by J. Nathan
Trace turned to him. “What’s up, buddy?”
“Can we play basketball tomorrow?”
“Oh, CJ,” I said. “Trace is busy. He can’t play with you every day.”
“Sure I can,” Trace said.
My eyes cut to his. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Maybe I want to.”
Do not read into this, Marin. Do not put expectations on him. “When you have time.”
“I’ll make time,” he assured me.
I turned away from him before I did something crazy like hug him for being so much better than Charles.
“Can we Trace?” CJ asked.
“Sure. I’ll come get you so we can play on my net.” He looked to me. “Is that okay?”
I did one of those shrug-nods that were only acceptable when you were at a total loss for the appropriate words.
He looked to CJ. “Have your basketball ready.”
“Okay,” CJ said, his eyes all dreamy like Trace hung the moon.
Trace held out his fist which CJ gladly bumped. “See you tomorrow, buddy.” He glanced over his shoulder at me. “Bye, Marin.”
“Wait.” I grabbed my handbag from the counter. “Let me give you something.”
Trace took the two steps necessary for his long stride to cross my kitchen. His hand covered mine, stopping me from reaching for my wallet. “Stop.”
My heartbeat did a crazy skip, the unexpected strength of his grip and warmth of his touch catching me off guard. “But I—”
He leveled me with serious eyes, lowering his voice so CJ couldn’t hear. “I want to be here.”
I cocked my head, trying to ignore the tingling of his touch. “I know you’re busy.”
“Then make me a meal.”
“What?”
“Feed me.” He released my hand and stepped back. “My mother’s cooking sucks.”
I stared dumbstruck. One, because his mother still made him meals. And two, because I couldn’t believe he actually wanted to spend time with a single mother and her kid when he could be off sweeping girls off their feet with a mere glance.
“Can you do that?” he asked.
“Cook?”
His lips tipped up in the corners. “Make me a meal.”
“I can do that.”
“I bet there’s a lot you can do,” he murmured as he walked to the front door.
What the what?
“See you guys,” he called before slipping out the door as if he’d never been there at all.
I leaned back against the counter. The knocking of my pulse told me he definitely had been there.
“What’s wrong, Mom?”
I looked to CJ, his blond hair so much like mine. His green eyes his father's. “Nothing, buddy. Nothing at all.”
And this time I wasn’t lying to my son.
CHAPTER THREE
Marin
“You coming?” Trace asked the following day before taking CJ to play basketball.
From my spot in the open doorway, I looked at them standing on the front lawn. CJ was so tiny next to Trace’s tall frame. But he looked so damn happy. “Me?”
Trace nodded. “Yeah, you.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s fun.” He placed his big hand down on CJ’s shoulder, earning him a huge grin from his biggest fan. “And because my buddy here likely has some mad skills he wants to show off in front of his mom.”
I smiled, appreciating how he knew just what to say to make CJ worship him even more than he already did. “Maybe I’ll come by later. I need to cut the lawn.”
His brows shot up. “Cut the lawn?”
I nodded. “Had to get rid of the landscaper.”
Trace’s brows leveled out, the state of my financial situation obviously hitting him. “Let me do it for you.”
I shook my head. “Absolutely not.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m quite capable of pushing a lawnmower.”
He stood silently for a long minute. “Fine. But come by after.”
“Okay,” I relented.
“Good.”
“Good,” I echoed as they disappeared around the corner toward his house. I wondered what he meant by good. Good I was going to see my son play basketball. Or good he wanted me there.
God, what was wrong with me? I was a grown woman getting excited over a teenager. A teenager for Christ’s sake. I was sick. I needed help. Maybe I needed to talk to someone. And I didn’t mean Gayle.
I spent the hour after they left mowing the lawn and it was a lot bigger than I realized. I’d let the landscaper go last week and it had been some time since I’d pushed a lawnmower. But I’d done it, and a small sense of accomplishment swept over me. I didn’t need Charles. I was getting along just fine without a man in my life. And even if I hadn’t found a job yet, I was still managing.
After a quick shower, I whipped up sloppy Joes—something Charles hated—and headed to Trace’s house. I stopped behind my neighbor’s small hedge and watched them undetected.
CJ ran around Trace’s driveway laughing hysterically as he tried unsuccessfully to steal the ball away from Trace. After a couple minutes of teasing him, Trace let him steal the ball, feigning disappointment when CJ shot the ball. His shot didn’t even make it half way to the net, but Trace clapped as he jogged to grab it. “Good one, buddy.”
I walked toward them, unable to contain my smile. “Nice shot.”
They both twisted, smiling as soon as they spotted me.
“Did you see it?” CJ asked.
“Yep. You almost had him.”
“He did,” Trace agreed, shooting me a conspiratorial grin. “Gave me a real run for my money. You wanna try?”
I rolled my eyes. “Me?”
“You do realize you answer every one of my questions with a question, right?”
“I do?”
He nodded, smirking at yet another question.
“Well, I’m more of a spectator. I haven’t played a sport since high school.”
“What’d you play?”
“Volleyball.”
“Yeah.” His eyes dropped to my legs. The heat his stare elicited had me questioning my favorite cutoffs. “I can see that.”
