Page 119 of The Foul Out

The awareness he displayed in that statement blew me away.

“I know.” He sighed, probably reading into my expression. “I’d like you to put it toward activities for them or things they need. Maybe swim lessons for Sam and some therapies for Piper. Whatever you think. And I’m meeting with my attorney next week. I’ll have him draw something up to end alimony effective seven months ago.”

My heart pounded hard against my breastbone, and my hands shook. “Are you serious?” I wasn’t complaining, an extra fifteen hundred dollars a month would go a long way.

“Yeah. Your boyfriend?—”

“Kyle?”

Jace nodded. “I didn’t know what to make of it at first. You dating some rich athlete. But the guy’s solid. He’s been a huge help.”

“To you?” My mind spun. Kyle had gone over that day, and I knew that Jace had texted him a few times, but Kyle hadn’t said much about it.

“Yeah.” He clasped his hands on the desktop. “He’s given me great suggestions and helped me plan out some ways to make my place more comfortable for Piper. And he got me in touch with a therapist through his organization. Somebody I can talk to about parenting Piper, and even Sam.”

Wow. I was blown away by all of it. By Jace’s total one-eighty and his dealings with Kyle. Though maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised by that last part. It was all totally on point for Kyle.

“The other thing I’ve realized…” He sighed and shifted in his chair. “I owe you a sincere apology. For all the lies.”

I blinked. This couldn’t be real. I must have passed out from the shock of witnessing eighty-year-old sex, and now I was dreaming.

“Harp,” he said, his tone concerned and his light brown brows pulled together.

“I think I misheard you,” I choked out.

He chuckled. “No, you didn’t.”

“For two years, you swore you hadn’t lied.”

He frowned. “I never lied about being fired. But I told you ten lies a day to cover it up. I lied about where I was. I lied about how my day had gone. I lied about what money I was using to pay for things.” He shook his head. “I wish I could say that I had a good reason. That I did it to protect you or take care of you. But I did it for myself. Plain and simple. That made me an utter ass, and you deserve better.”

“I…I—” I was in shock. The words wouldn’t come.

“I don’t expect you to accept my apology. But I wanted you to hear it.” He frowned again, a look full of self-reproach. “And I’d like to try to be a better co-parent.”

I should forgive him, and I should be grateful for the changes he’d been making. But I couldn’t wrap my head around it all. “How are you going to do that?”

“Listen more when you talk about the kids. Remind myself that Piper is going to respond to things in ways I wouldn’t. I’d love your help with it, but you owe me nothing.”

He was right. But I owed my kids the opportunity to have a better relationship with their dad. I’d grown up without a father, and the last thing I wanted for Piper and Sam was to experience the same thing.

I sighed, letting my shoulders relax. “Want to come to dinner on Wednesday? You can see Piper at home, and we can talk more. If it works out, then maybe we can make it a regular thing.”

“I would appreciate that.” He gave me a genuine smile. “And if your boyfriend wants to come, that’s cool too.”

“Kyle and I aren’t…” I fidgeted with the pen on my desk, doing my best to ignore the way my chest pinched. “We ended things.”

“I didn’t see that coming. The guy seemed perfect.” With a sympathetic frown, he stood. “See you Wednesday?”

I nodded, and when he was gone, I unlocked my phone and read Kyle’s last text again.

I’d thought he was perfect too. But he’d lied, just like Jace had.

My brain chirped at that last thought. Because unlike Jace, Kyle had lied for a reason. The issue was that I didn’t know if I could get past it.

As the ballhurtled toward me, I focused on it, and when the time was right, I swung. The bat connected with the leather, sending vibrations up my arms. Then the ball was flying out to left field, just past third base, before it once again tipped foul.

“Still pulling up at the end. Keep the swing even, Bosco,” Coach Wilson barked from behind the fence. “I know the bicep is sore, but you can’t pull up.”

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