Page 49 of Offside Devil

Tears prick the backs of my eyes and I have to blink them back so he doesn’t think I’m a psycho.

“Oh my gosh, it is me!” I loop my arm around his waist and snuggle him close. “I love it, buddy. Do I get to keep it?”

Aiden nods his head and grins up at me, so proud of himself.

He looks like Zane. Aiden’s hair is a brighter blonde and his blue eyes are pale, more like sea glass. But they have the exact same smile.

Not that I’d know what Zane’s smile looks like in real life these days. But in the hockey highlight video that I may or may not have bookmarked on my laptop, he smiles exactly like his son.

Aiden and I color at the kitchen island before we snuggle on the couch with a big stack of books. I try to convince him to lie down for a nap after lunch, but Aiden buries his face in my neck and clings to my shoulders.

Things spiral from there.

I would put big money on Aiden being the sweetest kid in the world—a real-life angel in the flesh—until he goes too long without a nap. As the afternoon drags on, every little thing sets him off.

I peel his banana all the way instead of peeling it halfway and letting him finish the rest? Temper tantrum.

I leave the room for three minutes to go to the bathroom? An hour-long weep fest.

He colors a dog blue and then finds a maroon crayon he wishes he’d used instead? Someone alert UNICEF. We have a child in crisis.

When he finally falls asleep in the late afternoon after burying himself in a nest of blankets in the hall closet, I dim the lights and thank my lucky stars.

Aiden is still zonked out an hour later when Zane unlocks the front door. His hair is damp from his post-practice shower and his cheeks are still red.

He must like his showers hot like I do, I think before I can stop myself. I wonder if that blush extends all the way to?—

I pull my eyes away from his face and make the mistake of dragging them all the way down his body. Over his short-sleeve button-down that’s open at the collar, revealing a hint of golden blonde chest hair. Down his muscular legs that might actually be doing his forest green chinos a favor. Those pants have never looked this good on another human body, I’m sure. It’s like they were made for him.

I know I’ve been sexless for a long time and single for even longer, but I can suddenly see the appeal of having someone walk through the door at the end of every day. Someone to talk to, make dinner with, fall asleep with.

Especially if that someone came home looking like this.

I blink out of my stupor in time to see Zane glance my direction for all of point-five seconds before he settles his gaze literally anywhere else. “Where’s Aiden?”

I lick my lips. My mouth feels dry all of a sudden. “He’s napping.”

Zane turns back to me slowly, eyes narrowing. “It’s supposed to be my time with him now.”

“He wouldn’t nap earlier, so he was exhausted all afternoon. It was a warzone here. When he crashed an hour ago, I figured it was better to let him sleep.”

“He’s not supposed to be napping now,” he grits out.

I blink at him and play back the last few seconds in my mind. No, I definitely explained myself. Enough that Zane shouldn’t be glaring at me like I just confessed to dosing his kid with Ambien.

“I know,” I emphasize, fighting back a tremble in my voice. “But he didn’t nap when he was supposed to. That’s what I just said. Aiden couldn’t sleep and he was grouchy. I figured you’d rather him get a nap in and be in a better mood, even if it meant a little less time with him.”

“You don’t need to ‘figure’ anything when it comes to me,” he snaps. “That’s why I have a fucking cell phone, Mira. So you can call me and ask me about my son.”

This is the first time we’ve talked in days. I thought this is what I wanted, but it's making me miss when he sulked silently through the house and pretended I didn’t exist.

“Oh, do you want to hear from me now? Last I checked, all communication goes through your assistant.”

He frowns. “Hanna handles my admin shit. That includes you.”

If there was even the slightest chance I could’ve forgotten that this relationship between Zane and me isn’t real, that would have been the ice cold bucket of water over the head I needed.

“She gives you a schedule every day. When you deviate from that schedule or do something that affects me, I should know about it,” he growls. “You should have called me.”

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