For Forester (For You #2)

by J. Nathan

  “That’s what Mom said, too.”

  I laughed to myself. It was killing me to miss his games. I wanted to be there for him. Wanted to be there for Marin. It had been two weeks since his first day of school. Since I’d seen them in person. And every day was getting more and more difficult.

  Caden rounded the corner and stared at me with furrowed brows. What had he heard?

  “Well, I just wanted to tell you the good news,” CJ said.

  “Okay. Thanks.” I wanted to ask to talk to Marin, but the way Caden was watching me, I didn’t want to open myself up to questions. I had a big mouth for a mother. I kept my personal shit to myself. Good or bad, it was mine to tell.

  Marin

  Trace ran down the field in Tennessee on Saturday afternoon, nabbing an amazing pass over his head on the thirty yard line. CJ and I leapt off the sofa screaming and jumping up and down as Trace ran with a group of opponents on his tail past the twenty-five yard line...the twenty...the fifteen...the ten...the five...and right into the end zone.

  Even though they were in enemy territory in Tennessee, the crowd still erupted. Trace spiked the ball into the end zone as his teammates jumped all over him.

  I stood there staring at him on television. I was so incredibly proud of him. Not to mention hot and bothered. I’d seen him naked. I’d touched him in every place imaginable. I’d had him inside me. Now he was this larger-than-life superstar on television elating the entire state of Alabama.

  My attention moved to CJ who danced around the living room with his hands in the air shaking his little butt around. It was adorable. I recorded him and sent it off to Trace so he’d see it as soon as he returned to the locker room. I dropped down onto the sofa, so eager for the offense to be back on the field so I could see him again.

  A couple hours later, I was snuggled on the sofa having already put CJ to bed when Trace’s name appeared on my phone. Those same anxious butterflies I got every time he called fluttered wildly. I tried to be quiet but I couldn’t contain my excitement as I answered the phone. “Hi.”

  “So what’d you think?” he asked.

  “You were amazing.”

  He laughed. “See? What have I been telling you?”

  I chuckled at his unyielding ego. “Did you get the video?”

  “Yeah. It was awesome.”

  “He was so proud of you,” I assured him.

  “He the only one?”

  I rolled my eyes at my empty room. “No.”

  His voice lowered to the same deep tenor he used when we were in bed. “Did it turn you on?”

  Shivers rushed up my legs as visions of him in those tight pants and body-hugging shirt that gripped his biceps flooded my brain. “And then some.”

  There was background noise on his end and then silence. Was someone there? His roommate? A girl? “Can I call you later?” he whispered.

  The sudden halt to our conversation filled me with nervousness. “Yeah. Of course.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay,” I echoed.

  When he disconnected the call, an uneasy pit formed in my stomach. He’d called as soon as he could which meant he was thinking of me, so why the quick brush off? Who was there with him? Why couldn’t he talk in front of them? I’d never considered Trace would cheat on me. But then again, I’d never expected Charles would either.

  It had been so much easier when Trace and I could see each other. And sleep next to each other. And love each other.

  Love?

  Shit.

  Trace

  “Who were you talking to?” Caden asked as he stepped out of the bathroom. The steam from his second shower of the night billowed out into our hotel room.

  I tucked my phone into my pocket and got comfortable on my bed. “A friend.”

  “Same friend you were talking to in the bookstore the other day?”

  “Fuck off.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m hitting the gym later so you can call whoever it was back.”

  “Is that what you and Finlay are calling it this year?” I asked.

  “Dude, we really were in the gym last year.”

  “I thought it was the pool?” I said, trying to push his buttons.

  “Fine. And the pool.”

  “Actually...it’s not where you were I’m doubting. It’s what you were doing.”

  He laughed.

  Truth be told. I was only busting his balls out of jealousy. His girlfriend traveled with the team. He got to see her whenever he wanted. I didn’t have that luxury and it was beginning to suck.

