Fumbled (Playbook #2)(38)

“Well, shit,” he mumbles into the phone and I can almost hear his grin. “Now I have to embarrass poor Maxwell at practice tonight.”

“If that’s possible. I don’t even watch football and I know how good he is.”

“Now you’re just trying to piss me off.” He laughs into the phone. “I’ll see you guys soon, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I whisper, feeling shy all of a sudden.

“Good. Later, Sparks.”

“Bye, TK.” I hang up before he can say anything else.

I throw my phone on the bed next to me and grab a pillow, bringing it to my chest and squeezing my arms around it as hard as I can.

TK unravels me in ways I thought impossible. I’ve lived such a guarded half-life for so many years, he’s a shock to my system. TK is a double espresso after years of no caffeine. He’s a bloodcurdling scream after years of silence.

He’s sunshine after living in darkness.

I heard everything he said to me, panty-baring proof withstanding, I felt every word as it passed through my receiver. And I want to fall into his arms with abandon. I want to dive into one of my favorite books and believe I’m as deserving of a happily-ever-after as the badass heroine fighting for love.

And I’m trying.

As much as I want to let go of all my fears, they keep popping up unwelcome in my mind. I don’t know if I was an asshole in a past life or something, but I know not to stay excited for something for long. Besides Ace, nothing good in my life lasts.

So as excited as I am to explore things with TK, I can’t help but sit and wait for the other shoe to drop.

I bring the pillow up to my face and let out a frustrated scream, full of anger and self-loathing for making even the simplest decision in my life a problem.

TK cares about me.

I care about TK.

We both care about Ace.

Simple.

But, man, am I making this complicated.





Seventeen




“Hurry up, mom!” Ace shouts through the house. I don’t even need to look to know he’s standing in front of the door with every piece of Mustangs gear he owns on. Which, thanks to TK, is quite a lot.

Ace is buzzing with excitement. All he’s been able to talk about for the last few days is training camp. And not just to me. I am pretty sure anyone who has encountered him since TK came over has heard not only about his other newly discovered DNA contributor but about his impending trip to the Mecca for Mustangs fans, the Mustangs training facility in Dove Valley.

I close my eyes and count to ten before answering, hoping I’ll be able to disguise some of the dread in my voice. “Hold on, I’m coming!”

Nope, didn’t work.

Even though TK has been in camp for only a couple of days, I’ve enjoyed the closed-to-the-public aspect of it. TK has made sure to call Ace every night and tell him about how practice is going and which rookies to watch out for. They’d chat for a while, Ace would go to bed happy, and I didn’t have to stand around in the summer sun with women I don’t know and probably won’t like.

I wish we could do that today. But apparently opening day is the biggest deal ever to Ace so we’re trekking to the freaking suburbs to stand outside with maniacs who took the day off work to watch grown men tackle each other into an early grave.

What is that, you ask?

Do I have a piss-poor attitude about this?

Why, yes. Yes, I do. But I’m allowed to be jaded.

I give myself a once-over in the bathroom mirror one last time and it pisses me off that I do. I don’t know why I care. TK and I are “exploring” things. I’m not his girlfriend yet. But even so, I might have spent longer than necessary making sure my curl definition was on point and my bronzer was just enough. I don’t have any Mustangs gear, but Ace demanded I at least wear my orange razorback tank. Orange is my color. And my brown skin does look phenomenal against my white denim shorts.

“Mooooommmmm!” Ace calls again. Thankfully, he can’t see me roll my eyes and stick out my tongue before I round the corner.

I was right. Ace is like a walking billboard for the Mustangs. Jersey, hat, basketball shorts, and socks, all Mustangs. He looks ridiculous but I don’t say anything. The gleam in his eyes is breathtaking, and even though I’d rather spoon my eyeballs out of my head than go to training camp, his joy makes this worth it . . . I guess.

“Here, I’m ready.” I grab my purse off the hook next to the door and slip on my flip-flops. “Did you get sunscreen on?”

“Yes, Mom.”

Unlucky for him, I do see him roll his eyes. “Excuse me?”

“Sorry,” he corrects himself. “I just really don’t want to miss anything. I mean, this is opening day! Noah tried to go last year and they couldn’t even get in, that’s how crowded it was.”

I try to think of any other reason to stall, but I come up empty-handed. “All right then, let’s get a move on.”

I don’t even finish before he swings the back door open and sprints to the garage.

I guess we’re doing this.



* * *



? ? ?

ACE IS A child, and because of that, I will not give him the satisfaction of being right.

We should’ve left at least thirty minutes earlier.