Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Natalie
Sitting in the back seat of the Uber car Max had arranged for me, I checked my messages and texts. There were a lot of them to check, and no matter how many times I tried reading them or tried listening, my concentration was shit.
Bottom line was my Dad and step-wannabe were worried and wondering where the hell I was.
I’d sent a text last night telling dad I’d be staying another night.
He wasn’t entitled to any more information than that.
He must have forgotten that I was on spring break and had nowhere to be and no responsibilities for a week.
And I certainly didn’t feel a need to answer to them.
The ride was forty-five minutes, mostly because of traffic and I was exhausted, because I hadn’t gotten much sleep. That made me smile. But I couldn’t fall asleep now here in the car and not with my head spinning with possibilities. About what I might have with Max.
And what I wouldn’t have. Our children. My heart pounded at me, rattled and screamed.
If I hadn’t been in some stranger’s car, I would have screamed for real.
I might still have if the unsuspecting Uber car hadn’t pulled up in front of my house then.
I handed the young man a five and got out hauling my bag behind me.
There were no cars in the driveway. Not even mine.
Damn it to hell. I was stuck home until my car was fixed.
Double dam. My car was in Maine at some garage and Max had the number.
After I went in the empty split level, hauling my bag to my bedroom, I collapsed on my four-poster princess bed, the one I’d slept in since I was twelve years old, and called Max.
No answer. Of course not. He had spring camp practice.
It was starting today. I knew that. Hell.
I sent him a text asking him to call me when he heard about my car.
The ringing phone woke me from a nap and when I checked my phone, seeing it was Max, I woke fully and answered.
“I got a text from the auto shop,” he said. “Your car’s good to go now. I’ll take you to Maine to pick it up as soon as I get showered.” His voice sounded low and I could hear some noise in the background.
“Wait—you’re in the locker room? At the stadium?”
“Yeah. Give me your address.”
I rattled it off and he ended the call before I could thank him or tell him I wanted to see him, wanted to see where our relationship went.
I’d need to deal with the babies or no babies question later, sometime in the future when it made sense to tackle it.
I don’t know when or how I’d decided that, but it felt firm and pain free. I checked the time on my phone.
“Shit!” I jumped out of my bed. It was past five and everyone in the house would be home—just in time to witness Max coming by to pick me up. How would I possibly explain him without giving myself away? Without telegraphing to everyone who saw me that I was falling head over heels for him?
By the time I managed to dress in some jeans and sneakers and my favorite Militia t-shirt, the house was filled with my family.
Lisa asked about the wedding, dad asked about the coach and my two brothers asked me about Gabriel Wyatt.
I gave them their answers because I didn’t mind their interest. It felt a lot like a welcome home. A lot like love.
Right up until the moment when Max pulled up in front of the house in his fancy sports car. A freaking Austin Healy—a James Bond car for pity’s sake. The man had style. Lisa looked out the window as I ran for the door to get outside before he came in.
“Who’s that?” she said predictably, drawing everyone else to the front door as I opened it and went outside. As soon as my brothers got a glimpse of the car, they were out the door right behind me, mouthing off all kinds of impressed epithets.
When Max got out of the car and came around, I knew my escape was in danger. Sure enough, my dad and Lisa came outside.
“Max Devon?” Dad said.
Max nodded and met us on the front walk, which admittedly was a short one in our postage stamp sized front yard. Max shook his hand with a polite smile and I did the introduction, explaining that we’d met at the wedding and about my car.
“That’s awfully sweet of you to give Natalie a ride all the way up to Maine—“
“It’s completely unnecessary,” Dad said. “I can give her a ride.”
“I want to, sir, necessary or not.”
I gave Max a sideways glance. It was a bold admission even though I’d suspected it was the case. To tell my dad was a whole other thing.
Dad nodded, stared him down. Max, who was only a dozen years younger than dad, remained undaunted.
He had that same genuine easy smile hovering as if he had nothing to hide.
But man-oh-man did we have something to hide.
Dad would not appreciate knowing we’d spent the night together in Max’s bed.
Feeling heat rise to my face as the two men took each other’s measure, I hoped to hell my blush wasn’t noticeable.
