Page 26 of Single Dad Dilemma
From the opposite side of the island, I watched them do a video call with their dad. The kids chattered happily, telling him about school and what homework they had. Bryce showed him a close-up view of the cookies, and I fought a smirk over the fact that Barrett might go his entire life never tasting my baked goods. After about fifteen minutes, they hung up, eyes already wandering to the rest of the cookies.
Bryce had chocolate in the corners of his mouth, but all it took was one pleading expression and I let him have a third. Maggie too. While they finished those, I poured them both a glass of cold milk.
“Feel better?” I asked when Maggie patted her belly. She nodded, then let out a contented hum.
Bryce burped, then gave me a panicked look. “Sorry.”
“I told you to stop at two,” I sighed. “The youths never listen, do they?”
The kids laughed.
Bryce called for Larry, then paused at the slider. “Can I take him outside?”
“Larry doesn’t really play,” I warned him. “But yes, use that green leash by the door. Put your coat on, though; it’s cold.”
He groaned. “I’m wearing a sweatshirt. I’m fine.”
“Coat,” I instructed. When he begrudgingly did as I asked, I gave Maggie a look. “That’s the sort of responsible-adult thing I’m supposed to say, right?”
His sister grinned. “Yeah.”
I made a swiping motion across my forehead. “Whew.”
She gave me a shy look, then flung herself against my midriff, wrapping her arms tightly around my middle. “Thank you for saying yes,” she said.
“You’re welcome,” I answered, almost unbearably touched. That pesky feeling stuck in my throat, unwilling to be pushed down with a firm swallow.
Maggie didn’t make eye contact when she pulled away, just darted off to dig something out of her backpack. From the front pocket, she extracted an envelope, and once it was in my hand, my stomach flipped at the sight of my name in blocky masculine handwriting.
“My dad wanted me to give you this,” she said. “Can I go outside with Bryce?”
I nodded absently, my thumb running over the edge of the envelope. “Don’t forget your coat.”
When Maggie was out of the room, I took a seat at the island and tucked my thumb under the edge of the flap, pulling it across to tear open the envelope.
Inside was a piece of paper with the football team’s logo.
Barrett King, Head Coach.
God, he was so official. This job of his told me a whole hell of a lot.
Competitive. Organized. Demanding. Intensely focused.
It made a whole lot of sense after my two interactions. I tried to imagine him giving a motivational speech, and snorted.
Don’t lose, because I said so. Growl, growl, look at my hard jaw and scary dark eyes.
He’d cross his big, muscly arms and glare around the room, and do it so effectively that all the overgrown man-children playing ball would do his bidding out of fear for what would happen if they didn’t.
But I had to admit, he clearly loved his kids, because there was no fucking way he would’ve asked me to help out otherwise. With his list of rules clutched in my hand, I watched them try to play with Larry, a smile tugging at my lips when the dog did nothing but sit down and stare up at Bryce. He laughed loudly enough that I could hear him through the closed slider.
They’ll be hard to leave,a little voice whispered. My eyes felt a little gritty, and I blinked repeatedly.
Eventually, I’d move on from this place. I always did.
As the years passed, it got a little harder, a little bit more tiring. Each time I packed my bags, I had a lingering sense of disquiet, an insistence I wasn’t quite ready to heed that said I should stop.
That I should find a place that feels like home and allow myself the freedom to stay.
