and try to understand what’s happening and why they have a mini stage set up in the corner.
“What’s all this about tonight?”