Page 20 of Tangled with the Tight End

“Ah….” Gino’s bottom lip pokes out and wobbles as he grips my hand. “Don’t go work. Go play with us.”

My heart drops at the anguish on Gino’s face. “I’ll go with you.” I squeeze his hand. I’m not going to disappoint him. He’s been through enough already.

“Yes!” He swings his arm, causing mine to sway in front of me and then behind me. “Daddy?” He reaches his other hand out and waits.

“Sure thing, slugger.” He grips his hand and winks at him. “Anything for you.”

Football tight ends with adorable three-year-old sons should be illegal.

nine

GABRIEL

Gino beamsas he slips down the slide at Santa’s Closet. The slide comes off the chimney of the miniature house and lands in a pile of foam boxes in the design of brightly colored packages. The playroom has been his favorite activity in the store, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love the shelves of toys and stuffed animals. He’s the same as every other kid in that regard.

“Daddy, watch,” Gino calls out as he runs to the ladder at the other end of the playhouse and climbs the rungs.

“Good job.” Watching his excitement as he encounters every new thing or the same thing twenty times leaves me with the same feelings–pride, love, and regret. I missed so much when he was a baby.

My head was so stuck on football and being the highest-paid tight end. There wasn’t room for anything else. I woke up to work out. I worked out to work out. And followed the same pattern on the way to bed. My entire world was centered around training, video breakdown, ingesting proper nutrients, and practice. Whether it was mid-season or two weeks after the season ended, it never changed.

If I could do it all over again…. I’d do what? That was three years ago when I was busting my ass to get a contract. A player’stime is limited. We’ve got to make bank while we can, to prepare for the future. But for what? If I hadn’t gotten hurt, I’d still have my head focused on one thing. My next contract.

“Norah.” Gino’s eyes dance as he waves at her and flops into the padded boxes.

“I’m watching.” She grins widely at him and returns his greeting.

What in the hell am I going to do with Gino when I get back on the field? All the other guys with kids have wives or significant others who take on that responsibility. I straighten. It doesn’t matter how hard it is. I don’t need Sloane’s help.

“Gino, I’ve got another place for you to see. Are you ready?” Norah walks over to the storage cubby and grabs his boots and coat.

“I ready.” He runs to her at full speed, dodging another little boy on his way, and launches onto her legs.

“Bud, be careful.” I’m over to her before she tumbles to the ground, griping her upper arms and holding her to my side.

“Are you okay?” Her heat instantly curls around me, reminding me again how long it’s been since I’ve had sex. She smells like spicy vanilla. I take in her scent again and hold it in my lungs.

“I’m fine.” She glances up, and my heart thuds. The yearning to wrap both arms around her and kiss those plump lips until her toes curl drums through my veins. Her eyes drop to my lips as if she’s thinking the same thing. “Thank you.”

The moment is broken when she chuckles and shifts her attention to my son. “You pack a punch, slugger.”

“I sorry.” His bottom lip quivers.

As if she senses he’s upset and afraid he’ll get into trouble, she ruffles his hair. “Who knew you were so strong? Have you been eating spinach?”

“No….” He laughs and flexes his biceps as I drop my arm to my side to keep from making the situation more awkward than it already is. “I work out with Daddy.”

“You do a good job.”

Once he is seated on the red bench, which is designed like a sleigh, she helps him put on his boots.

The ease with which they’ve connected with each other makes my heart feel tight. It could be with anyone. It’s not her. I love seeing my son happy and content. The first few weeks when he came to live with me were tense and a clusterfuck.

When he yawns, I grab him under the armpits. “Come here.” I boost him up and settle him on my hip. “I need to bulk up.”

“No, you don’t.” He giggles but relaxes against me.

When he closes his eyes and lays his head on my shoulder on our way to the door, I fight the instinct to lace my fingers through Norah’s. Maybe it’s not anyone. Maybe it’s Norah.

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