Fumbled (Playbook #2)(22)

“Well.” I shrug. “I don’t want to keep you from them.” I turn to leave again, but while the desire for my exit is high, the execution is low.

TK grabs my hand and stops me from going. “Wait.”

“No.” I snatch my hand back. I guess I am good at that outside the club. “You said everything you needed to say the last time we talked, and honestly? This isn’t a good time for me.”

I glance over his shoulder and my heart rate kicks up about two thousand percent when I see the boys circled around their coach in the end-of-practice huddle.

“I want to apologize.” He ignores the panic I know is written across my face. “I shouldn’t have said some of the things I said to you. I was upset, but that’s no excuse for the way I behaved.”

He’s got that freaking right.

“Cool. Apology accepted.” I rush the words out, still focused on Ace’s wild curls in the huddle. “I have to go.”

“Aren’t you going to apologize?” he asks.

Oh my God.

Was he always this big of an idiot?

“No!” I turn and shout, drawing more attention to us when I want to do the opposite. “Ugh. I mean yes. I’m sorry. I’m sorry about this entire mess, I should’ve told you years ago.”

“You’re still sticking with this story, Poppy?” His shoulders slump and the corners of his mouth turn down, like he’s sad I failed a test I wasn’t aware I was taking. “I didn’t mean to judge you about having a kid and I’m sure he’s great, but it’s messed up that you’re pinning him on me.”

I feel my jaw tighten and the migraine only TK seems capable of giving me starts to appear. I’m ready to tell him where he can shove his nonjudgment when I hear the faint sound of a whistle. I look back to the field and I see boys running in every direction to their parents scattered around the field, but my eyes go straight to the sun-kissed mop of curls on the head of a smiling boy with emerald eyes on me.

“Shit,” I whisper. “Fine. Sorry. It was messed up.” I turn to him, imploring him to leave. “Is that what you wanted to hear? I said it, now can you go?”

I’m close to falling on bended knees to get him gone.

But it’s too late.

“Mom!” Ace yells right before running into me just short of full speed.

I catch him with an oof from me and laughter from him.

“Coach said he’ll e-mail the parents Monday about what team we make!” He’s so excited to tell me the news, it takes him a minute to register that we have company. His green eyes widen as soon as they land on TK. “Holy crap!”

“Ace!” I scold . . . even though I say way worse every single day. “Mouth!”

“Sorry, Mom.” He bites back his smile before looking back to TK. “Are you TK Moore?”

It’s like watching a slow-motion car accident. I don’t want to watch, but I can’t look away.

Ace is staring at TK in awe. Born in Denver, Ace is a Mustangs fan through and through. It doesn’t matter if I try to distance him from football, the Mustangs are his team and there’s nothing I can do to change it. So being this close to one of their star players? It’s like he’s at the pearly gates and Jesus himself has greeted him.

TK, on the other hand, looks like he’s been punched in the stomach. His green eyes are wide, no doubt taking in an identical pair staring back at him with his nose, single dimple, and sun-bleached highlighted hair. I always knew Ace favored TK, but seeing them together? The similarities are even stronger than I thought.

“Y-yeah, man.” He stutters his answer, his eyes flying between me and Ace. “I am. And you’re Ace.” He recovers enough so Ace doesn’t notice the internal freak-out he’s having.

“You know my name?” Ace turns to me, his eyes glossed over from blissed-out joy.

“Your mom was telling me about you.” TK carefully schools his features. “She said you’re a big football fan.”

Ace starts to answer, but I cut him off.

“Why don’t you go stand by Mr. Lewis and Jayden,” I say when he manages to rip his attention from TK. I can’t watch this any longer. My heart doesn’t know whether to break or explode and I can’t chance melting down at the park. “We’re gonna run home and then go get Bonnie Brae with them.”

“Bonnie Brae? Can I have a sprinkle cone?” Ace asks.

“Only if you hurry over to them.”

“Sweet!” His smile turns megawatt and he punches the sky above him, his curls flying across his sweat-covered forehead. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Moore,” my polite boy says before shooting across the park, back to Jayden, who’s on the grass, pulling off his shin guards, and Cole, who’s watching me with a keen interest.

I start toward them, eager to leave this scene in the past, but I stop dead when I hear TK behind me.

“He called me Mr. Moore,” he whispers.

I will myself to keep walking. Ignore him. I told him Ace was his and he didn’t believe me. I can’t deal with his emotions right now, not when I have my own set of messy ones brewing a nasty storm.

“He has my gap,” he says a little bit louder.

This gets my attention.

“What?” I turn to see him still watching Ace.