Page 78 of Playing for Keeps
The familiar chime of a text cuts through the air. I reach into my purse and pull out my phone. It’s Wyatt.
Wyatt:You don’t have to go to that viewing alone. I could come with you.
A smile creeps across my face before I can stop it.
Ash catches the change instantly. “That him?”
I nod, still staring at the screen.
She grins, raising her glass. “Whatever this is, Ivy, fake or not, you’ve got it bad.”
I do. But that doesn’t mean I can do anything about it. If I say something and I’ve misread the situation, I risk everything. Our friendship has been years in the making. His family is woven into my life, and I can’t afford to lose that. And then there’s the professional side, selling his current place, finding him something new in Hope Creek. There’s too much on the line to gamble with this. I just need to bury my feelings.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Wyatt
Istare at the ceiling, lying back on the sofa at my parents’ place, one hand behind my head, the other holding my phone against my chest. It’s just after noon, and I know Ivy’s at that other listing, withhim.
My jaw clenches as I picture her walking some guy through a half-renovated house while he pretends to care about driveways and bathroom fittings just for an excuse to spend time with her. The idea sits heavy in my chest.
I have no right to be this worked up. We’re not together. This whole thing was supposed to be an act. That was the deal. But who am I kidding? I’ve never been pretending, not for a second. She just doesn’t know that.
I glance at our message thread and contemplate messaging her, just something casual, just to check in, but I stop myself. I offered to go with her last night, but she turned me down. She was nice about it, but still.
I push off the couch and rake a hand through my hair, pacing the living room like it might burn off the energy coiled tight under my skin. I hate this, feeling frustrated, guessing at what’s going through her head. Wishing I knew if any of this means as much to her as it does to me.
Because it doesn’t feel one-sided. Not when she wore my jersey like it was made for her, and not when she melted into me on the dance floor, like the rest of the world had faded away.
Still, here I am, driving myself crazy while she shows a house to a guy who’d probably give anything to turn the viewing into something more.
I wish I knew how to handle this. On the field, I know exactly what I’m doing. But Ivy? She’s not just a game. She’s the whole damn season, and I don’t want to screw this up.
I check my phone again. Still nothing. No message. No update. I let out a groan and toss it back onto the couch. I should hit the gym, go for a run,somethingto clear my head. But deep down, I know there’s only one thing I want right now, and she’s not here.
“Go throw the ball around with your dad before you pace a hole through my carpet,” Mom calls from the doorway. I sigh, caught out.
She saw the photos just like everyone else. Ivy and me, looking like something we’re not. Or something we’re not supposed to be. Naturally, she asked what was going on. I told her the truth, or at least part of it. That we were pretending, that it was all just to avoid a reality show I never wanted to be a part of. But Mom saw right through the act. She always does. I ended up spilling everything, including the part where Ivy was showing that guy a house today.
She said what I knew she would. Talk to her. I didn’t know if I could. I still don’t know if I can.
“You’re going to drive yourself crazy, Wyatt,” she says, as if reading my mind. “But you won’t stop unless you talk to her.”
I blow out a breath, frustrated. “And say what? What if I read this wrong? She’s basically family, Mom. If she doesn’t feel the same way, I risk ruining everything.”
Mom gives me one of those knowing smiles, the kind that somehow sees straight into your head. “She didn’t look like she was pretending in those photos. I’d bet she feels exactly the way you do.”
“You think so?” I ask, hope creeping into my voice before I can stop it.
She nods. “I do. But you’ll never know unless you ask.”
I wrap my arms around her, gratefully. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll go and find Dad.”
I find Dad out back, pacing the same worn patch of grass where we used to spend hours tossing the ball when I was a kid. This spot holds a lot of memories. Some of my best, in fact. He was always in my corner, and when I got drafted into the NFL, I think it meant just as much to him as it did to me. It’s been a long time since we’ve done this, but it’s always helped clear my head.
“Think you still remember how to throw with your old man?” he jokes, eyebrow raised. “It’s been a while.”
I smirk and wind up, launching the ball like we did this yesterday. It hits him square in the chest.
