Page 26 of Tight End

Not that it really matters anyway. I’ve got way too much going on to add a relationship into the mix.

So I take a deep breath and step out of his orbit, watching his hand fall back to his side. He’s still watching me, and I’d give anything to know what he’s thinking, to know if his insides are being torn in half like mine. But I don’t ask—knowing would only make it worse. “Either way, I appreciate it. I’m sure his room is fantastic.”

Ryan gestures down the hall at the same time something crashes to the ground and possibly breaks into small pieces. Fuuuudge. We’re already messing up his place.

I’m off like a shot but stop as soon as I step into Oliver’s room. He’s surrounded by a sea of large Lego blocks, usingthe stuffed T. rex Ryan gave him to trample a few small stacks and send them flying.

Ryan said this room was a mess, but the only one I’m seeing is the one our son made. Aside from a few boxes stacked in the corner of the room, everything else is immaculate. Heck, it’s perfect. Everything from the dinosaur bedding to the bedside lamp with little dinos running around the shade to the cabin-looking tent on the other side of the room seems like it was picked out with Oliver in mind.

My throat constricts and my eyes brim with tears. There’s already a bookshelf filled with books. He’s thought of everything.

I take care of what’s mine. His words echo around my head as a tear slips down my cheek.

This is real. There’s no turning back for any of us.

“Mom! This room is so awesome.” Oliver makes his way over to the tent, opening the front flap and holding it so we can see inside. “We don’t have anyfing like this at home.”

“I hope you like it.” Ryan is behind me, and as his hand strokes down the center of my back, the breath stutters in my lungs.

He’s talking to Oliver. He’s talking to his son whom this room is for, not you. He doesn’t care what you think.

“Is it really for me?”

“Of course, little man.” Ryan’s response is automatic. “You can even bring in some blankets and sleep in there if you want. I bet those twinkle lights look amazing at night.”

“Is fis because our house is under water?” Oliver clutches the dino to his chest, his wide eyes going between us.

Ryan’s hand flexes at my lower back before his touch falls away. I turn, giving him a quick glance, and his eyes are gluedto mine, his face stricken. “What do I say?” he whispers, leaning toward me. “Do I tell him the truth?”

I was nervous about this moment, scared of the change it could bring to my life, to Oliver’s, but when Ryan looks at me, it all goes away. “I think it’s a perfect time to tell him. He loves his room, and he’s going to love you too.”

ELEVEN

Ryan

Holy fuck.It’s go time.

You can do this, Devlin. This is what you’ve been waiting for. Put on your game face and tell your kid you’re his dad.

After giving June a quick nod, I’m striding across the room and sit on the floor in front of Oliver. My heart is racing a hundred miles a minute, and beads of sweat are already dripping down the back of my neck. The bottom of my stomach drops out, and all words and coherent thoughts vacate my brain.

This is nothing like football. No preparation that can make this easier.

Can a three-year-old be scarred for life? Asking for a friend. One of us might need therapy after this. Probably me.

“You’ll always have a place to stay here.” Not sure why that’s the first thing out of my mouth, but it is. I’m already screwing this whole thing up, but in my defense, I’ve never had to tell a kid I’m his dad before. I don’t know what the etiquette is here. I should have looked to see if there was somekind of book about this—a “telling your kid you exist for dummies”–type thing.

Oliver tilts his head, his gaze moving around the room, and when his eyes come back to mine, his little nose scrunches. “Why?”

Oh, good, I’m confusing him. This is going so well.

Deep breath in. Exhale. Deep breath in. “I’m your dad, Oli. I hope that’s okay.”

And if it’s not, please keep it to yourself. Fuck me. I’m really winning today. At least the room looks amazing.

He stares at me for a few beats, then looks at the T. rex I gave him this morning and back at me. “Really?”

“Yes?” Oli’s face gives nothing away, and I have no idea whether that’s a good question or a bad one. Just like I have no idea why I answer with another question.

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