Page 55 of Her Football Star Ex

But I managed to find the strength to stand and dug through my dresser until I found a gray T-shirt and black gym shorts for Emerson.

“Here you go,” I said when I stepped back into my bedroom with the clothes in hand. “You can change in here. I’m going to check on Jaxon and a few things before heading to bed.”

“Thank you.” She looked up at me, her eyes appearing turquoise from the tears she’d shed.

After she walked into the bathroom and locked the door behind her, I went down the hall to poke my head in Jaxon’s room.

He was sleeping with his arms wrapped around his stuffed cat. I walked into his room and sat on the edge of his bed. Then gently running my fingers through his short blond curls, I whispered, “I love you, buddy. Sleep well.” Like I did every night. Bending over closer, I kissed him softly on the cheek and said, “Sorry I couldn’t get our family put back together for you.”

And that was when the tears I’d been fighting for the past twenty minutes poured out, refusing to be held in any longer.

* * *

I endedup falling asleep next to Jaxon and woke the next morning to the sounds of him and Emerson chatting happily in the kitchen. I rubbed my neck as I sat up, already regretting falling asleep there. And when I moved again, I was reminded of the beating I’d taken on the field the day before.

Get-Right Day at the stadium was going to be fun today.

But I guess it was fitting. I was emotionally spent from last night. Might as well match it with the soreness in my body.

After a trip to the bathroom, I made my way back down the hall to the kitchen where I found Emerson standing at the stove with her hair pulled up into a high ponytail, my oversized gym shorts cinched about as tight as they could go to fit around her slender waist, and the bottom of my oversized shirt tied in a knot so it didn’t drown her.

She looked up when she noticed me, giving me a tentative smile. “We decided to go ahead and make breakfast burritos,” she said. “I hope that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, it’s just fine,” I said. “I feel like a bad host not cooking for you.”

She stirred the scrambled eggs with peppers and onions. “It’s no problem. Your body needed the rest.”

Apparently.

But to make it look like I wasn’t a completely inept host, I went to the cupboard and pulled out three plates and cups for us, setting them on the kitchen island where Jaxon was already sitting.

“I haven’t gotten around to buying a table yet, so we’ll have to eat here.”

“That’s fine.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I figured that since you’re a minimalist you just didn’t feel like you needed one.”

That was a better excuse than the real reason. So I decided not to correct her.

“Did you know Daddy slept in my bed last night?” Jaxon said excitedly to Emerson.

“I did notice that,” she said, her eyes briefly meeting mine. “You must have a really comfy bed.”

“The comfiest.” Jaxon’s face lit up. Then he turned to look at me with so much concern etched in his brown eyes. “Is that why you were crying? Was you sad your bed isn’t soft like mine?”

Alarm bells went off in my brain.

Had Jaxon just outed me?

“I thought you were sleeping,” I said, noticing how Emerson stopped her stirring when Jaxon mentioned my emotional breakdown from last night that I had hoped to keep private.

Jaxon shrugged. “You waked me up.”

I hadn’t been crying that loudly, had I?

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” I said since there was obviously no saving myself now. “I was just having a hard time last night.”

“But you is all better today, right?” He looked hopeful.

Emerson seemed to busy herself with seasoning the egg mixture with salt and pepper, and I suddenly wished my four-year-old wasn’t quite so observant.

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