The Guy on the Left (The Underdogs, #2)(58)

“What did I tell you?”

“It feels funny,” he giggles.

“Baby, you need to leave it alone.” I worry my lip after checking my purse and debate on shooting a text. Troy’s been avoiding me since our run-in with his mother, using his time with Dante at his house between his away games, school, and work. I’ve not put up much of a fight because I have no idea where he stands, but there is now a jarring distance between us from where we were. I saw it that day, the minute Pamela drove away, his resentment apparent with the way he looked at me—a far cry from mere hours before.

I’ve been iced out.

His checks are still coming weekly without fail, but his absence is noticeable. He’s kept up his routine with Dante, never missing breakfast with his son. Though we stay friendly in his presence, it’s all small talk, both his interest and his eyes are anywhere but on me.

This is precisely the type of thing I feared. Things got heavy, and he all but ran. We put on a united front for his mother, and for that, I owe him, but I haven’t had the chance to apologize. He repeatedly tried to take the blame for all of it, and it pained me to see him so helpless.

And now, it’s as if any relationship we started has evaporated into thin air. Before there was an issue of us and the blowup, things were good. Better than good. We were functioning like a family. However, between that day and Troy’s new distance, I’m growing more confident that trying for anything beyond co-parenting would be a mistake. If only I could get that kiss out of my head. The longer he keeps me at arm’s length, the more I try to convince myself it was just a territorial play to win me. Maybe it isn’t me that Troy wanted. Maybe he just wasn’t comfortable with anyone else playing house with his son.



Clarissa: Are you at work?

Troy: No, I’m off tonight.

Clarissa: How was your Thanksgiving?

Troy: It was like being dragged around a field of razor blades by my balls. Yours?

Clarissa: Far more uneventful. Do you think she’ll come around?

Troy: One day, she wants to spend some time with him soon.

Clarissa: That would be fine.

Troy: I’ll set it up. So, what’s up?

Clarissa: Do you have any singles?

Troy: Singles?

Clarissa: Dolla dolla bills yo. (Dollar eyes emoji) Troy: What do you have in mind? (Devil emoji.) Clarissa: Chillout, perv. Your son’s about to lose his first tooth.

Troy: Yeah, I’ve got a few.

Clarissa: Great. I won’t have to write an IOU.

Troy: Which tooth?

Clarissa: One up front.

Troy: Shit. I hope it comes back.

Clarissa: That’s usually how it works.

Troy: I mean, comes back straight. I had crooked teeth.

Clarissa: Really? Your teeth are perfect.

Troy: Yeah, after four years of braces.

Clarissa: Ha. Can’t picture that. So, can I come get the money?

Troy: How about I play tooth fairy tonight?

Clarissa: How will you play it? I was thinking a stick of gum and a few dollars Troy: That’s it?

Clarissa: Yeah. He’s got a mouthful to lose, and we aren’t going overboard for losing teeth.

Troy: He’s our kid. We can spoil him if we want.

Clarissa: Fine, Daddy Warbucks, can I run over and grab the cash or not?

Troy: You call me daddy again, and I’ll make it rain.

Clarissa: Har har.

Troy: I’ll bring it over later. Just let me know when he’s out.

Clarissa: Okay, thanks.



The flirtatious text exchange makes me hopeful, and I can’t help but spend a few minutes on myself. Troy’s seen me in every imaginable state, but some part of me wants the ‘what if’ connection back. I let my hair down and tame it with a little beach wave spray before covering my arms with lotion. Half an hour later, I have Dante tucked in, his tooth waiting underneath his pillow for the Tooth Fairy, who pokes his head in shortly after a light knock on the door.

This particular fairy is covered in sweat, his muscular frame showcased by the long-sleeved tee clinging to him and sweatpants. His thick copper blond hair peeks out of his toboggan framing his face, outlining his square jaw. The sight of him knocks a little breath from me as I greet him.

“Hey,” I say, tightening my robe. I can feel the late fall chill coming off his skin. “You’ve been running?”

“Yeah, that’s kind of what I do.”

When he finally lifts his eyes to mine, that kiss is all I think about, but in his posture, I feel the agitation he’s still harboring. I don’t know how to make this right, but I can sense his need to do the same.

“Troy, I wanted to tell you—”

“I was thinking—”

We share a smile, and he lifts his chin.

“You go fir—”

“What were—”

This gets a laugh from us both.

“Want some water?” I offer.

“Sure, thanks.”

He follows me into the kitchen. “You smell incredible.”

“Thanks.”

He leans against my counter, crossing his arms. “Going anywhere?”

My phone rattles on the counter, and both our eyes drop as Brett’s name lights up the screen. My eyes flick to Troy’s, whose voice cools when he speaks.

“Don’t not answer on my account.”