Gahhhh.
Trace grabbed hold of CJ who laughed as he lifted him onto his shoulders. Given Trace’s height, CJ would have no trouble dunking the ball. “Come on Mom,” CJ called. “Come block me.”
Surprising them both, I threw my arms in the air and tried blocking CJ who held the ball on Trace’s shoulders. Trace gripped CJ’s legs before he moved right. Doing my best to block him, I moved right. Trace moved them left. CJ snort-laughed, igniting laughter in all of us as I followed them to the left.
I couldn’t ignore the comfortable feeling that swept over me. This was how easy life should have been. The fun. The laughter. The focus on our child. How did some college guy get that and not Charles? Was it just that he fell out of love with me? Was it that life became too tough when we had responsibilities? Or could life really be this easy?
CJ shot the ball over me and it swished through the net. He howled with excitement as Trace lowered him to the ground and bumped his fist. “Thanks, Trace.” CJ turned and threw himself into my arms. “I did it.”
I squeezed him into a hug and savored the moment, knowing I’d soon be replaced with friends and school and girls. Girls. The dreaded word for all mothers of sons. Especially when that son thought you were the most amazing girl in the world.
“Put me on your shoulders, Mom.”
I threw back my head in laughter. “Yeah right. You’ll crush me.”
He stepped out of my arms and looked me up and down. “You’re right. I am pretty strong.”
My eyes ventured to Trace, standing nearby with his arms crossed and his focus on me.
A smirk slipped across his lips, and I felt fairly confident it was the same one that melted panties on campus. “I’d like a shot.”
“You’d de
finitely crush me,” I assured him.
He laughed. “That’s not what I meant.”
I felt the creases in my forehead deepen. “You want me on your shoulders?”
“That’d be interesting,” he mused. “But I meant one on one. You and me.” He grabbed the ball from the driveway and alternated between hands, bouncing it in front of me, his eyes never wavering from mine. “Scared?” he asked.
“Of what?” I asked.
“Losing.”
“Nope. Losing I’ve mastered. It’s winning I need a shot at.” I swiped the ball away from him, dribbling it to the far end of the driveway. His deep laughter carried over my shoulders, and soon I felt his body behind me, his arms playfully reaching for the ball. His chest brushed my back slightly, but he kept himself from stealing the ball. I dribbled around him and shot an easy layup which dropped into the net as if I actually knew what I was doing.
CJ cheered and Trace shot me a satisfied grin. He let me make the shot. He let me look good in front of my son. Was there anything he didn’t do right?
Happiness swelled inside me. True happiness. I just wished a teenager wasn’t making me feel that way.
“I’m hungry,” CJ announced.
I looked between the two of them. “I hope you both are. I made sloppy Joe’s.”
Traces eyes rounded. “I’m invited?”
“A deal’s a deal. Unless, you have plans.”
A hot as hell smile swept across his lips. “I do now.”
* * *
CJ wiped his mouth with his crumbled napkin as he pushed his chair back from the kitchen table. “Enough grown up talk. Can I play a video game?”
“Go ahead,” I said.
“I’m a grown up?” Trace asked.
I stood, grabbing the empty dishes. “It happens faster than you know.”
“Not for me,” CJ said, jumping to his feet and running out of the kitchen. “Love you more than the universe, Mom,” he called as his footsteps clomped up the hardwood steps.
“Love you too,” I called before looking to Trace. “That. That right there. That’s what makes every day worth it. That unconventional love and honesty you’ll only ever get from a child.”
“I don’t think that’s only reserved for kids,” Trace challenged, standing and grabbing our empty glasses.
I scoffed. “Haven’t met many who I can trust wholeheartedly.”
He took the glasses to the counter before turning and leaning against it, studying me with narrowed eyes. “Your ex did a real number on you, huh?”
I turned from the sink and leaned against the counter beside him. “I find myself thinking back to everything he ever said and did, trying to figure out what was the truth and what was a big fat lie.”
“Doesn't sound like it’s doing you any good.”
“You’re probably right.”
“I am right,” he assured me, his serious tone leaving no room for doubt.
“And what’s worse is we’re not even divorced yet,” I explained. “It takes a while for all the logistics to be worked out.”
“That sucks.”
“Yep. CJ and I are just biding our time in this house until I can sell it and move somewhere I’ll be able to afford on my own.” I shrugged. “The one good thing about Charles cheating is he still pays the mortgage. Guilt I assume.”
Trace’s lips twisted. “CJ’s never once mentioned him.”
“His dad?”
Trace nodded.
“That’s what happens when you move an hour away from your son and barely call him or come by to take him out.”
“Someday he’ll realize he missed out.”
I stepped away from the counter and rolled my eyes. “Would you look at me? I shouldn’t be unloading on you like this. I’m sorry.”
“You can unload on me anytime you want.”
I laughed. “Oh, yeah. That’s what all college guys say. Right before they hand you another red cup and lead you somewhere quiet to talk.”
He grinned and his damn dimples dug in. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m serious.”
I cocked my head. “When I was in college, my biggest problem was deciding which frat party to go to on Saturday night. I assume your problems are pretty similar.”