  When Caden left a couple hours later, I slipped out my phone. It was late, but I promised to call Marin back, so I wanted to at least text her. My thumbs went to work on the screen. I need to see you again.

  It took a minute, but the dots indicating she was typing popped up. I need to see you again too.

  I smiled, practically hearing her raspy voice. I’ll try to come home soon.

  I’ll be here.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Marin

  I tucked my laptop into my bag at the end of my career counseling class on Friday, waiting as the professor walked around the classroom returning our first test. I felt confident. My essay covered all the main points and my answers for the multiple choice and short answers came easily. Maybe the juggling act I’d been pulling off wouldn’t be as difficult as I thought it would be.

  When he placed the test down on my desk, my heart dropped. I checked the name to be sure it belonged to me because the number scrolled across the top in red ink, the one that looked a whole lot like a sixty-five, could not be mine.

  Dammit.

  I’d studied for the test for hours, neglecting CJ and things around the house. I’d been up all night. Reviewing my notes. Quizzing myself. What the hell had happened?

  My attention lifted to my professor’s disappointed eyes. I wanted to tell him no one was more disappointed than me. But why bother? I clearly wasn’t cut out for the graduate program. The time off had hurt me—in more ways than one.

  I ripped the test off the desk and threw my bag over my shoulder, dashing out of the classroom before I broke down in front of my classmates.

  When I got to my car, I threw my bag in the backseat, not caring that half the contents rolled out onto the floor. I still needed to get home to begin writing an essay for my group counseling class that was due on Monday. But how the hell was I going to research and write on a topic when I felt so inadequate? Not to mention CJ had football practice and a game, and I needed to go grocery shopping, clean the house, and do laundry.

  I buried my face in my hands. “Shiiiit.”

  After pulling it together, I picked up CJ from school and threw some waffles in the toaster. Breakfast for dinner was going to have to do. I hurried to the laundry room and dug through the clothes in the dryer that I hadn’t had time to fold, pulling out his practice uniform.

  I sat in the stands at his practice, highlighting portions of chapter five in my book and making notes in the margins, hoping once I got home and CJ was tucked in bed, I could gather enough information to write my essay. Juggling school, work, CJ, his activities, a long distance relationship, and an asshole ex was getting more and more difficult.

  Something had to give.

  My phone vibrated on the bleacher beside me. I picked it up and found a text from Jerry. Need you to come by my office tomorrow at noon.

  * * *

  My foot bounced as I sat in Jerry’s small Main Street office. His law degrees hung in mismatched frames on the wall behind his head. “You made it clear I wasn’t calling off the divorce, right?”

  “Yes, they know.”

  “Well, then what’s going on? I’m barely asking for anything. And he’s the one who cheated.”

  “His infidelity has already been established,” Jerry said, pulling off his reading glasses and placing them down on the stack of papers on his desk. “I’m sorry to do this to you, Marin.”

  “Do what?” I asked.


  “His legal team is questioning if there was infidelity on your part.”

  My eyes flared. “Like hell there was.”

  “They’re saying they have proof.”

  “What proof? Trace and I started dating this summer. Charles and I had already been separated for months with absolutely no possibility of reconciliation.”

  Jerry shrugged. “His lawyers say they have proof and if we don’t agree to their terms, they’re going to the media.”

  The lines in my forehead deepened. “The media?”

  “I assume Charles thinks it’ll tarnish Trace’s reputation. You know, dating a married woman and all.”

  My mouth hung open. “He wouldn’t.”

  “I’m afraid they’ve drawn up his demands.”

  Rage flooded my body. “His demands?”

  Jerry nodded. “I’m sorry, Marin. But since you wouldn’t call off the divorce, he’s ready to play dirty.”

  “But why? He didn’t want me.”

  “Marin.” Jerry’s face softened, clearly understanding something I didn’t. “You’ve made him look replaceable. Foolish even by dating someone younger. Better looking. A soon-to-be pro athlete. That wouldn’t sit well with any man.”

