Page 82 of Second Chance Player

“Patty, you know I love you, but you should be doing something else with your Saturday nights. Go out and have fun with your single friends,” I urge. She is twenty-eight years old, beautiful, and single in a city with lots of things to do and people to meet.

“I’m good,” she confirms. Sometimes I think she’s hiding something from me. There must be a reason she avoids relationships like the plague.

“Fine,” I say with resignation.

“I told Rebel I’m in, but I said I had to check with you,” she says. That solves my problem of getting to Manhattan and back. I’m also sure Crew would love to have a sleepover with little Liam.

“I’m in too,” I say. The guys are out of town. They played in Florida earlier this week and then went to Chicago.

“Okay, I’ll go freshen up,” Patty says.

I finish my exercises and stand. My ankle still gives me a bit of trouble, but the X-rays showed everything was healed, so I’m thanking my lucky stars.

“Crew, I have something to tell you,” I call out.

I find him playing with his Lego on the floor of our bedroom.

My son is slowly growing more and more attached to Liam, and it scares the hell out of me. I know Liam said he’s in this relationship for keeps, but life has a way of happening. What if Carter finds out we’re together? I hate living my life scared of Carter, but I also love my son, and I wouldn’t want Carter to be an influence in my boy’s life.

“Look what I made, Mommy. It’s just like the one Liam made,” he beams.

“That’s super cool,” I say to Crew. “We’re invited over to little Liam’s house for dinner tonight, and he wanted you to have a sleepover after. What do you think?”

My son’s blue eyes turn radiant. “Really? We can go to his house?”

“Yes.” I nod.

Then Crew gets up and starts throwing his Lego into a plastic bin. After that, he’s searching inside our closet. “Where’s my backpack? I have to pack,” he says urgently.

His excitement is adorable. I love he has a friend he can hang out with and have sleepovers with. It’s how I always pictured his childhood would be since my own was anything but stable.

It doesn’t take long for us to pack up. When we reach Patty’s car, she says, “Think fast.” She throws me her keys. “You drive.”

“I’m really not comfortable,” I protest.

“Come on. I’m right beside you. I can give you instruction, and you need to learn at some point. Taking public transportation isn’t always time efficient.”

She has many solid points. “Fine,” I agree. I make sure Crew is buckled in. Then I get in the driver’s side and adjust the mirrors. I blow out a harsh breath.

“The more you drive, the less nerve-racking it’ll be,” Patty states.

“I know you’re right, but I’m terrified of driving with you-know-who in the car. If I did something wrong. . .”

“Hey.” Patty places a hand on my shoulder. I had similar anxieties after Crew was born. Would I do something wrong, and he would get hurt? I slowly had to get over it, and Patty was there for me every step of the way with words of encouragement.

“I got this,” I say more to myself. It’s one of the things I learned from the self-help books I read after Crew was born. I need to believe in myself before anyone else would.

Backing out of the parking garage has me sweating because if I do something to Patty’s expensive car, I will feel awful. When we leave the garage all in one piece, I exhale.

This is fine.

I got this.

I take a quick peek at Crew in the rearview mirror, and he looks up and smiles at me at the same moment.

“And we’re off,” I say.

“I’m so excited. Little Liam has such a fun house. His basement is filled with so many toys. He has this motor truck I can drive. Last time I was there, I drove it into the wall,” he informs us.

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