The Redo (Winslow Brothers #4) (62)

Wes looks at me with raised eyebrows and the kind of smile that’s a little too fucking amused.

“Well, now that you’ve psychoanalyzed me, how about we start heading back into the stadium so we’re in our seats before kickoff?”

Wes chuckles at that. “Things getting a little too real for you, Mr. Caretaker?”

I purse my lips and discreetly flip him the middle finger.

And Lex, well, she’s already walking around the locker room high-fiving the players and giving her final game-day advice.

“We’ll meet you down here after the game?” I ask Wes.

He laughs more. “Nice avoidance.”

“I’m not avoiding,” I retort. “But I’m also not going to take relationship advice from a kid.”

“A really smart kid, mind you,” he adds with a smug grin. “Hell, Thatch takes advice from Lex all the time.”

“Because Thatch is a fucking lunatic.”

“I won’t deny that.” Wes chuckles, and I can tell by the way he’s looking around the room for someone in particular, his mind is already forming a plan.

“Hey, Gossip Girl, your giddiness to replay this conversation to Winnie is almost showing.”

He smirks. “You and I both know Win would have my ass if I didn’t tell her all about this. Especially the look on your face while Lex was psychoanalyzing you.”

“I didn’t have a look.”

“Trust me, you had a look. And it should be noted Winnie had a lot to say last night about you helping out Maria and—”

“You think maybe you should get back to focusing on, I don’t know, the game today, or do you want to bring the child psychologist over here and have her evaluate me some more?”

“She got you good, Rem.” Wes laughs. “She got you really good.”

He offers one final pat to my shoulder before heading back toward his office.

Smug bastard.

I love my niece to pieces, but the last thing I’m going to do is start reevaluating my life based on what she’s read in a fucking psychology textbook from Winnie’s medical school days.

She might be Albert Einstein-level smart, but she’s still just a kid.

A kid who doesn’t understand half of the shit I’ve gone through in the past.

Sure, I’ve made amends with Charlotte since then. Hell, I even understand why that marriage, that relationship, didn’t turn out. But that doesn’t remedy the fact that taking another leap like that, experiencing that kind of heartbreak, well, it’s not something I want to volunteer as tribute for. My life is fine the way it is without that kind of complication.

Yet, you seem real keen on staying in contact with Maria…and her life is far from uncomplicated.

Obviously, my niece’s commentary has fucked with my head a little bit.

Maria is someone I’ve known for a very long time. I care about her. Will always care about her. It only makes sense that I would want to be there for her. The shit she’s had to go through is insane. Honestly, it makes my whole being-left-at-the-altar past trauma pale in comparison.

She deserves to have a support system. Someone by her side to help in whatever way they can. And I’m more than happy to be that person for her.

But does that include almost kissing her? Or fantasizing about what it would be like to slide inside her?

I mentally shake those thoughts out of my head and focus on finding Lexi.

It doesn’t take long for me to spot her over by Quinn Bailey, her hands-down favorite player on the Mavericks.

“Ready to go, Lex?” I call toward her, and she meets my eyes briefly before turning back to give Quinn one last high five.

“See ya later, Lex!” Teeny tells her as she walks by him, giving her a high five as well.

“Glad our good luck charm is here today,” Leo Landry adds, offering a little wink.

Once Lex reaches me, her lips are etched into a permanent smile, and her cheeks are so pink and rosy it’s like she’s blushing.

But my niece doesn’t blush.

“Are you feeling okay, Lex?”

“Yes. I’m not experiencing any current symptoms that would raise suspicion for illness.” She nods and I take her hand, but as we walk out of the locker room and down the main hallway that leads toward the inside of the stadium, I about trip over my own feet when she says, “Almost all of the Mavericks have firm butts. Like, really firm butts. Is that what women like on men?”

“Uh…” I blink one thousand times. “I’m sorry, what?”

She looks up at me. “I said almost all of the Mavericks—”

“Lex, I heard what you said,” I cut her off before I have to hear the rest again. “I’m just trying to figure out why you’re saying it.”

“It’s an observation, Uncle Rem. I’ve never noticed it before, but I kind of like seeing it. Is that normal?”

What the fuck is happening right now?

“Probably? I don’t know…uh…” I pause, and instead of facing this head on like a man, I quickly pull our tickets out of my pocket and decide it’s a conversation she should have with her mother. “What seats are we in again, Lex?”

She lets out an exasperated breath. “Uncle Rem, we’re in the same seats we always sit in. First row on the fifty-yard line.”