  “Because he’s jealous, he thinks he think he can threaten me?”

  “I’m not sure his lawyers would call it threatening. They’d spin it to be in the best interest of CJ.”

  I shook my head. “He knows I’ll never allow Trace to be hurt in this.”

  “That’s exactly what he’s banking on. He’s forcing your hand.”

  I pulled in a deep breath. “But why? What does he want?”

  “Physical custody.”

  It was as if the air was punched out of my lungs. “What?”

  “If you don’t break off your relationship.”

  My heart walloped erratically in my chest. “Can he even do that?”

  “I’m afraid he can demand whatever he wants. And I’m sure he sees it as he’s giving you the choice. Either you choose your son or your relationship.”

  I scoffed, as my eyes drifted to the only window in Jerry’s office trying to hold back my tears. “He’s such a thoughtful guy.”

  “I’m sorry, Marin,” Jerry said.

  “You didn’t do this. He did.”

  * * *

  I stared out the kitchen window watching CJ swing on his swing set after dinner. My eyes were puffy and my face blotchy from all the crying I’d been doing since leaving Jerry’s office. I was a mess. My life was a mess. And I had absolutely no idea what I was going to do. Or how I was going to fix it.

  An unexpected knock on my front door had me moving toward it. I reached the foyer and pulled it open. Trace’s mother, Janine, stood on my front step. Sudden fear swept over me. “Is Trace okay?”

  “He’s fine,” she said, giving my sweat pants and T-shirt a condescending once over. “May I come in?”

  I stepped aside and she brushed by me, her eyes assessing my books strewn all over the coffee table and my opened laptop on the sofa. “Don’t mind the mess. I’ve got an essay due Monday and a test on Tuesday.” I hurried to the sofa and picked up my laptop so she could sit. “Have a seat.”

  She shook her head. “This won’t take long.”

  My brows shot up. “Oh?”

  “I want you to end things with Trace.”

  I choked on a laugh. Had she been speaking to Charles? She always did like him better than me.

  “You think I’m joking?” Janine asked.

  I shrugged. “I couldn’t possibly know what you’re thinking.”

  “I don’t want him on campus preoccupied with you and your son. He has school and football to focus on.”

  “We know that.”

  “Don’t tell me what my son knows,” she spat.

  I bit down on my bottom lip, stopping myself from telling her what I really thought of her.

  “Do you think you’re being fair to him?” she asked. “He’s got his whole life ahead of him. You’ve lived yours.”

  “I’m twenty-nine.”

  “And he’s still a kid. He doesn’t need to be strapped down to a woman who’s looking for a daddy for her child.”

  I gasped. “That’s not what I’m doing. CJ has a father. An asshole, but a father nonetheless.”

  “Be reasonable. Trace deserves all the experiences you’ve already had.” She began to pace, her eyes averting mine. “He deserves to make it to the pros with no regrets. He deserves to find a girl his own age. He deserves to propose and get married. He deserves to buy a house and have a child.” Her eyes shot back to mine. “You’ve had your experiences. Your firsts. He deserves to as well.”

  I stood frozen to my spot. As much as I hated his mother, and hated hearing her fears, I suddenly understood them. CJ was Trace in fourteen years. What would I do if he was trying to create a future with some woman with a kid? A woman with an ex who was determined to make her life hell? Trace did deserve all those things. Starting fresh with someone his age did make sense. And for once, Janine Forester and I agreed on something.

  “I can see you understand my concerns,” she said, watching my internal battle play out across my face. She had no idea the real cause of my struggle. The real reason I was even considering her concerns. “Trace is blind when it comes to you and your son. He isn’t seeing how ridiculous this relationship is.”

  Her lack of empathy toward me or my feelings felt like a knife plunging into my already battered heart.

  “You’re the adult. You need to end it. I know my son. He’s loyal and wouldn’t desert you.”

