For Forester (For You #2)

by J. Nathan

  Is there any other kind?

  I laughed, picturing her snuggled up on her comfy sofa with a bottle of beer the douchebag wouldn’t let her drink. Or better yet, in her bed with a bottle of whipped cream on her nightstand, just waiting to be used. Well thx for remembering.

  There was a long pause. I knew I’d left Sabrina alone in my room, but I felt compelled to give Marin two more minutes. My heart bounced around in my chest. I didn’t want to be excited. I didn’t want to feel anything. I had a willing girl—at least I thought she was willing—in my room waiting for me. Another text popped up. You off sowing your wild oats?

  I scoffed at the irony. Was trying to. You just interrupted.

  There was another long pause.

  Did I want her to think I’d moved on? Did I want to hurt her the way she’d hurt me? I miss my little buddy.

  He misses you too.

  I drew a deep breath and let my drunk-ass speak for me. I miss my girl.

  There was a long pause before Marin’s words popped up. Enjoy your night, Trace.

  Disappointment filled me as I stared at her words. There was nothing more to say. She always seemed to have the last word. And for some reason, her last words always sucked.

  A knock on the bathroom door sent my eyes jumping to it. “Forester? You okay in there?”

  Fuck.

  I shoved my phone into my pocket and stood from the tub, scrubbing my hands up and down my face. Get it together and get her naked. I opened the door to find Sabrina standing there looking all cute and willing. Her blonde hair reminded me of Marin’s. The coy smile on her face made me see Marin’s.

  Shit. Fuck. Dammit.

  I walked over to the foot of my bed and dropped down. “Come sit.”

  Sabrina hesitated, observing me as she stood there. I must’ve looked like a drunken mess as I patted the spot beside me. She walked over and sat.

  I twisted to face her, inhaling the scent of something fruity. I was used to Marin’s faint lavender scent. It always made being around her feel like home. Fuck. “I just got a text from someone I dated this summer.”

  Sabrina stared at me, confusion etched in her features. “Okay?”

  “She broke it off once I got back here.”

  “Wow. I’m surprised she broke it off. You’re not exactly known for monogamy.”

  “I didn’t cheat on her if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  She shook her head. “Just stating the facts.”

  “Well, she’s different.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yes, we’re all different. That’s what makes things interesting.”

  “No. I mean she’s older and she thinks she’s holding me back.” I left out the CJ part since I’d already admitted way more than I would’ve if I wasn’t drunk off my ass.

  Sabrina tipped her head. “Hate to state the obvious yet again, Forester, but she kinda just did hold you back.”

  “Bullshit,” I said, calling her bluff.

  She shrugged coyly. “I guess you’ll never know.”

  I snickered. “Yeah, well I’m starting to think that’s a good thing.”

  Stunned by my honesty, Sabrina shoved my arm. “Thanks a lot.”

  “No, I meant if we hooked up, we wouldn’t be talking like this.”

  “Yeah,” she sassed. “That’s kinda the point.”

  I laughed. So did she. I liked Sabrina. I liked her enough not to let anything happen. “I want you as a friend.”

  “Said no guy to me ever.”

  I didn’t doubt it. “Yeah, but now we can dance at the bar with no awkwardness hanging over us. And—”

  “There’s more?”

  I smirked. “Just think how good I’ll make you look out there.”

  “You’re a conceited bastard,” she said.

  “It’s a curse.”

  “And the more I get to know you, you’re cheesiness is kind of annoying. So, maybe you’re right.”

  “I’m always right—wait. Did you call me cheesy?”

  She rolled her eyes. She liked me. And I liked knowing she did. “So what are you gonna do?” she asked.

  Unable to sit upright any longer, I fell back onto my bed. “About what?”

  Sabrina reclined beside me. “This girl. She’s obviously still into you.”

  I turned my head to look at her. “What makes you say that?”

  Her head fell toward mine. “She texted you as soon as your birthday hit. You said she’s older. Maybe she was waiting for the dreaded teen to be dropped from your age.”

  Was she right? Was Marin waiting? Was she realizing CJ needed me in his life? Was she opening the door for us again?

  Sabrina stared at me, watching my eyes closely. “You’re clearly still into her, Forester. There’s only one way to find out for sure if she’s still into you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Trace

  As I pulled off the interstate and made my way toward my neighborhood, I questioned if I was making the right decision. I had no clue what I even planned to say. I just knew I needed to see with my own two eyes if Marin was having regrets.

  The black sedan that had been driving in front of me pulled into Marin’s driveway beside an unfamiliar red SUV. I slowed to a stop two houses away. The neighborhood was quiet for a Sunday afternoon. But my eyes still shot around, hoping no one saw me sitting there like a whacked out stalker.

  The douchebag stepped out of the sedan and strolled up the walkway. I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, my heart pounding in tandem with his footsteps as he moved to the front door.

  Were they back together?

  I breathed a small sigh of relief when he knocked on the door, clearly not having a key. The door swung open and CJ stood there smiling. His dad patted him on the top of the head, visibly too uncomfortable to hug his own son. Douchebag. What I assumed to be Marin’s mother stepped into the doorway. She stepped back, welcoming him into their home. But where was Marin? Was she inside getting dinner started? Were they one big happy family again?

