The Guy on the Left (The Underdogs, #2)(11)

Cover and cook on low for 4 to 5 hours or until chicken is tender. Remove and shred chicken. Add chicken back into the crockpot and stir well to mix all other ingredients together.



Great served over rice or may be eaten with tortillas.





Clarissa



Toweling Dante off, I peek out the bathroom window for the umpteenth time as he tells me about his day. The first day of kindergarten is a breeze, according to my little man.

“Jase is not as smart as me. Neither is ugly Carly.”

“Not nice,” I remind him as he puts his hands on my shoulders, and I pull up his underwear, studying his profile. After seeing Troy up close a few days ago, I realized just how much he favored his father. It had been so long that I’d almost forgotten how striking, fuck that, how ridiculously hot Troy is. Even more so now. My baby’s wet lashes are as thick and long as his. His eyes the same brilliant blue.

“Mommmmy,” Dante draws out, “did you hear me?”

“No, buddy, what did you say?”

“I said that Carly is ugly.”

“Even if that’s your opinion, you keep it to yourself. Do you hear me? She could turn out to be a good friend one day.” He shakes his head beneath the towel in protest as I scrub off the excess moisture. Once he’s dry, I study Dante carefully to try and distinguish which of his features are mine.

Noticing my scrutiny, he widens his eyes and leans in with his nose pressed to mine, drawing out my laugh.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Just looking, Peanut.”

“I’m not a peanut. I’m getting bigger.” He flexes, and I end up on my butt in hysterics as he exaggeratedly shows off his muscles while pinching his hands making twin beaks and animatedly moving them back and forth. “These swans are legit.”

I agree through my laugh. “So big.”

“Don’t say it like that. I know you’re just playing when you say it like that.”

“You may be getting big, but you’ll always be my baby,” I say, gathering his dirty clothes as he struggles with his shirt before poking his head through the hole. “I’m going to be as big as Troy one day.”

I bite my lip, doing my best to hide my reaction. Hearing Troy’s name from his lips is earth-shattering. “There’s a really good chance you will be.”

“I’ll be so big. You’ll see. Then I can tell Carly she’s ugly.”

“No, son. You can never ever tell Carly she’s ugly. Ever. Being bigger doesn’t mean you can pop off at the mouth and hurt people’s feelings.”

“I heard you tell Parker that Mr. Brown was destined for shit city.”

“BOY!” I turn him to face me, eyes bulging.

“Sorry, just saying it the way you said it.”

“Do as I say, not as I do. I wasn’t insulting him, and I said he was destined to float shit creek. If you’re going to quote someone, do it correctly.”

“K.” He looks up at me, confused. “Mommy, what’s a shit creek?”

“Dante, let’s breathe for a second here. It’s been a long day. Let’s save the rest of the Spanish Inquisition for later. Don’t you have a video to make?”

His face lights up. “Yes! I’m doing a review today!”

“Awesome. Go ahead and make it while I get your dinner ready, and I’ll approve it after.”

“K.” He runs off just after I get his sock on. In the kitchen, I unwrap some leftover Fiesta Chicken and slide it in the oven. Moving to the living room, I take my syllabus out from my leather brief and grab my red pen before getting cozy in my recliner. Teaching high school is challenging. Finding a way to keep kids interested in more than Instagram or Snapchat these days is damn near impossible.

Last year was by far the hardest of my career, and I’m determined to turn things around this year and find new and creative ways to get them to interact during class. I’m a few days into my lesson plans when voices outside my window grab my attention. At the blinds, I curse my curiosity. Troy admitted he watched, and that he saw me watch. I did know he was watching. Of course I knew. I’d been aware of him since he left the present on my porch along with the envelope full of cash. Truth be told, I’d spotted him before that but refused to acknowledge it. When he left the gift, he gave me no choice but to recognize his lingering presence. But, no matter how many times our eyes met over the crown of his son’s head while I walked him into my apartment, or how remorseful or pitiful his expression, especially in my weakest moments, I’d always slammed the door behind us. And still, he’d refused to stay away. His truck parked facing my apartment, on guard.

My disgust and contempt for what he did was by far the easiest grudge I’ve ever held. Living through labor alone had sealed my anger. He’d robbed me of the chance to experience it with someone capable of feeling the same type of emotion. Not a kid who had a curfew and a prom date waiting. I had no intention of letting him back into my headspace. But one long look at him on my doorstep had made it impossible not to. Of the words he spoke, he seemed so sincere in his apology, in his eagerness to prove himself, at least concerning Dante. But he’d also seemed sincere the night he talked my panties off. Years ago, with anger being my motivator, I swore what I said was true. I would never get over what he did. The way he manipulated his way between my legs.