Fumbled (Playbook #2)(24)

He’s in the same clothes he was wearing earlier, but his chino shorts are covered with wrinkles and his tank is misshapen along the hem. His hair, which was pulled up, is now framing his face, and I can’t miss how red his eyes are even from the gentle glow of my dashboard.

I want to reach out to him, offer him the comfort I have no business giving him.

“Training camp starts next week.” He pulls at the bottom of his shirt and I see why the hem is ruined. “Can we do it before then?”

We.

My entire time as Ace’s mom, it’s always been me. Just me.

God. Even the pronouns are changing.

“I think I should tell him alone,” I say. He starts to object, but I keep going before he can say anything. “All he knows about you is you don’t know about him. That’s all. You aren’t the only one who’ll be shocked by this. I have to work tomorrow, but I have Monday off. I’ll tell him in the morning and you can come over for lunch. But let him react to the news alone. I don’t want him to feel ambushed.”

“No.” He takes a deep breath and releases his shirt. “I mean yeah. You’re right. That’s good.”

I don’t know if I’d go all the way to good, but at least it’s a plan.

“So he really doesn’t know about me?”

“No. I told him the basic stuff. We met in high school. You left for college and we lost contact. Then I found out I was pregnant, but you never knew. He doesn’t think you abandoned him or anything.”

“That’s good, I guess.”

“Yeah,” I say.

I don’t know what to say or do. Can I leave now that we have a plan? Do I need to tell him more about Ace? Do I wait and let Ace tell him what he wants him to know?

“Do you still have my address?” I ask him the first thing that comes to mind.

He nods his head but still doesn’t speak and I don’t know what else to say. I move to put my car into Drive so we can get the hell away from each other, but TK finally finds his words.

“I don’t know what to think, Poppy.”

Well, crap.

“I know.” I don’t even feel the tears build before they fall this time. I turn my head to the window, not wanting TK to see. “You’re not the only one.”

“I don’t know what to believe,” he says.

“What do you mean?” I ask, not understanding his train of thought. “What’s there to believe?”

“I never knew you were pregnant. I never got a text or told my mom I wanted you to have an abortion. I really don’t know what you’re talking about and my mom said it never happened.” He pushes the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I know she can be overprotective, but she’d never not want to know her own grandkid. Still, why would you make up this entire story if it weren’t true?”

The world falls from beneath my feet. Every single stone I’ve laid, every inch of the walkway I’ve paved for me and Ace, vanishes. And what’s left . . . what’s real? Well, nothing is there.

“Holy shit.” I breathe out the words, picturing Ace’s face when I tell him about TK. I thought I was protecting him from a dad who never wanted him. But seeing TK? Putting together the pieces of the puzzle I’ve been collecting since we met? The excitement at seeing me, the anger toward my leaving, his insane and confused reaction of my telling him about Ace, and the heartbroken man he was seeing Ace today.

We were played.

I know in my heart of hearts TK had no idea about Ace.

Everything makes sense and it knocks the air out of me.

What am I going to say to Ace? We’ve been a few miles away from his dad for the last six years, and I kept it from him. Will he ever trust me again? Will he ever run to me, carefree and happy? Or am I stealing his childhood, robbing him of his innocence? Will I break something I’ll never be able to repair?

Tears clog my throat and my breathing becomes ragged.

All I ever wanted was to protect him, and now I’m going to be the one to ruin him.

Sweat breaks out on my forehead and a rush of heat consumes my body. My stomach flips and I just manage to unbuckle my seat belt and open my door before I empty the contents of my stomach all over the broken concrete outside.

I don’t dare look at TK as I unfold myself from the driver’s-side door, avoiding the mess I’ve made—literally and figuratively. I slam the door shut and walk toward the empty street. Hoping a little distance from him is what I need.

It doesn’t work. The harder I try to relax, the more frantic my breathing becomes. Rapid in and out. Shallow and useless. I put my hands on top of my head, trying to open my lungs, desperate for the oxygen that’s evading me. A car turns onto the street and its headlights dance in front of me as it passes.

“Poppy.” TK’s voice echoes in the back of my mind. “Poppy!” he yells again . . . or doesn’t. I’m not really sure.

The streetlights above me move farther away. My body sways, still fighting to take one deep breath.

My head spins. My vision swims. Everything in the tunnel in front of me starts to fade. I reach out and try to grab on to something, anything, but nothing’s there . . . until TK’s arms wrap around my waist, holding me on my feet.

“Are you okay?” He asks the question he has to know the answer to.