Page 37 of The Girl He Loves

From behind the closed doors, Dax says, “No thanks, Buddy. But I appreciate the offer.”

Tyler shrugs as if it's no big deal to him and turns, heading to the kitchen, never bothering to ask why Dax might be in the closet. Maybe to an almost-eight-year-old, this isn’t weird.

I close the bedroom door before I open the closet door. Dax is leaning against the wall, my clothes crushed underneath him. He’s still naked with only one leg in his jeans. A red welt marks his forehead.

“Oh. My. God,” I say. “I’m the worst mother ever.”

“Because you had sex with your kid in the house?”

I nod.

“What does that make moms who sex up their husbands? Are they awful, too?”

“No, they’re married so they’re allowed.”

He rolls his eyes and slides his other leg into his pants. “What are you doing later today?” He gives me that sexy boyish grin of his.

This was too close a call. I can’t have Tyler walking in on me with a man in my bed. Especially one who isn’t going to be around after next week. “We’re done. We’ve maxed out on our one-night stands. You leave at the end of the week so we should just part ways today.”

He tugs his T-shirt on. “That’s a stupid idea.”

“I’m not a pitstop, Dax. I can do one night and walk away. I can’t do five or seven or however many nights, start to get attached, and then have you run off to your NFL life. It’s not just me—there’s Tyler. If you keep coming around and then just disappear, it’ll break his heart.”

“A pit stop is NASCAR. And technically one night could be considered a pit—”

I grunt in frustration, interrupting him. “Fine. I’m not the halftime entertainment.”

He gives me a toothy smile. “You’d be awesome as halftime entertainment. How about a wardrobe malfunction?” He reaches for the belt on my robe and loosens the knot.

I slap at his hand.

“C’mon, babe. Let’s spend this week together. Hang out. We don’t have to have sex. We can if we want, but it’s not mandatory. I’m not going to turn you down. But I’m not gonna stop coming around if you say no sex.”

“It’s hard to keep things no-strings if we get used to you being around.” It’s as close to the truth as I can get. I like having him here. I’m mindful that he’s gonna ride away in a few days, and that’s probably the last time we’ll see him. He’ll get busy and forget all about us.

He steps out of the closet and sits on the edge of my bed, then pulls on his socks. “I know this is gonna be hard to believe, but I could use a friend right now.”

“And I can be a friend.”

“But?” he says, looking up at me.

I sit next to him. “But it’s like we’ve skipped some steps. We’re friends who have sex, yet I know nothing about you or your life now. Only what Bleacher Report tells me.”

He grins. “You looked me up on Bleacher?”

I search his face for something, I don’t know what. All I know is that when I bring up the future, life after this week, he deflects with jokes. “I only looked you up once, after you left so unexpectedly following that call.” Which is not entirely true. I only looked him up once that day. Dax is someone I follow up on periodically.

“Heather, you know how superstitious I am. I don’t want to talk about the call until things are solid. If I share too soon, I might jinx it.”

Caught off guard by the sudden flash of memory regarding Dax’s superstitious nature, I laugh. Of all the things I remembered about Dax, how had I forgotten how superstitious he was? Always tight-lipped until whatever he was sitting on was decided.

No surprise that this was a large part of our breakup. Sure, I understand the need to have all the information before sharing, but I don’t understand making big life decisions that affect others without consulting them.

And now I know the call was about work.

I say, “Remember when you learned The Pioneers were hoping to draft you in the first round? You and your dad sat on that info for a few weeks.”

He nods. “Because there's no way of knowing what's going to happen. Last minute trades to move up in the draft could have affected where I landed. Unless you're going number one, it’s anyone's guess what comes after.”

---