: Chapter 30

Payton

Now, November

Pulling up in front of the Avix U football house, I put the car in park, my eyes gliding toward the white wooden door.

The last time I walked inside there, Mason led me by the hand.

The last time I walked out of there, it was with tears in my eyes…

“Hey.” Chase leans forward, his soft tone slipping through the memory, and I turn to face him. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, just a long day,” I lie.

“You know you can come in if you want. We’re allowed guests.”

A derisive laugh leaves me before I can stop it, and I nod. “Yeah, I know.”

He nods, and when he opens the door, I climb out, too, meeting him near the hood. “Thanks for lunch.”

He grins. “Thanks for going for sushi with me. No one else will.”

“I mean, I did order a California roll, so it doesn’t really count, but…” I tease, smiling a little when he laughs.

“If you’re up for it, I’m free again tomorrow.”

“Maybe,” I joke. “But if so, I’d say it’s my turn to pick.”

“As long as it’s not pizza. I’m pizza’d out. That’s all everyone seems to get in this house.”

“I’m sure I can be a little more creative than that.”

Chase grins, but that grin falls right off his face, and two point five seconds later, the reason why reveals itself.

A big white Tahoe appears, and then he steps out.

If I could sink into the dirt, I would, but my feet are frozen, my eyes glued to his face, waiting for the moment he looks up.

It only takes a second.

His head lifts, eyes finding mine without effort.

His feet stop moving, his limbs locking in place as a thunderstorm of confusion, concern, and cold hard resentment rolls across his face. He looks…bad. Worn out and pale.

I try not to stew on the fact that no one saw him all night and the fact that his clothes look well worn, as if he’s had them on for longer than today, but the pit of dread in my stomach only grows wider, even if I’m the one who dug the hole to start.

I take a half step forward without meaning to, and it’s like I reached out and touched him. He jolts as if burned, his head falling back, and he looks up at the sky seemingly searching for an answer he desperately needs.

“Mase,” I finally call.

His head snaps forward, and slowly, he heads this way, his eyes not once traveling to his friend beside me. “How long you been here?”

“I—” Shit. “Friday.” I manage to force the word, quickly adding, “I looked for you, but⁠—”

“But you didn’t call.”

In my periphery, I notice Chase looking between us. “I called,” he says. “Ari, too. And Brady.”

Mason just keeps staring right at me. “You didn’t call.”

Up close, the dark circles beneath his eyes are so clear. Too clear. “Where were you?”

“There was someone I needed to talk to.” He faces away, then mumbles, “Not that it made much of a difference.”

Something coils around my spine, a sense of unease sweeping over me that I can’t quite put my finger on. “Mase.” I try again, stepping toward him. Suddenly, I really need to know. “Where did you go?”

“Do you honestly care?” His response is swift and gut-wrenching, as is the glare he throws my way. “Do you care where I went, what I did, who I did it with?”

“Mason,” Chase begins but cuts off when Mason’s gaze pins him with a clear warning.

My lips press together, a familiar burn building behind my eyes.

He looks away, creases forming along his brow. “Where’s my little man?” His eyes pop up to mine, following when I glance at the car, the Embers Elite logo scrawled across the back door.

He swallows, leaning toward it, maybe without realizing. “Can I at least say hi? Or…bye?”

Finally, he looks my way again, and this time, my lips do tremble. But I nod.

Of course I nod.

He doesn’t wait for another second.

He turns, opens the door, and closes himself inside.

Mason

Big blue eyes find mine the second I slip in, and when he smiles, the hint of two tiny teeth beaming back at me, it’s like every bit of tension drains from my body.

My muscles ease, my heart grows full, and I can’t help but smile through a laugh. “Hey, big guy.” I tickle his toes, and he laughs so easily, so loud and fucking adorable, that mine doubles along with it. “Did you get even bigger?” I lift my hand, and he slap his into it, doing it over and over and giggling at the clapping sound. “Yeah, you did. Look at that big ol’ hand.” I grin. “You’ll be palming laces in no time.”

He starts kicking, his lips moving a mile a minute in full-on baby talk.

I can’t help it. I take him from his seat, my eyes springing up when he launches to his feet.

“Dang, boy. You’re strong, aren’t you?”

He claps. “Ma, ma, ma, ma.”

My hands tense a moment, my smile spreading slowly. “You got that one down solid now,” I whisper. “I bet you’re talkin’ like crazy now, huh, Einstein? What else can you say, hmm?”

Suddenly, he whines, arm stretching and pointing over my shoulder.

“What is it?” I spin for a better look, laughing when I find his little plush football. “Did you throw this sucker that far? Sheesh. You must have an arm on you.”

I tickle him with it, and he starts laughing.

“Ball, ball, ball, ball.”

“That’s right.” I can’t stop smiling, even if ball from his little mouth sounds more like “buh” than anything, but it’s obvious what he’s trying to say. “That’s a football.”

“Ball, ball!” He claps, yanking and pressing the plushy to his face and biting on it, two little half teeth sticking out from his lower gums and a couple that look about ready to break through the tops.

My body falls against the seat, suddenly deeply aware of the remarkable, precious little thing in my lap. My little man is growing, more and more every day, and I’m missing it.

The weight of a thousand possibilities, none of which end well for me, falls on my shoulders. I hug him to me, my damn heart skipping a fucking beat when his little tiny palm pats along my shoulder like he knows. Like he’s comforting me the way I should be there to comfort him.

The way I want to be.

“You’re my favorite person in the whole world, you know that?” I whisper, fighting off the sting creeping behind my eyes. “I miss you, Little D. Every day.”

He turns his head, and a broken chuckle escapes when he presses an open-mouthed kiss to my cheek.

