Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 128156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
He tugs on her top and she turns, giving him her full attention, listening raptly as he tells her who the hell knows what, but his little face is so serious, it makes me smile.
I lean back and allow myself to watch her—the way she smiles and gushes over every cookie he decorates. The way she flicks her ponytail over her shoulder when it falls in her eyes. The way she kisses the top of his head when he leans over and takes a look at her own decorating skills.
I glance at my friends to see if they’re watching her as closely as I am, but they aren’t.
They aren’t looking their way at all, in fact, because they trust her with the most important person in their life.
She is the most important person in mine.
My eyes move back to the beautiful blond, and a lump forms in my throat.
She’s so good with him, so natural.
A quiet, cautious thought dares to slip into my mind, and I allow it to come to fruition. To ask the question I suddenly am desperate to know the answer to.
Does she want a little one of her own one day the way I do, and could I be the man to give her that?
And then I shut the thought down fast.
What am I doing?
I run my hands down my face and let out a slow, quiet breath.
My phone beeps in my pocket, and I tug it out to find an unknown number on the screen.
Curious, I open the message, and instant anger pulses through my veins.
Unknown: you can’t ignore me forever, Son. I just want to talk.
My fingers fly across the keys angrily and I send the message before I can even think twice.
Me: You lost the option to talk to me when you crushed my dad. You lost the right to call me son when you stole my future from me, and you lost all my respect when you showed up to the game my father taught me how to play with someone else.
My fingers tingle and I wring them out before I block that number like I did hers last week—after dozens of calls and texts, all of which I ignored—and turn off my phone.
I don’t know how many more Sundays like this I’m going to get, so I’m going to enjoy this one.
I walk right up to the table where Deaton and Paige are decorating what look to be sugar cookies of all different shapes and sizes.
I’ve just swung one leg over the seat when Deaton looks up with a frown, making me freeze in place.
“Uh, Uncle Chaser, you have to sit over there with my dad,” he tells me, but there’s a little unsure pinch to his brows and he looks to Paige. “Right, Paige?” he asks her, with big puppy-dog eyes. “It’s just-me-and-you time?”
Paige opens her mouth, looking to me and back, and I wait for her to save the day, too, but honestly, I wouldn’t even mind walking away right now after what he said and the way he said it.
His and her time. He loves her too.
Somehow I want to stay even more while equally wanting to go and give them this.
“It is our special time,” she confirms, brushing Deaton’s little curls from his forehead. “But what if we let Uncle Chaser decorate just one cookie? You can be the boss and tell him if it’s good enough to go on the tray for your grandma and grandpa’s big Thanksgiving party.”
I know she’s got him before he even speaks, his eyes lighting up, head tilting. “I get to be the cookie judge?”
Paige nods sharply. “Oh yeah. The head judge.”
“Yay!” His hands shoot into the air, and he climbs to his feet on the bench. Paige shoots her hands out to steady him. “Guys! Come on! Come make just one cookie and I get to be your judge!”
The others chuckle, not really understanding but getting up and coming over regardless.
I sit down, reaching across the table to fold my hand in Paige’s.
She looks up, her smile soft as the others file around us, and Deaton tells them what they are and are not allowed to do, including which cookie each person is in charge of.
And we all sit there, letting the little three-year-old boss us around.
Not one of us would have it any other way.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Chase
It’s the Friday after Thanksgiving and the stadium is packed. Even for an away game, there’s a lot of blue and gold lighting up the stands. It’s easy to know why.
This one matters more than the others.
Not just for pride, not that I’ve got any of that left, but because somehow, someway, we got ourselves into a tough spot—not from an overwhelming number of AU losses but because our division is the best out there and the competition was stiff.