  That was all I needed to see to know her call had been nothing but the obligatory birthday call.

  Happy fucking birthday to me.

  And even if I thought it was the hugest mistake in her life to get back with him, it was her mistake to make. I just wasn’t gonna stick around to watch it happen. Once the door closed behind them, I reversed the hell out of there like the chump I clearly was.

  I was about to drive past my parents’ house when I slowed to a stop. If my mother knew I’d been in town on my birthday and hadn’t stopped to see her, I would’ve never heard the end of it. Cursing, I pulled into the driveway.

  “Trace? What are you doing home?” my mother asked as I walked into the kitchen where she and my dad were eating Sunday dinner. “Happy birthday.”

  “Thanks. Where’s my cake?” I teased as I leaned down and kissed her cheek.

  She laughed as she jumped up and grabbed me a plate, piling it with food. “I would’ve made one had I known you were coming home.”

  My dad smiled as I leaned down and hugged him. “Good to have you home, Trace. Happy birthday.”

  I pulled out a chair and dropped into it. “Thanks.”

  “So?” my mother persisted as she set the plate down in front of me and slipped back into her seat. “What brings you home?”

  “Can’t a guy just come home to see his parents?”

  “So, you came to see them?” she said.

  I shrugged. “It didn’t matter. They had company.”

  “I’m sure they did,” she said, like she already knew.

  “I get it. He’s there all the time. They’re back together. Great.”

  “Tell him!” my father’s stern voice silenced the room.

  My wide eyes shot to him. I’d never heard him speak to my mother that way before. My eyes shifted to hers.

  She tucked her lips. She didn’t want to tell me. For once in her damn life she didn’t want to gossip.

  My heart began
to race. What the hell did she know? “Tell me.”

  She stared at my father, huffing her frustration. “Fine.” She looked to me. “Her ex has been blackmailing her.”

  I tilted my ear in her direction, hoping I’d heard her wrong. “Come again?”

  She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. “According to Felicia, he was going to try to ruin your name by going to the press about your affair with a married woman. I guess he wanted you to suffer from bad publicity, knowing some teams wouldn’t be interested in drafting you if you came with negative press.”

  “That son of a bitch.” I shoved my chair back and jumped to my feet, my head spinning and my rage at its peak.

  “Sit down,” my mother demanded.

  “Are you kidding me? I’m going over there.”

  “There’s more,” she said.

  More? I slowly lowered myself back into the chair.

  “He threatened to fight for physical custody of their son if she didn’t end it with you.”

  My teeth ground together, the reality of her situation rushing at me all at once. “That’s why she broke it off.”

  “She’s been protecting you and her son,” my father explained.

  Holy. Shit. A sober laugh shot out of me as I looked to my mother. “You finally keep your mouth shut about something and it’s something that affects me?” My voice rose. “I should have been the first person you told! What the hell is wrong with you?”

  My mother straightened her spine and set her chin in place, as if she had every right to conceal the truth. “I didn’t want you risking everything for her. I didn’t want you to be her savior and not care about your career. Not care that your name could be ruined.”

  I scoffed at the ridiculousness. “I’m not scared of bad press. My skills speak for themselves. No team’s gonna pass up a chance at having me because of who I date. Don’t you watch the news? Haven’t you seen what some athletes have done and they’re still able to play?”

  “But they’re not my son,” she said.

  I sat for a long time, my mind reeling. Had our age difference never really been a factor? Had her saying she wanted someone consistent in CJ’s life been a lie? Was everything Marin fed me only to protect me and CJ? “Was it so hard for you to let me be happy?” I asked my mother.

  “It wasn’t about happiness,” she said. “It was about your future.”

  “Marin and CJ were my future. Don’t you get that?”

  She balked.

  “Trace,” my father interrupted. “All Marin’s efforts were for naught. He’s fighting for physical custody anyway.”

  “What?”

  “I ran into her lawyer downtown yesterday. He mentioned the hell she’s been going through.”

  “You didn’t tell me that,” my mother chided.

  He glanced to her. “Even I know not to tell you everything.” He looked back to me. “He said she’s staying strong. And he thinks they’ve got a strong enough case to ensure she maintains custody.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked him.

  “I just found out yesterday, and honestly? I know you, Trace. I know you would’ve barged over there and potentially made matters worse for her. Give her time. She’s handled it this far on her own.”

  “Yeah, but that’s the thing.” I glared at my mother. “She shouldn’t have had to handle it alone.” I looked back to my father. “I should’ve been there.”

  My father nodded, understanding my frustration. “It takes a hell of a woman to protect her man. Or in this case, both of them. Just let her divorce go through. Let her win custody of her son. Then make her see that we Foresters don’t go down without a fight.”

  * * *

  I lay on my bed tossing a football above my head. I had a paper to write for sports medicine, but my head had been too fucked up since returning to campus to actually attempt it.

  What was I supposed to do now that I knew why Marin really broke things off?

