I brace myself for her usual interrogation and jokes about interrupting us during sex. She thinks her timing is funny.
“So, he told you, then? I mean, this is wild, right? Portland? I couldn’t believe it when Bryce called Whisk, but I mean, it is what he’s wanted. He’s been working so hard. And he’s not that old for a lineman. He has a lot of good years left, and he’s probably in better shape now than he was in college, and?—”
“Wait, Portland . . . as in . . . for football? Tash, that’s amazing!”
I may have missed more of her early conversation than I admit to. Is Whiskey getting his shot with the new expansion team? He’s wanted this for so long, and I could tell when he and Wyatt played in that summer league in Texas how much football was still a part of him. Honestly, it was incredible seeing the two of them on the field again together. I think it meant a lot to Wyatt, too. He says he has no regrets, but I see the way he lingers on the field after practices. He reminds me of my dad when he finally left the game. It’s a bit like grieving.
“Yeah, didn’t Wyatt tell you where? Maybe he’s getting to that.”
I sit up and snag a T-shirt from the floor, slipping it on so I don’t feel like a total hooker walking around the house.
“No, he didn’t tell me about that. He just got home, though, so?—”
“Oh, shoot! Okay, well, pretend I didn’t say anything. He probably wants to tell you himself. So, act surprised. Really sell it.”
“Ohhhh-kayyyy.” My mouth twists into a wry smile because it doesn’t seem like that big of a deal. I mean, yeah, we both love Whiskey, and I’m sure he’s excited to tell me about his friend’s big break. But I don’t know that he cares if Tasha beat him to it.
“We have so much to plan! Do you want to fly out together? We could get a vacation rental again, like Texas. Oh, my God, this is so exciting! The boys are back! NFL wives . . . together!”
My mouth freezes, along with the words caught in my throat. My lips hang open as I work backward from my friend’s last ramblings, unable to catch up in time to respond before she hits me with, “Yeah, call me later. I want to hear all about what Bryce said to Wyatt. I guess the Portland coach was really impressed. Okay, love you!”
My hand falls to my side along with my phone. The shutters are opened to show off the sky across the room, and I stare at the pink clouds that peek through the top few slats. I can’t even blink.
The shower shuts off, and I turn my head just enough to see Wyatt’s form step from the shower as he wraps a towel around his waist. I’m finding it hard to breathe, my mind racing in two polar-opposite directions—wanting to hold on to blissful hope that my husband and I just made a baby, and preparing myself for his big news. I didn’t even know he was trying to make a comeback, that he wanted to give it another shot. And if he leaves, what does that mean for us? For our not-quite-yet-real family? What if we miss our chance?
“What did my favorite friend of yours want?” He steps around me, stopping in front of me as he runs his hands through his wet hair.
“She, uh,” I let out a short laugh, blinking my gaze to meet his. “She said Portland is giving Whiskey a tryout.”
His hands drop to the back of his neck, threading together as his eyes lock on mine. He’s never been able to lie to me. It’s one of the things I love most aboutus. And right now, his eyes are telling me everything—Tasha’s right. Portland wants him, too.
His hands fall to his sides as his chin drops a tick. He chews at the inside of his cheek, his forehead etched with worry lines.
“You already know. And before you question anything, I was going to tell you. I got a little— He waves a hand between us as he chuckles.
“Distracted,” I answer for him.
“Ha, yeah. Just a little.” His gaze drops to the floor, and he lifts his shoulders.
“Do you want this?” My voice sounds more panicked than it should. It’s not fair. I can’t mask it, though.
He shrugs again.
“I don’t know. Honestly? Right now, I wish Bryce had never shown up, and that I never agreed to play in that summer league with Whisk. But it’s too late to undo any of that, so I guess . . .”
“You guess . . .”
His eyes snap back to mine, and for the first time since we were kids and he was trying to find his way as the new kid in town, Wyatt Stone looks lost.
He moves toward me, stepping between my knees and wrapping his arms around my head, hugging me with my cheek against his stomach. His head falls forward enough for him to press his lips to the crown of my hair, and long, weighted breaths fill his lungs and stay there.
“Tell me what to do, Peyt? Cuz I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
Chapter Three
It’s times like these when I really miss my dad. I didn’t inherit his decision-making skills. He was decisive, confident, somehow always right, yet never an asshole about it.
That’s one of my favorite qualities about Peyton. It’s a piece of my father that I see alive in her, like a gift he sent me—someone who knows what they want out of life. But she can’t help me with this. And really, even if my father were here, he wouldn’t be able to make the choice for me, either. He’d guide me, but ultimately, the path I drive in this life comes down to me.