I don’t add that I didn’t do it for fun money or new clothes. Every extra dollar went toward bills, groceries, mortgage. The memory tightens my stomach like a knot. Even now, I still send money home every month. It’s what you do when someone spends their life making sure you have one worth living.
But sometimes, on nights like this when everything feels light and simple, I wonder what it would be like not to have that weight on my shoulders. To keep my paycheck, my time, my choices. To stay home, even. To want that.
Jaxon must sense the tangle of thoughts in my head. His hand finds mine across the console, fingers curling around my palm with quiet certainty.
“Everything okay?” he asks. A sound catches in my throat before I manage a small nod. “Did what Jay said about family upset you?”
“How will she do it, Jaxon?” I ask, staring out the window at the passing streetlights. “If Penn’s on the road all the time, she’s basically a single mom.”
The words slip out, weighted with a truth I haven’t said aloud before. Single mom. Like mine. Everything my mother warned me about. Everything she resented.
“They’ll hire a nanny,” he says gently.
“But you saw how hard that is for Gina. I mean, if it were me…” I trail off, shaking my head. “I wouldn’t want just anyone watching my child. You’ve seen The Hand That Rocks the Cradle, right?”
He grins. “Creepiest movie ever. But look, you also saw what happens in real life. Everyone helps out. It’s a team effort. When you marry into the family…” He holds up two fingers and lowers his voice into a terrible Godfather impression. “You’re part of the family.”
I laugh. “Wow. That was awful. Don’t quit your day job.”
“I won’t,” he says, smiling, but there’s something in his tone, something that makes my pulse skip. “Not as long as I still love it.”
Our eyes meet, and the air in the car feels heavier. I can’t help but wonder if he can read my thoughts—the ones I never speak aloud. The ones about how tired I am of the grind, of hustling and proving and pretending I don’t want something… else.
Sometimes I picture a quieter life. A house that smells like fresh bread and crayons. School drop-offs, lunchboxes, messy kitchens, bedtime stories. The kind of chaos you choose. And yet, even imagining it feels like betrayal—to my mother, the woman who raised me to work outside the home.
Why is it that women judge each other no matter what path we take? Career women called cold. Stay-at-home moms called lazy. As if we’re all not just trying to do the best we can with the pieces we’ve been given.
Then again, maybe there’s something different about this world Jaxon lives in. The WAGs don’t seem to judge—they seem to show up for each other. Maybe that’s the trick. Maybe family isn’t about blood or labels. Maybe it’s about having people who catch you when you can’t do it all.
And maybe—for the first time—I want to believe I could have that too.
But why am I even thinking like this? I’m not in a relationship, and being a stay-at-home mom isn’t exactly on my horizon. Jaxon doesn’t want a family. He’s relationship-shy, guarded, distant in ways I’ve seen firsthand. And it’s not like I’m imagining a future with him. Not really.
Why is it so hard to convince myself of that?
“Oh, I have a key for you,” he says as he pulls into his driveway, which isn’t far from Jaylynn’s. I love that so many of the guys live close. It makes everything feel smaller, warmer. “That way you can come and go as you please.” That’s when his words really register with me, and the gesture hits in an unexpected way. “When I’m away, you’re welcome to stay here if you like. I know it’s not as close to Golden Grinds, but you can… spread out.”
I laugh, trying to keep the nervous flutter under control. “If you keep feeding me all those delicious muffins and I keep eating big meals at your friends’ places, I’ll need the room to… expand.” I pat my stomach playfully, but he stays serious, just watching me.
“They’re your friends too, Row,” he reminds me, his voice low, almost intimate.
I unbuckle my seatbelt and take in his house—the big, cozy windows glowing in the evening light, the kind of place that promises warmth and quiet and… stability. “You really don’t mind me staying?”
“Not at all,” he says, flashing a grin that’s half mischief, half something I can’t name. “But there’s a catch.”
I laugh. “Oh, more quid pro quo? Does this involve me needing to buy more… additions for the collection you’re starting?”
“Damn,” he says, tapping the steering wheel. “I never thought of that. Okay… yes,” he admits with a smirk. “But chatting with you after a day on the road, or after a game, that would be nice.” He shrugs like it’s nothing, casual and effortless. “The guys all hurry back to their rooms,” he quickly explains. “I think if we’re pretending to be a couple, we have to do that too.”
My heart stutters, and I catch the longing in his eyes, a vulnerability that he’s never shown anyone else. Part of me wonders if it’s just for the act, the ruse, the show. Or is it something real, some unspoken emptiness that I could actually touch? I know Ember left scars, and that he isn’t looking for anything serious, yet I sense a part of him craving something he’s too afraid to name.
Am I the one who could give it to him? Or are these just dangerous, wishful thoughts creeping into the cracks of our friendship? My chest tightens at the idea that any step forward could shatter what we already have.
“You mean sexy talk?” I ask.
He nods, and I get the sense that he’s seeking more than that, but I’m sure I’m imagining things, right?
“I can do that,” I say quietly, testing the waters. “You know… for the ruse.”