“Thanks, buddy. That’s exactly what I needed.” I grip his hand, smiling at him, and he starts jumping up and down in my lap all over again.

The door opens then, and I tense, my grip tightening around him of its own accord.

I meet his mama’s eyes, breaking a little inside at the sadness in them.

What are you sad for, baby?

For you?

For me?

Payton breaks our stare, blinking as she glances off. “I’m here for some more work with the Avix Inquirer. They have some new ideas they want to try out and asked for me again, so…”

Pride swells, and I offer as much of a smile as I can muster. “That’s good, Pretty Little. I’m happy for you.”

Her brows pull tight, and she nods. “Anyway, I’m staying at the same place as…last time. Maybe you want to⁠—”

Come over? Be with you for a while? Hope sparks…

“—take him for a little while? You could bring him to me in an hour or two, whenever you want to, really.”

That hope is snuffed out, buried beneath boulder after ten-ton boulder.

I regard her closely, a pit of emptiness gnawing at my insides. “Without you?”

Payton drops her eyes to the ground, and I watch as tears slide along her cheeks.

But they make no sense to me, so I don’t fold to the overwhelming need to protect. To safeguard her and hold her tight. I don’t go to her, wipe them away, and beg her to let me make her feel better.

All I do is nod, climb from the car, and tuck my little man to my chest. Reaching back in, I snag the diaper bag off the floorboard. I say not a word to her as we slip past, ignore Chase’s questioning look on my way, and walk right into the football house, disappearing into my private room up the stairs.

I want to be angry.

I want to scream and yell and demand a reason for all the shit she’s not saying, but as soon as the thought comes, it washes away, because my boy is in my arms.

At least she gave me this.

Just like that, my mind completely resets, and for the first time in a long time, unwavering contentment flows through my veins.

This is what I want.

Afternoons with my main man, doing nothing and everything all at once.

“Okay, little man.” I toss a blanket on the floor, throw some pillows around it, and set him on his butt, dropping to my belly before him. “I watched some of your pop’s tournament videos with him, and I think it’s time I show you a thing or two. What do you say?”

Deaton sprays me with spit, speaking in some foreign baby languages before launching at me in a crawl of epic speed.

I laugh as he throws himself half over my body, pushing with his legs.

“Look at you, a natural.” I hook his arms around my neck, pretending he spins me, settling him so his legs are sprawled out to the side. “That’s a pin! And Deaton Vermont gets the W in the first round.” We do a few more moves, my big guy laughing and clapping all the way as we wrestle around the floor. I lift him into the air over my head, using his weight like a pair of dumbbells. “You’ll be the best little wrestler the world’s ever seen.” I smile, making silly faces and fucking melting when he copies what I do.

Twenty minutes or so in, I drop onto my back, having worked up an actual sweat, and laugh as he copies me, lying out flat beside me.

“Can you give knuckles?” I reach out, smiling when he slaps my hand and starts saying “mama” over and over, because that seems to be his favorite word. “Like this.” I take his hand and make a little fist, pushing it against mine. “Boom!” I say when our fists touch, and he cracks up, sticking his knuckles out to me over and over and doing his best to mimic the sound I make.

I fold my arms behind my head when he gets distracted, watching his every move as he pushes onto his butt, then presses his hands on my ribs.

“Aw.” I pretend he pins me down, and he laughs, shoving up onto his feet and clapping for himself.

Every muscle in my body freezes as I stare. “Holy shit…you’re standing.”

Slowly, I push into a sitting position, sneakily scooting back a few feet, and spread my legs out on the carpet.

My arms are outstretched and shaking as I stare at this little freaking miracle, afraid he might fall even though he looks steady as a rock standing there. “Little D, are you walking now?” I don’t mean to whisper, but the words come out that way.

Deaton keeps on clapping, and then his right leg lifts, planting down a few inches forward.

Fumbling around, I quickly shove my hand in my pocket, snag my phone, and press record before propping it up with some of the pillows to our left, hoping to hell he’s in the shot.

My mom is gonna die when she sees this.

Unless she already knows.

Maybe everyone knows but me.

Pressure falls on my chest, but when his left leg lifts and he comes even closer, all that washes away.

“Baby boy, you’re walking.” I smile, holding my hands out.

And Deaton damn near runs forward, clearing the last five steps with ease. He slams into my chest with a laugh and squeezes my cheeks with his slobbery hands.

“Oh my god,” I laugh, my arms lifting him from the floor. “Daddy’s so proud of y-you.”

I don’t realize what I’ve said util the words are out there, and I squeeze my eyes closed, tucking him closer for another quiet moment.

“Ba, ba, ba,” he babbles next.

A low, raspy chuckle escapes me, and I spin him, tucking him in my lap as I reach for his bag and pull out the small sippy cup from the corner pocket. “Man, you are getting big. Talking and walking and a big boy cup?” I murmur, handing it to him to see if he knows what to do.

Sure enough, he tips it back, gazing up at me and tugging on my hoodie strings as he takes a few small sips of water.

My hand lifts, and I run my fingers over his soft curls, staring down into his big blue eyes.

This must be what it’s like to have to share a child with a second family, like a family of divorce.

Bone-splitting sadness envelops me, and I wince at the literal pain it causes. I can’t imagine not being with the mother of my child. It would be pure torture every day knowing you’re missing something. I think I’d want to do everything I could to make it work.

I blink, shaking my head.

What the hell am I talking about? That is exactly what’s going on here, and I have tried everything. Because I am the other half. Blood or not, he’s still mine.

Even if she won’t be.

Why the fuck won’t she be?

Because you’re not enough, and you never will be.

I thought I understood, but I don’t.

She promised me.

She promised, and I wish she would have just…not.