Across the room, someone makes a joke about team bonding, and one of the guys pretends to give a locker room speech. The familiar teasing about the Nashville Rampage starts up. Who’s late to practice, who forgot an anniversary, who cries at dog commercials. It’s ridiculous, warm, and easy.
Landry stands and puffs out his chest, braces his feet apart, and places his hands in his pockets. “Who am I?” he asks.
“Coach!” the guys call out, laughing.
“He’d have your a—butt,” Reid says, wincing, making sure the kids are not paying too much attention to us.
“He would,” Bellamy agrees.
My happy slides into guilt. This is all new and forbidden. I kissed my best friend’s dad, and I can’t tell her. She’d hate me. I can’t tell her, because she would expect me to say I’m sorry and that it was a mistake and that I’m filled with regret. And while some of that is true, I’m also torn, because I wanted that kiss. It’s wrong, and I’m the worst friend on the planet, but the fact remains the same.
I wanted to kiss Will.
Hell, I wanted more, if I’m being honest with myself, but that’s all locked deep inside. In a place inside me that I’ll never open or set free. I’ll take that moment with me to the grave. Just Will and me. I haven’t spoken to him since then, and I know that I need to. I need to make sure he doesn’t tell her about that kiss. My moment of weakness, where I needed to feel his lips on mine as much as I needed oxygen in my lungs.
Taking a deep breath, I vow that I’ll call him later, or maybe text him, but for now, I want to just be in the moment. This moment, the one that somehow, even though I’m not part of the Rampage world, the games, the travel, the spotlight, I don’t feel like an outsider.
Eden catches my eye as Mia presses a sloppy kiss to her cheek. “She’s perfect,” she mouths.
My throat tightens again, but this time it isn’t from fear. It’s from relief and acceptance. Mia will grow up surrounded by this. By people who show up. By men who aren’t afraid to be gentle. By women who lift each other instead of competing against one another. Maybe she won’t remember the nights I cried in the shower so she wouldn’t hear me. Maybe what will stick instead are evenings like this. Laughter, joy, and love.
“Don’t even think about stealing her back,” Foster says when he catches me watching them. “I told you I need practice.”
I shake my head, surprising myself. “She’s good,” I assure him. “And you’re going to be amazing. Both of you will be,” I tell them.
Eden’s eyes grow misty. Foster kisses her cheek, then Mia’s, which has her crawling back into his lap. He grins down at her and makes funny faces, making her laugh. They share a smile, and my heart clenches inside my chest. I want someone to share those moments with. My kiss with Will flashes in my mind, but I push it back. I can’t allow myself to fall for my best friend’s dad.
Thirteen
Will
* * *
The house is quiet, too quiet. I’ve never minded the silence, but tonight, it’s giving me too much time to think about that kiss. It’s been a week since Amanda pressed her lips to mine, and she’s all I’ve been able to think about.
If I’m not thinking about kissing her again, I’m thinking about how to tell my daughter that I kissed her, which leads to thinking about the kiss. It’s a vicious cycle. Nothing says I have to tell her, but if she finds out, I could lose her again, and that’s out of the question.
I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place, and I don’t know where to go from here.
As if my mind willed it, my phone rings, and I see Amanda’s name. “Hello.”
“Hey,” she greets softly. “Are you home? I’m leaving Bellamy and Reid’s, and I wanted to see if I could stop by and apologize.”
“Apologize?” I ask. I can hear the hesitation in her tone, and if I’m not mistaken, a little bit of worry and regret.
“Yeah.” She sighs. “For my actions last weekend.”
“I don’t need your apology,” I say, my tone coming out rougher than intended. It pisses me off that she wants to apologize, even though I know it never should have happened. It might have been a one-time thing, but it meant something to me.
Did it not to her?
Probably not. I’m just her best friend’s dad. I was there. Convenient.
Anger and disappointment roll through me, but I swallow them both down.
“Please don’t be mad at me,” she says, her voice cracking.
My heart clenches. “How close are you?” I ask her.