But when Lisa touched my arm and gave me an understanding, almost motherly smile, I knew I’d been read like a book.
“Do you mind if I ask exactly what your intentions are to my daughter?”
I gasped in morbid embarrassment. Even Lisa took my side in embarrassed horror, putting two hands on Dad’s arm and whispering his name in a plea to walk it back.
Max was apparently immune to awkward questions and the otherwise universally embarrassing call-out my father had dished.
There was no sign of outrage, not even slight annoyance, nothing but a small quirk of his mouth in his otherwise serious demeanor.
“Strictly honorable intentions, sir. No need to worry about me.”
Lisa giggled.
“Any chance we can get tickets to a game?” My youngest brother asked, adding to my embarrassment.
“A One hundred percent chance,” Max said. “I’ll send you tickets to the first game of the season. Five of them so you can all go.” He turned to me and said, “We should get going. The garage is doing us a favor staying open late until we get there.”
“Let’s go then.” I waved good bye to the fam and when I shut the car door behind me, I breathed a sigh of relief.
“I don’t believe you. You have to be the coolest customer under pressure I’ve ever seen.” Max had been impressive, even for him.
“No big deal.”
“Other than my dad embarrassing the hell out of me, sure. it wasn’t a total disaster. I suppose no tears or bloodshed counts as a win.” My standards for dramatic trauma were very low
He chuckled. “You have a nice family,” Max said. “They obviously care about you.” He put the car in gear and we took off in his vintage Austin Healy.
“Nice car,” I said, feeling the power. It suited him. “You didn’t have to do this, you know. My dad was right.”
“I know.” He slid me a sideways glance. “What I told him was true. For some strange reason, I wanted to see you,” he smirked.
He navigated the traffic circle leading to the highway like a racecar driver and I swayed into him with the force of the high-speed turn.
I could have stopped myself from leaning into is shoulder and chest, but I didn’t try hard.
Like I hadn’t been trying hard to avoid falling for him like a brick, letting my emotions and desires have their way.
There was no fear in it, all excitement. I furrowed my brows, except maybe a hiccup or two of mild trepidation. But I must have been channeling Scarlet O’Hara or Pollyanna, putting aside all the problems for another day and sticking to looking at the positive side only.
“Penny for your thoughts?” he said.
I turned to him. “It’s been a long time since anyone has been willing to pay me for my thoughts.” It was true and it was warming.
“Do I need to up my price?” I laughed and before I could censor myself, I answered him.
“I’m not afraid of having a relationship with you.”
“Maybe you should be,” he said, too quickly, keeping his eyes on the road.
“I don’t know what that means, Max. Spell it out for me. Exactly where do I stand with you?”
He was silent for several beats while the scenery sped by us, my thudding heart got faster and louder until I was afraid she wouldn’t her him if he decided to speak.
“I honestly don’t know, Red. You’re somewhere, but I don’t exactly have a place for a too-young, too sexy woman while I try and share my kids with my ex and figure out what to do at the end of my football career.”
He didn’t say a thing about the long-term issue of no kids in his future because there wasn’t supposed to be anything long term about us, was there?
So I had no right to feel disappointed, did I?
Shoving the uncertainty, the implications of his words for any future us aside, I focused on his words about football. And the end of his career?
“The end of your football career? What are you talking about? The season hasn’t even started.” I felt alarm on his behalf and knew I shouldn’t let myself get distracted by his life when I was trying to figure out my own, trying to figure out what we had, if we had a future.
“This is the last year on my contract and I’ve already defied the odds sticking around this long.
” There was no hesitation in his confession and I saw how he needed to talk about it, get it out there, wondering if he’d shared his worries with anyone else.
I decided probably not, and that I needed to be the one to listen, needed to put aside whatever I was worried about.
“What will you do?”
He chuckled. “You’re too good, Red. Here you are all distressed on my behalf, worried about me and the end of my career while you’re just starting out.”
“I’m… fine. What are you going to do? I bet you’d make a fabulous coach. I’ve seen how you are with the younger players.”
There was another beat of silence.
“You surprise me every time we talk.” He flashed a real smile at me, less worry on his face. “As a matter of fact, I was considering the possibility of coaching.”