Jock Row (Jock Hard #1)(67)



“Fine. I’m the one dying—tell me what’s going on.”

“We’re friends.” He’s grinning, I just know it.

“Does Scarlett know you’re just friends?” his mother teases.

Long silence. “I didn’t say we were just friends.”

“What are you saying, exactly?”

My breath hitches, honestly it does, and I become a cliché from a movie, leaning closer to the doorjamb, straining for his next words. He’s suddenly gone quiet, thinking. The silence drags on an agonizingly long time—or just a few seconds, I have no idea, but it’s torture. Waiting in this hiding spot I’ve accidentally found myself in is sheer agony.

I’m hiding like a damn creeper, but I cannot pull myself away.

“We haven’t slept together, if that’s what you’re asking.”His mom laughs. “That’s not what I was asking, but thanks for the intel. Oh, while we’re on the subject, please tell me you’re using protectio—”

“Stop. Don’t say it. Jesus.”

I imagine her casually raising a brow, just like her son does. “Be safe, that’s all I’m saying.”

“You gave me this speech two years ago.”

“Well it’s never been more necessary. The last thing you want is your paycheck going toward child support.”

“Scarlett isn’t like that—we haven’t…” It sounds like he’s clamping his lips shut, blowing out a puff of air. “Mom, can I ask you something and have you promise you won’t freak out?”

“When do I freak out?”

“Uh—all the time.”

“Hmm, I’m sure that’s not true.”

Rowdy’s sigh is loud. “Can I ask you something or not?”

“Of course! And I promise I won’t freak out.”

A drawn-out silence fills the kitchen.

My palms begin to sweat.

“Do you believe someone can fall in love in a few short weeks?” He asks so quietly, I swear my ears are playing tricks on me. “Because I’m about to lose my mind here.”

His mom is quiet, too. “I write romance novels, sweetie,” she says slowly. Carefully. “Of course I believe you can fall in love fast.” She pauses. “Is that how you’re feeling about Scarlett?”

Another long, tortured pause, and everyone holds their breath.

“I don’t know. She’s all I can think about, ya know? I can’t concentrate on anything when she’s not around, which is most of the time, and all I want to do is spend time with her.”

His mom hums out a cryptic, “Hmmm.”

And now Rowdy is on a roll, having gotten the words out. “At first, she was just this girl I had to keep out of the baseball house for the night, right? Because the guys are such dumbasses…” His voice trails off, irritated. “Anyway, is this normal? I dream about her and shit.”

I’m all he can think about?

He dreams about me? He’s said it before, but it’s always when we’re joking around.

“Sure it’s normal, when you’re attracted to someone—”

“I’m not just attracted to her, Mom. It’s like…I don’t know, it’s like…”

“It’s like what?”

He groans, frustrated. “I don’t know.”

“Love doesn’t make sense, honey. Maybe you should ask your father.” She chuckles. “God, he had no idea what he was doing when we started dating. It was such a train wreck.”

“I’m not talking to Dad about my love life.” He’s horrified by the thought.

“What are you going to do?”

“I think I’m in love with her,” his voice confirms, repeating the words, stunning everyone. “Or falling in love with her, whatever. Feeling something. I don’t fucking know what’s happening to me.”

He’s laughing now, and the deep timbre has me pulling back in shock. Falling slack, back against the wall, my hands press against my flaming hot cheeks.

Rowdy is falling in love with me?

He loves me.

Oh my god, he’s in love with me?

Say it again, Sterling, I silently beg, greedy for the words. Just one more time.

“Have you discussed it with her?”

“God no!” He screeches. “Are you nuts?”

I have to press a palm to my mouth to stop from giggling as Mrs. Wade laughs. “Why not?”

“I’m not ready to confess that shit to her, Mother. I don’t know what she’ll say and I’m not a masochist.”

“I’m just asking, Sterling, relax. You’re so sensitive.” Mrs. Wade chuckles again. “Please stop staring at me with that look—you’re being ridiculous.”

It sounds like he’s crossing his arms, slumping in the chair. “I’m not discussing my feelings with her.”

“Why not?”

“Because.” His voice is stern, resolute. “I don’t think she feels the same way. It’s been two months.”

“Why would you say that?” she asks gently, and I imagine if I stuck my head around the corner, I’d see her hand resting on his forearm, comforting. “Two months is a long time.”

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