Page 7 of Tight End

“June? You there?” Poppy hesitantly asks, interrupting my downward spiral.

My justified spiral because—oh, my God. How could I not ask him his name? What is wrong with me? “I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”

“Really, June? Again?” She tsks and I can only imagine the look she’s giving me right now. She might be afraid of our mom, but she has her disappointed looks down pat. “You ran into the man you’ve spent almost four years looking for and didn’t even ask his name. Does his dick have some kind of magic in it or something? I don’t know what I’m going to do with you. Maybe when he comes over, you can ask him who the fuck he is before you jump his bones again.”

“I panicked, okay? I admit, it’s not my finest moment.” With a sigh, I make another turn, stopping at a red light. “And there will be no bone jumping. None.”

“No?”

“Absolutely not. We had one night together four years ago. That’s it. He could be happily married now, but it doesn’t matter. There’s no way I have time to date anyone. I’ve got Mom breathing down my neck about taking the LSAT, I’ve got to start shaking my ass on social media to fill up my yoga classes, and let’s not forget Oliver. Things in my life are complicated enough.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I have full faith you will fill the classes in no time. And you could always tell Mom where to stick the LSAT.”

This time I do roll my eyes. “Mom would take thatrealwell.”

She laughs. Hard. Hard enough I’m thinking calling her was a mistake. Especially as I pull into the apartment parking lot, no closer to figuring out this situation I’ve found myself in. This football player could be here any minute now, and I’m not ready.

What if he doesn’t like Oliver? What if Oliver doesn’t like him?

What if I forget to ask him his freaking name again?

“When is this unnamed football player supposed to be coming over?” Poppy asks as I turn off the car and grab my purse.

“Any minute now.” I pause, clutching my bag to my chest. I’m afraid if I ask her my questions, it’ll put them out in the universe and make them real. But if I don’t, if I keep my concerns to myself, what if that gives them life? “Poppy? What if he doesn’t show? What if he doesn’t want to be a dad?”

“You want my honest opinion?”

“Always.”

“If he doesn’t want to co-parent that beautiful boy of yours, then he can go fuck himself. He’s the one missing out, not you. You don’t need him or his money or his magic dick. You’re a complete badass. I mean it, June.”

Yeah, I hear what she’s saying, but as I help Oliver out of his car seat, the breath stutters in my chest. It’s not about me, it’s about him—this sweet boy who deserves everything good, like two parents who love him with their entire heart.

I can’t imagine someone not wanting to be in his life. I can only hope this football player is willing to step up, because while I can do this on my own, I don’t want Oliver togrow up without a dad. Not when he lives in the same city, when he’s so close.

“Thanks, sis. Still not entirely convinced.” I may not know his name, but I know he’s Oliver’s dad, and if he doesn’t show, it’ll break my heart.

FOUR

Ryan

I stareup at the apartment building for what feels like hours instead of the few minutes that have actually passed. I should get out of my car and go to her place. I should apologize for not being there for the birth of a boy I’m pretty positive is my son. I should do so many things, but I can’t seem to make myself move.

Not when stepping out of this vehicle means facing a reality I’m not sure I’m ready for. Why? The answer is simple. I’m a coward.

Fear keeps me anchored to this car seat, just like fear keeps my eyes moving between her apartment and the road. It would take only a second. One tiny second and I could outrun this for a short time, at least, but it would eventually catch up to me.

Things like this always do.

With a sigh, I hang my head, gripping the steering wheel of my ’67 Shelby Mustang so hard the ridges bite into my fingers.

I’m not ready for my life to change, to have my entireworld turned upside down. My life is dedicated to football, my routine regimented. I get up, run a few miles, have a protein shake, spend most of the day at the stadium either running plays or working out, and watch tape while having a healthy dinner. It’s boring as fuck, but it keeps me playing in Nashville, and if I’m lucky, I’ll be one of the top tight ends in the league this season.

Having a kid, being a dad, will take my regimen and flush it down the toilet. Kids are unpredictable. They make things messy, complicated.

Not to mention, if I’m not focused, I may not be playing here next year, and I don’t want to play anywhere else. I was born in Nashville, and I want to retire in Nashville. The only family I have are here, or rather the only family I acknowledge and give a fuck about. The other half is ... well, that’s not important now.

What’s important is getting out of this car and finding out the truth. Even though I’m terrified of what she’ll say to me, I need to face it head-on.

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