Page 5 of Her Football Star Ex

“Uh-huh.” He put his little hand in mine and looked at me with a big smile on his face. “I bet she’s going to be so excited to see me.”

“I bet she is.” I chuckled lightly, loving the enthusiasm Jaxon always had about him. “I bet she’s been missing you the whole time you were with me.”

I knew I missed him whenever he was with Emerson.

Missed both of them if I was being honest.

But I would just keep that information to myself.

We walked up the path to the two-story Craftsman-style home Emerson and I had custom built a few years ago, and I couldn’t help but feel the twinge of remorse that came every time I dropped Jaxon off.

This beautiful home had once been a place of peace and love for our family—the place I could come to after a long practice or game. But now it was just a reminder of all the dreams and plans Emerson and I used to have for a future that would never happen now.

Jaxon and I stepped onto the front porch, and I was just about to knock on the door when Jaxon pulled on the handle and opened it.

“Mom!” Jaxon called in a loud voice as he stepped into the entryway. “I’m back.”

“Hold on, bud,” I said when he was about to stomp right into the main part of the house with his wet snow boots. “You need to take off your boots before you go walking on your mom’s nice, clean floors.”

I didn’t need Emerson complaining about me not respecting the rules she’d set up forherhouse since I’d moved out.

Even though she argued all day in court, that girl was never too tired for a fight if I gave her the right ammunition.

Jaxon seemed to remember how serious his mom’s no-shoes-in-the-house rule was because he stopped in his tracks and went to sit on the bench next to the entryway closet and took off his boots, letting them drop onto the rug.

When it looked like he was just going to leave them there, I crossed my arms. “Is that where your shoes are supposed to go?”

Jaxon’s shoulders dropped, sighed like I imagined a teenager would, and said in the sassiest tone I’d ever heard from him, “I was going to put them away.”

“I was just making sure.” I raised an eyebrow. “It looked like you were leaving the room.”

Jaxon could be the sweetest and most polite four-year-old in the world, but either he was hitting puberty about nine years too early or his preschool teacher’s teenage daughter had been helping out after school again, because he was definitely picking up this new attitude from somewhere.

He jumped off the bench and opened the closet where he and Emerson kept their shoes and dropped his boots into a basket.

“Good job, buddy,” I said, when he closed the door.

He smiled up at me, the sass from a second ago already gone from his face. “Now you can come see my dinosaurs.”

I looked around the entryway and down the hall, wondering where Emerson was. She usually came right to the door when Jaxon got home.

“Maybe I should go make sure your mom is home first and see if she’s okay with it,” I said. Even though I usually came into the entryway, and sometimes even into the living room when I dropped off Jaxon, I hadn’t gone upstairs in this house since the day Emerson packed my bags for me and kicked me out.

Which had happened just over a year ago.

If I was to just make myself at home again and head upstairs without Emerson’s permission, I’d most likely get an earful about how it wasn’t my home anymore and I shouldn’t act like it was.

But Jaxon must not have heard me because he called, “I’ll race you to my room,” before disappearing down the hall and up the staircase. So I quickly slipped off my shoes and started after him.

The music from Emerson’s favorite singer, Incognito, grew louder the closer I got to the center of the house. And when I reached the end of the hall and peeked my head around the corner, I found my ex-wife sitting on the tufted cream couch in the living room with her arm extended above her like she was taking a selfie with her phone.

“Um, hi,” I said, clearing my throat to get her attention.

She must have really been in the zone with her pose, because at the sound of my voice, she startled and dropped her phone onto the couch cushion.

“Vincent!” Her hand went to her chest as she turned in my direction. “H-how long have you been standing there?”

“I just walked in.” I slipped my hands into the pockets of my joggers. “We weren’t sure if you were home.”

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