Page 13 of The One I Want
“I don’t need my kids trading stocks at recess.”
“You know what I mean,” he continues. “Move back to Rolling Hills. You have no one in Nashville besides your teammates. Down here you have free childcare, friends who miss the hell out of you, and a support system that is unmatched.”
“I can’t,” I say, though not really thinking about it. “Remember, I’m still playing football. I can’t just up and move.”
“I timed it, it will take you an hour, even in traffic, to get to the Fury facilities. It’s not ideal, but your kids will be safe and with family—blood and extended.”
“Okay, fine. But what about school? I can’t rip the kids out of school halfway through the year.”
“Oh but you can,” he says. “Yes, you need to talk to them first and make sure they know what’s going on. But you see, as a teacher, I know for a fact that kids enroll in new schools at all times of the year. And, if the kids are in school here, I can look out for them. I’ll be their own personal tour guide and make sure they get settled in.”
I open my mouth to give another rebuttal, but I can’t think of anything. If I was going to send my kids to any school, it would be in Rolling Hills. One, I know they have a great school system. Oliver teaching there is a bonus. Two, yes, the commute wouldn’t be ideal, but hell, it’s Nashville. Sometimes it takes an hour just to get four miles. And it’s only for a few more months. Even if we make the playoffs—I don’t say ‘when’ because I don’t want to jinx anything, despite the fact we have the best record in the league so far—that is three months, tops.
“That sounds great and all,” I say, still trying to work this out in my head. “But where would I live? It’s not exactly like the real estate market down there is booming.”
“Funny you should ask that,” Oliver says. “Check your email.”
I put him on speaker and navigate to the email app on my phone. I open it and the first name I see in my inbox is from Simon Banks Real Estate.
“Really?” I say, clicking the email. “You talked to Simon already about this?”
“He happened to mention he got a new listing. He also might have mentioned that it’s a five-bedroom house, with an in-ground pool and hot tub, that’s two miles from your parents.”
“Why do I feel like there’s more to the story?”
“You don’t need to worry about that part,” Oliver says. “Just look at it. Think about it. Talk it over with your parents and the kids. But I think this could be exactly what you guys need.”
We say our goodbyes, and I toss the phone down on the bed. I need to FaceTime the kids before bed, but I need a second to process all of what Oliver just suggested.
If we were going to move, now would be the time. Maybe do it around Thanksgiving? I’d have to talk to my lawyer about selling the house, in terms of assets, but frankly, I would be fine to get out of there. This house is all Cara, from choosing it to every piece of furniture and trinket. It was my home because it was where my family was. But it’s a lot of house, and I know for damn sure I would need to hire a housekeeper, on top of a nanny, if we were to stay there.
I let the thought of living in Rolling Hills sink in. It’s funny because that’s what Cara assumed I wanted. I swear I had never thought of it before now. But being back in the town I grew up would have its perks.
There’s my family, who I know would not only help but would support us with anything. There are my friends, who it would be nice to see more than the few times a year I get down there, despite it only being an hour away. It would be nice to have a drink at The Joint and just relax. Or take the kids for breakfast at Mona’s Diner on a Saturday morning.
I don’t know why, but a thought of a certain blonde-haired beauty flashes in my mind. But I squash that feeling down quickly. I can’t be having thoughts of Betsy. I have my kids to think about. They come first. That’s why I’m moving to Rolling Hills.
I’m moving back to Rolling Hills.
I feel the smile forming on my face. Yes, it feels weird because I haven’t smiled much recently. But it doesn’t feel forced or fake. No, it feels right.
Rolling Hills feels right.
Chapter6
Betsy
I really didn’t knowI could love something as much as I love my front porch.
This has become my every night routine. After the day is over, and I’m winding down for the night, I pour myself a glass of wine and just come out here and sit. Sometimes I read. Sometimes I scroll through my phone. But most nights I just relax and let the crisp air of fall in Tennessee and the sounds of a small town relax me.
It’s perfect.
“Hank! You threw it too far!”
I look over to my left and see Magnolia running to my yard to get what looks like to be a neon ball of some sort. I’m glad I turned my porch light on, which gives her some light to see where she’s going.
“Hi, Miss Betsy!” she says, grabbing the ball and running to my porch steps.
