Page 4 of Tight End

Yeah, so who does she belong to, jackass? You? Fucking Silas probably knows her name. Do you?

I force my fingers to relax and take a deep breath. Punching my teammate in the mouth over a woman I have no business claiming isn’t going to do me any favors. Jesus. Could this be his kid?

If it is, I’m definitely punching him in the face.

For me. For his wife. For this woman who is way too good for him.

No—there’s no way.

This kid is way too old. He’s got to be at least three or four.

My blood cools, quickly turning to ice as the gears in my brain turn toward an assumption I don’t want to make. I’m completely frozen in place, staring at this woman and her son like I’ve had one too many concussions. But he’s three or four.

Three or four.

Holy fuck.Holy fuck.

Could it be?

No, that couldn’t be a possibility, right?

But he’s freaking three or four.

I’ve never considered myself a mathematician, but I’m counting back the months and—it might be possible. But it was only one night. What are the odds? She was supposed to be getting married the day we met, and I know she wasn’t a virgin. Plus, we used a condom every single time. Condoms I bought myself, so I know they weren’t tampered with.

I was safe. We were safe.

But he’s got to be three or four. If he’s older, it’s good. I’m clear. If he’s closer to three ... If he’s?—

Of course the kid takes that moment to extend his arm, showing me the football that, sure enough, Silas signed, and it pisses me off all over again.

My heart jumps in my throat, and I force myself to swallow, leaning down to meet his eyes. Eyes that I see every fucking day when I look in the mirror. They’re bright blue, but my mom used to say they were the color of the Caribbean Sea on a bright summer day. “You like football?”

He shakes his head, studying me, and I stare at him. I keep my mouth shut for several seconds because if I ask the next question, if he gives me a certain answer, it changes everything.

It may be selfish of me, but I’m not ready for things to change. I’ve worked hard and sacrificed to get to where I am.

Football is my life.

I don’t have time for anything else. Not if I want to be the best, if I want to be better than ... well,him.

But then the kid blinks and I blink. The one girl I can’t seem to forget takes a sharp breath. Is this really happening?

“How old are you, kid?” Time slows down and I can’t move. I can’t do anything until he gives me an answer.

“My name is Oliber.”

I can hear every single beat of my heart, echoing in my ears. “How old are you, Oliver?”

He tucks the football between him and his mom, and holds up three fingers. “Free.”

I force myself to swallow down the emotional storm brewing inside me, trailing my gaze up to her face. Her dark-brown eyes are full of remorse as they meet mine before they tilt down toward the ground.

“I’m sorry. I tried to find you, but I didn’t know how.” Her voice quivers as she clutches Oliver tighter to her. “I went to the bar. A lot. You never came back.”

I hang my head, blowing out a breath. No. I never went back.

I couldn’t imagine going there and not finding the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen in a wedding dress, sitting in my fucking chair. I wanted her body, and more than that, I wanted her smart mouth. She wasn’t like all the women who threw themselves at my feet. They were easy. She wasa challenge, a conquest I wanted to make over and over. There was something about her that drew me in, that captured me under her spell, and there was no way I could go back to the bar where we met and pick up another woman.

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