  Tears stung my eyes as she turned and walked out my front door without another word. Deep down I already knew what I needed to do. I didn’t need her to tell me.

  That night, as I lay in bed, Trace’s unanswered calls and texts kept popping up on my screen. I miss you.

  Where are you?

  Call me.

  Is something wrong?

  Is CJ ok?

  Are you ok?

  I couldn’t respond. Because I wasn’t okay.

  I needed time to think. Time to breathe. Time to consider my next move very carefully.

  I had everything to lose.

  Damn Charles for putting me in this situation. Damn him for forcing me to make a decision that would break two hearts. And damn Janine for giving me an excuse.

  I’m coming home tomorrow night.

  I gasped as Trace’s next text appeared on my screen. That was too soon. I wasn’t ready to face him. I needed to be sure. I needed to be certain I’d explored every possible option first. I needed to hold him off for just a little while longer. Sorry. I won’t be home.

  His text came immediately. I’ll wait.

  I switched off my phone and tossed it onto the nightstand.

  Ignoring him had been a temporary fix. I knew Trace well enough to know some unanswered texts and calls wouldn’t deter him—or buy me enough time for what I inevitably needed to do.

  * * *

  The persistent knocking on my front door the following night did not elicit the normal butterflies, but a stomach-clenching fear. I walked slowly toward the door, thankful my parents had taken CJ for the night.

  I sucked in a deep breath and pulled open the door. Everything happened so fast. Trace’s hands cupped my cheeks as he pinned me to the wall, slamming the door shut with his foot as his mouth covered mine. His tongue plunged inside, determinedly exploring my mouth as if starved for my taste. I didn’t want to resist. I wanted to get lost in his kiss. In the feel of his body pressed against mine. In his presence in my empty house. In him. But I couldn’t. I dropped my hands to his chest and pushed with every bit of strength I could muster. He didn’t budge, if anything he kissed me deeper and harder.

  Inevitably, he needed to catch his breath as badly as I did. He stepped back from me. Both our chests heaved as we stared across the space between us. Our need for each other practically crackled in the silence. I would’ve given anythi
ng to race back into his arms. To get lost in his touch.

  His lips slipped into a cocky grin as his eyes drank me in. “Next time you think about ignoring me, be prepared for my wrath. Were you trying to drive me crazy?”

  I shook my head.

  “Well, you did.”

  A right hook to my face would have felt better than the way I felt seeing him in front of me looking like he missed me as much as I missed him. Like he wanted me naked and compliant. My eyes swerved away from his.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I begrudgingly looked back to him. “Come sit down.”

  “I wanna take you out.”

  I dropped down onto the sofa, my elbows resting on my knees and my fingers wringing in front of me. “Where? Some college bar?”

  His eyes narrowed from where he stood. “What?”

  “Or some party where people’ll think I’m someone’s mother? Oh, that’s right. I am.”

  “That doesn’t happen and you know it.”

  “Do I?” I shook my head, tears glazing my vision. “I won’t say I don’t care about you, because I do.”

  He dropped down beside me. “Marin, what’s going on?”

  I stared down at my wringing hands, unable to look at him. “I can’t give you what a girl your age can,” I said, knowing my words held the smallest shred of truth.

  “Of course you can. Where the hell’s this even coming from?”

  I closed my eyes, needing to see this through to the end. “I’ve already had the experiences you’ve yet to have. I don’t want to hold you back. I want you to get your dream of playing in the pros. I want you to meet a girl you want to spend the rest of your life with.” My stomach roiled at the vision of him in a tux and some beautiful girl beaming next to him at the altar. “I want you to buy your first house.” It became more and more difficult to keep my voice steady and tears from spilling down my cheeks. “And I want you to fill that house with little kids because you’re gonna make an amazing dad someday.”

  “Why are you telling me what I may think in the future? All I care about is how I feel right now. And right now I can’t get enough of you.”

  I forced my eyes to look at him. “It’s for the best.”

  His face scrunched incredulously. “Whose best?”