  It was one thing to protect her son, but I was no good at sitting back and letting her protect me. My father was right. If I confronted Marin’s ex, it could ruin everything she’d been doing to protect CJ. I’d been serious when I told my parents I didn’t care about the press. Marin and I were both in our twenties now. Big fucking deal we started dating when I was nineteen and she was separated. Shit happens. But I wouldn’t risk her losing CJ. He was her world.

  But now I was starting to believe that there was a possibility that I just might’ve been part of her world, too.

  * * *

  I ran to the sideline on Saturday afternoon. It was a scorcher with the sun beating down on the field like it was August. And, had we not been playing another southern school, we would’ve had the advantage being used to the high temps even in November. The home crowd was exceptionally loud thanks to my back-to-back touchdowns that gave us an early lead.

  Finlay tossed me a water bottle as I dropped onto the bench after my second touchdown. I thought my game would suck after learning the real reason I’d been dumped, but the exact opposite happened. I exploded out there. Maybe it was because I had a sliver of hope now. Maybe it was because I knew I didn’t do anything wrong. Maybe it was because I knew Marin still cared about me.

  By fourth quarter we were up by twenty-one and had possession of the ball. Caden called my favorite play. The one that would undoubtedly replay on Sportscenter all night long.

  On the snap, I took off running to the forty-yard line, then I cut across the center of the field, causing Georgia’s defensive backs to zigzag across the field to try to stop me. The ball came within sight, I leapt up, nabbed it with one hand, and took off running. It took nothing for me to outrun them, taking it into the end zone to the eruption of the crowd.

  Man that felt good.

  After my shower, I packed up my stuff and headed toward the locker room exit. When I passed Coach’s office, he called me inside. He gestured to the chair in front of him. “Sit.”

  I sat.

  “You looked good out there today.”

  I lifted a brow. “Are you saying there have been games I didn’t look good?”

  He shook his head, amused by my usual cockiness. He knew I did it to be funny. He was one of the few people who understood how much football meant to me and how seriously I took the game. “Are you heading over to the booster event?”

  Shit. “That’s tonight?”

  He nodded.

  “Is it mandatory that we go?”

  He stared back at me, his eyes all the confirmation I needed.

  “Fine.”

  “Look at it this way. The boosters are going to want to see the star of today’s game,” he said, knowing flattery would get him everywhere.

  I laughed. “How long do I need to stay?”

  “As long as it takes to shake all their hands and act like you want to be there. They do a lot for this team.”

  “I know, Coach. I’ll be there.”

  * * *

  My fucking hand was about to fall off. I’d shaken every hand in the place. And there were hundreds. To be honest, it wasn’t so bad to be told repeatedly how amazing I was.

  I stood in the corner of the room discussing the game with Graham Oliver, a booster who lived and breathed Alabama football. An older man approached us, his hand outstretched to me. “Phillip Caster.”

  “Nice to meet you, Sir,” I said, shaking his hand as Graham excused himself.

  “Those were some great catches today.”

  I shrugged. “All in a day’s work.”

  He laughed. “So, where’re you hoping to go in the draft?” he asked.

  “First, of course.”

  He laughed again. “No, which team?”

  I buried my hands in the pockets of my khaki dress pants. “It’d be an honor to play for any team in the league. Obviously, I wouldn’t mind staying close to home, but in the end I wanna go to the team that wants me and wants to win.”

  Amusement shone in his eyes. “Ever
the diplomat. It’s good you learned that early on. You’re gonna need it to deal with the press.”

  I shrugged.

  “I learned from my time in the courtroom—”

  “You’re a lawyer?”

  He shook his head. “Judge.”

  “In Alabama?”

  He grinned at my sudden intrigue. “Yes. You having legal troubles, son?”

  “A friend of mine is.”

  “Anything I can do to help?” he asked.

  “I sure hope so.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Marin

  Jerry and I sat on one side of the long wooden table in a small deliberation room at the courthouse. Charles and his two lawyers, one on either side of him, sat on the opposite side. They spoke to each other in whispers, as if strategizing. It was likely they were just trying to intimidate Jerry and me who sat there silently. I hadn’t seen or spoken to Charles since that night in my living room. And once he somehow managed to rush our divorce proceedings, my parents served as our go between—which was fine by me.

  I folded my hands on the table in front of me. They trembled so wildly I pulled them back and placed them in my lap. The future depended on whatever happened in that room. Whoever the judge sided with.

  We all stood as the judge, a middle-aged man with gray hair, entered the room. I glanced to Charles and his lawyers, watching the shock play out across their faces.

  Once we sat back down, Charles’ lead counsel spoke. “Excuse me, your Honor, but I thought Judge Thompson was overseeing these proceedings.”

  The judge smiled, though I wondered what he really thought of being questioned. “Sorry to disappoint, but with Thanksgiving tomorrow, Judge Thompson left early to avoid all the holiday traffic. I hope that won’t be a problem for you?”

  Charles’ lawyer shook his head, but I caught the worried look he gave Charles and the other lawyer.

  The judge requested that we discuss the distribution of our assets first. Surprisingly, Jerry and Charles’ lawyers were able to come to an agreement that everything would be split fairly between us. And, contingent upon the results of our custody dispute, Charles agreed to hold off selling the house until CJ finished school at the end of the year.