He shook his head. “Football’s a huge stressor for me. If I have any chance of going pro, there’s no room for failure. I need to stay in shape, know the plays, and work my ass off. And while I may frequent the occasional party, I need to keep my eye on the prize.”
“Which is?”
“Winning.” His blue eyes moved over my face. “At all costs.”
A shiver raced up my spine. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not just talking about football?”
His lips twitched. “I like being good at everything I do.”
Gah. Why was everything out of his mouth so damn sexy? My mind instantly flashed to dirty places.
I was going to hell. I was going straight. To. Hell.
Trace pushed off the counter. I tipped my head back to look at him as he stood in front of me. “Thanks for lunch.”
“Anytime.”
He stared down at me for a moment longer, then moved toward the front door and called upstairs. “See you tomorrow, CJ.”
“Bye, Trace. Thanks for playing with me,” CJ called.
Trace glanced to me. “You raised a hell of a kid.”
“Yeah. I did, didn’t I?”
His soft laughter followed him out the front door.
CHAPTER FOUR
Marin
Basketball at Trace’s house became one of CJ’s favorite activities. I felt bad, given football was Trace’s sport, but he didn’t say a word, doing whatever CJ wanted.
I finished making lunch and walked down to join them. When I neared Trace’s house, CJ shot baskets alone. An unfamiliar car sat idling at the end of the driveway while Trace leaned in the passenger window talking to the driver. I wondered how long CJ had been playing alone.
“Hey, buddy,” I called to CJ as I walked over.
Trace yanked his head from the window and stood up quickly, stepping back from the car.
CJ’s smile eased my fears and he bounced me the ball. “You shoot it, Mom.”
I caught it before my eyes wandered to the car. The slightest tinge of jealousy formed in my stomach when I spotted the pretty brunette behind the steering wheel. I turned away from whatever I’d interrupted and shot the ball from where I stood. The damn thing bounced off the rim.
Great one, Marin.
I had no reason to be jealous—or angry for that matter. Trace didn’t ask to be a stand-in for CJ’s father. I’d cornered him. Put him on the spot. He had a life, and I was in no position to impede on that. I hadn’t thought it through. I’d asked on a whim, and now I’d given him a role he never asked for. A role that would end when he returned to school, leaving CJ in the dust. I hadn’t considered there was an expiration date to this deal. I’d never considered CJ would become so attached.
I forced a smile as I watched CJ run after my rebound. The smile slipped off my face at the sight of Janine Forester standing in the front window, her eyes narrowed on mine.
“See you later, Mel,” Trace said, snatching my attention from his mother just as his friend’s car pulled away.
“She didn’t have to leave,” I said, giving indifference my best attempt.
CJ passed Trace the ball. He caught it and shrugged. “She just wanted to say hey.” He shot from quite a distance away and sank it effortlessly.
I watched CJ run to retrieve it, glancing to the window where Janine no longer peered out. I stood there in the driveway, unsure what to say. I suddenly felt like an intruder at Trace’s house. “Come on, buddy,” I said to CJ. “Time to head home. Lunch awaits.”
“I’m not invited?” Trace asked.
My eyes cut to his. “I thought you had work.”
He shook his head. “Not tonight.”
* * *
Lights from the television
flashed over CJ’s sleeping body on the rug in my dim living room. I glanced to Trace stretched out on the sofa watching the end of the movie CJ insisted he watch with us after lunch. To an outsider, the scene in my living room would’ve looked so normal. But for me, I needed to remind myself this wasn’t my family.
Once the credits rolled, Trace sat up and looked to me on the love seat. “That knocked him out,” he whispered.
“You knocked him out,” I said just as softly. “He’s never had so much exercise in his life.”
He laughed. “Hey. A deal’s a deal.”
“Well, thanks. It means so much to him.”
“Just him?”
I cocked my head. “I figured that went without saying.”
“It’s always nice to hear how amazing I am.”
I laughed. “And you’re humble.”
His shoulders shook with laughter. “That is definitely not something I’ve ever been called.” He pushed himself to his feet, his height imposing as he stood in the middle of my living room. “I’ve gotta head out.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you here.”
“You didn’t keep me here, Marin. I only do what I wanna do.”
I nodded, standing and walking him around a sleeping CJ to the door. “So, where you headed?”
He hesitated for a second before he pulled open my front door, the early evening air a stark contrast to the central air in my house. “I’ve got a date.”
An unexpected bout of disappointment washed over me. “With the girl in the car?” I asked, trying to sound unfazed, though the lack of control I had over my emotions these days was becoming unsettling.
He stepped outside, turning back to face me. “Yeah.”
I exhaled an envious breath. It had been so long since I’d been on a date. Dinners with Charles had always been with either CJ or with clients. Never the two of us alone laughing and having a good time. “I’m sorry.” I shook my head, suddenly aware that I’d been prying. “It’s none of my business.”
“Sure it is. You should know who I hang out with in case I bring her around CJ.”
The whole idea of there being someone he’d want to bring around CJ suddenly sucked. “You two go to school together?”
He shook his head. “Mel couldn’t get into college if her daddy was the dean.”
