The Guy on the Left (The Underdogs, #2)(4)

A few times over the years, and selfishly I’d give up for a while, justifying it with the thought they might be better off. And then I would study my son’s picture, watch his videos, and all notions would leave me.

So, I watched.

For years, I watched.

I’d follow her home from her school and watch Dante play in the little park across the street from her apartment. I stalked her on social media, which paid off because I got to see him take his first steps on Instagram. When he began talking on one of her videos, I was filled with a father’s pride but had no one to share it with. Not even my own mother, who I know without a doubt, will never forgive me once I finally reveal the truth.

Clarissa shared so many milestones on social media that I’d foolishly convinced myself she was throwing me a bone. So one night when he was three, after a little liquid courage, I finally made a move by leaving a new car seat on her porch along with some cash hidden between the pages of my favorite children’s book, A Light in the Attic. After that night, I’d catch her scanning the parking lot every so often when she carried him from the house, but when she spotted me, I was never acknowledged. Not once.

I felt like I was on trial every agonizing minute I watched but endured the punishment because I deserved it. In hindsight, it was the most selfish thing I’ve ever done, boldly deceiving Clarissa the way I did that night.

But now I long to hold my son, more than I fear her wrath. I long to tell him the good things I know about life. To give him his first football.

I know, without a doubt, now’s the time to take action, or I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.

I’m done watching.

Today’s the day I meet my son.

I’m between places due to my old roommate moving in with his girl. And with Mom shacking up with her long-time boyfriend, I no longer have a room at the house I grew up in. So, the minute I spotted the ad for a vacant room in the house next to hers, I saw it as a sort of sign.

Dialing the number, I say a silent prayer.

“This is Theo.”

In the locker room, I stuff my gear into my duffle. “I’m calling about the room for rent on Ohara drive. Is it still available?”

“Yes. I’ve gotten a few calls, but it’s still up for grabs. Are you a Grand student?”

“Yeah,” I mutter low as Kevin shoulders his bag and draws his brows in confusion at my conversation. “I play on the team.”

“Ah, well, I’m the half-time show.”

“In the band?”

“Yep.”

“Nice.”

“Thanks. So, the room is five hundred a month, including utilities. I’ve already rented the other out, so you’ll get the smaller of the two.”

“I don’t have much anyway. When can I see it?”

“When are you free?”

Glancing at my watch, I see Clarissa won’t pick up Dante for at least another hour.

“How about now?”

“Now’s good for me.”

“Give me fifteen.”

“See you then. What’s your name, man?”

“I guess that would be a good place to start, Troy Jenner.”

“Ah, Jenner.” His pause has me tensing. “Well, I mean no offense, but this may not be the house you’re looking for.”

I keep the indignation out of my reply. “I’m looking for peace, quiet. No bullshit.”

Kevin chooses that exact moment to try and get my attention by dropping trou and presenting me with his nut-sack. Eye level with his balls, I rise from the bench and deliver him a bitch slap that would make a pimp jealous. He has the audacity to act offended, screeching when I grip him in a headlock.

“Get your dick beaters off of me, Jenner!”

Theo sounds up on the other end of the line, hearing the commotion. “Are you sure about that?”

“Positive,” I grunt out, pushing Kevin away from me after gifting him a quick knee to the jugular. I have about thirty seconds until he regains motor function, maybe less. Kevin gasps on the floor, ass out, holding his neck as I step over him and cover the mouthpiece of the phone.

“Lance Prescott is the other who just rented out a room. Do you two get along?”

“Sure.” I glance at Lance a few lockers down where he’s packing his duffle, his usual ‘fuck off’ air surrounding him. He’s known as the team mute and keeps mostly to himself, but he’s a beast on the field, which has earned him mad respect from me. He’s the only other Texas Grand Ranger with enough talent and attention to get drafted, which in a way, makes him my main competition for the draft, but I don’t hold it against him. He defended his way into his spot, just as much as I ran my way into mine, and it’s my hope we both get a contract come draft day.

“I mean, we’re not exactly tight. He’s not much for words.”

“There’s your peace and quiet. See you in fifteen.”

“See you then. Thanks, man.”

I end the call and nudge Kevin on the floor. “Dude, what the hell is wrong with you? That call was important. Get a ride home. I have shit to do.”

He grunts as he lifts himself from the floor. “Why are you still looking for a place? I told you, Harris has room for you in his apartment and won’t charge you shit.”