Page 123 of Kiss Me Tonight

The words are on the tip of my tongue, ready to fly, when I spot the boys watching the three of us. Timmy has his shoulder pressed up against Topher’s in silent camaraderie. On the other side of Levi’s son are Harry and Bobby. All are sporting serious, flat mouths and hard eyes. All witnessed Clarke brush off his only son.

Just as they all watched Levi unravel the moment her ex-husband showed up.

They might not know who this man is, but they know enough to recognize when things are on a one-lane track to shit creek.

Jesusfuck.

The last thing I want to do is spend any amount of time with Rick Clarke, especially after that nasty comment of his, but this . . . this is what you do for the people you care for, right? You put their best interests before your own. You take the hurt and the frustration and bear it so they don’t have to.

Purposely, I turn to Levi and subtly brush my fingers over her knuckles. “Aspen, wrap up practice, will you?”

Her eyes promise murder if I go with her ex-husband.

Better me than her. I don’t trust the asshole farther than I can throw him—which says a lot because I played both tight end and quarterback at LSU. Brien hated that I was his backup. I always did love to needle him and pretend I’d steal his position.

“Aspen.”

She jerks away, her body poised to strike. “Sure, yeah. I can do that,Coach.” Storming away, she hollers to the guys to strip off their flag belts and prepare for conditioning.

Pissed or not, hopefully she’ll realize I’m subjecting myself to Rick’s company so she won’t have to. Because she needs to bring Topher home and comfort him after his dad’s stinging rejection.

Clarke, cold as stone, raises a single brow as he watches his ex-wife with an inscrutable expression. I want to sling back an arm and knock him out cold. Instead, I shove his shoulder with mine, locker-room style, and head for the parking lot. I don’t say a word.

He wanted a beer? Fine.

But that doesn’t mean we have to do a damn bit of talking—and it sure as hell doesn’t mean I can’t take him behind a bar and bust his face in.

37

Aspen

“Ihate him!”

I barely get my front door closed before Topher erupts, throwing his duffel bag on the floor with unleashed anger.

I hate him too. More than you’ll ever know.

I keep the words locked up inside myself, the way I’ve done for years now. I’ve never wanted to be the mother who talks poorly about her ex-husband. No, I want Topher to make his own decisions and come to his own way of thinking, but with Rick cold-shouldering him on the field . . . I feel the embarrassment radiating off my son in waves.

“Baby,” I murmur softly, pointing to the couch, “come sit down. Please.”

Topher’s shoulders hunch forward. “You don’t understand. Youdon’t get it!”

My heart splinters as I watch him pace the living room like a caged animal. All his life, Topher has been the gentlest soul. He doesn’t yell and he rarely throws tantrums, even when I ground him for pulling stupid stunts, but this . . . this bottled-up rage. This isn’thim.

“I need you to make me understand, Toph.” I sit first, hoping it’ll convince him to follow my lead. I pat the cushion beside me. “Make me see.”

Although he doesn’t sit, he swarms into the living room with his hands clamped behind his dark head, arms bent like chicken wings. Then, on a short, pentup breath, he exhales, “Dad asked me to stay with him.”

My world goes dark.

Just like that, the living room tips sideways and I grip the couch cushion, like it might somehow keep me upright, and I blink back the sudden onslaught of tears.Don’t cry in front of him, girl. Keep yourself together!

Easier said than done.

I know that mothers are separated from their children every day.

I know that—and I know that Rick, deep down, must miss his only son, but I . . . I—

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