CHAPTER TWENTY

Marin

We pulled into the stadium parking lot and followed the path the parking attendants directed us toward. CJ was practically bouncing out of his booster seat as I found our spot in the back of the crowded lot and turned off the ignition.

I closed my eyes for a long moment, inhaling a much-needed deep breath. I’d barely eaten all week. My stomach churned with nausea one minute then filled with anxious butterflies the next. Sure, I’d watched Trace’s games on television, but being there, in seats he’d set aside for us, set my nerves on edge.

“You okay, Mom?”

My eyes snapped open. “Yep. Fine.” I glanced over my shoulder at CJ. “Ready?” I laughed as his door flew open and he unbuckled himself. I met him at his open door, grabbed his hand, and we were off.

We fit in with the rest of the crowd hurrying toward the entrance in our Alabama T-shirts. I obviously didn’t wear the shirt I’d made for Trace, not wanting him to read into it. Though, I highly doubted he cared what I did anymore. Remembering what he said about girls painting his number on their cheeks, I’d painted it on CJ’s cheeks in white paint. I’d forgone the paint and opted for comfort, torn skinny jeans and flip-flops.

Once we stepped into the stadium, it was entirely different from the last time we’d been there. The once vacant seats were filled with a sea of red. The noise reverberated around the stadium creating an almost electric buzz. Thankfully, I’d brought earplugs for CJ. The noise was way too loud for his little ears to endure.

We found our usher standing at the start of our section and followed him down the steep concrete steps. Each time I thought he planned to stop to point us to our seats, he just kept descending until we’d stopped at the first row behind the bench. My stomach dipped at the sight of the players on the field, my eyes instantly searching for Trace’s number eighty-two jersey. We’d definitely see him in those seats, and he’d undoubtedly see us.

I glanced around at all the anxious fans filling the massive stadium. Trace had been right about all the girls with his number painted on their cheeks. But he hadn’t mentioned the signs with various messages to him. By the looks of it, you’d think he was already in the pros.

“There he is,” CJ yelled, pointing out at the field.

Trace tossed the football with his quarterback and roommate, Caden Brooks. He looked so at home out there on the field. In his uniform. In his element. He caught a pass and when he pulled his arm back to throw the ball, his eyes snagged on us.

CJ jumped around, waving his arms in the air like a little maniac. I laughed at his excitement as Trace lifted his hand and waved, a smile spreading across his face. My body quivered as his eyes shifted to mine. I quickly leaned down and whispered something to CJ, anything to avert my gaze from Trace’s.

Before long, the game began and Trace had an amazing first half. And even though he hadn’t scored a touchdown, he already had eighty receiving yards, which was quite impressive. He looked so confident out there. The way he ran. The way he caught passes so effortlessly. The field was where he belonged. He was born to play football. That I could see clearly now.

At half time, CJ and I shared a huge container of popcorn. He was having so much fun, it was literally breaking my heart to know that could’ve been our life with Trace. That could’ve been our reality—if Charles hadn’t interfered and Janine hadn’t gotten into my head.

I glanced around at all the fans. All the pretty girls. Trace could have any one of them. And the notion turned my stomach.

I was doing the right thing. I just wished it didn’t hurt so badly.

The second half of the game began, and within the first two minutes, Trace caught a thirty-yard pass and ran the remaining length of the field. CJ and I were on our feet with the rest of the crowd cheering as Trace dodged around his opponents and took it to the end zone for a touchdown. The stadium roared. But instead of spiking the ball in the end zone as we’d seen him do on television, he turned with the ball and ran toward the sideline. Ignoring everyone who approached to congratulate him, he headed directly toward us.

My eyes widened and my stomach dropped to my feet. Trace stopped in front of us, reaching up and handing CJ the ball. The fans around us cheered as I just about melted to my spot.

Beneath his helmet, Trace’s eyes cut to mine and he winked before turning back to the field and celebrating with his teammates.

“Trace gave me the ball,” CJ said, hugging the ball to his chest.

People around us patted CJ on the back. You’d have thought he’d won a million bucks given the way he beamed with pride over Trace’s amazing gift. I didn’t blame him. Trace had made him feel special—something Trace was so incredibly good at doing.

––––––––

Trace

The play clock ticked down and the game ended with us kicking the shit out of Arkansas. Our offensive line looked good and made it easy for Caden to complete his passes, hence my nearly two-hundred-yard game. I wondered if CJ and Marin being there had anything to do with it.

I glanced to their seats on my way off the field. They were empty. Why hadn’t they waited to talk to me? Didn’t they realize I wanted to see them?

Ignoring reporters who wanted an interview, I rushed into the locker room, pulling my phone from my bag. Marin hadn’t texted. What the hell? I sent off a text to her. Thanks for bringing him.

Marin’s message popped up immediately. Thanks for the tickets.

Seeing her words gave me the same nervous excitement seeing her in the seats had. I didn’t think I’d be affected. I didn’t think I’d care. But I was thrown off balance by the sight of them. By the urge I felt to go to them. By the urge I felt to talk to them. And what I also didn’t expect was the way having them there motivated me. I wanted to give CJ a role model he could be proud of. It was the first time I wasn’t concerned with crushing our opponent, breaking another school record, or just making myself look good out there. It was about CJ.

And don’t get me started on Marin standing there in a Bama T-shirt. I’m not gonna lie. It gave me a sliver of hope she was there to see me and not just because I’d sent tickets. But deep down I knew she wasn’t there for me. She was there so CJ could see me play. I needed to remember that. I needed to remember we were over.

I sent off another text. Would’ve liked to see you guys.

I watched the text box. No dots appeared. Was she already driving home? Was she in that much of a rush to be away from me? After a few pathetic minutes of willing her to text back, I tossed my phone into my bag and showered.

After my shower, I threw on a navy T-shirt and jeans and tossed my bag over my shoulder.

Finlay rushed by me like a bat out of hell and dragged Caden into the back room. The two of them clearly couldn’t get enough of each other. But if Coach caught them hooking up in—

“I think I know why Forester hasn’t called Sabrina,” Finlay whispered.

My ears perked up as I moved closer to the door.

“I think I know his secret,” she continued.

“Forester’s got a secret?” Caden asked with a smile in his voice.

“Of course he does. There’s a woman and kid waiting outside for him. It’s the same kid he gave the ball to.”

Holy shit. They waited.

“I think he’s a dad.”

Caden choked on a laugh as I bolted out of the locker room, immediately spotting Marin and CJ leaning against the brick wall outside. CJ clutched the football I’d given him to his chest. If the proud look on his face didn’t bring a grown man to tears, I don’t know what did. As soon as he spotted me, he handed Marin the football and ran toward me, launching himself into my arms. “Whoa,” I laughed, catching him into an embrace. “Hey, buddy.”

He held onto me tightly, only pulling back enough to see my face. “Hi, Trace.”

Marin walked toward us with a small smile on her face. She was trying not to be affected by me. By the connection CJ and I had. By the way she once felt about me. “Hi.”

“Going for the element of surprise?” I asked with raised brows, trying to hide how badly I’d missed her.

“Was it a good one?”

There were so many things I wanted to say. Wanted to do now that she stood in front of me. But instead I shrugged. “It was okay.”

She snickered and I wondered if she too was brought back to that night she showed up at my bar claiming the service was just okay.

“So, what’d you think of the game?” I asked, hating that I couldn’t hug or kiss her.

“You did great,” she said, minus the excitement she’d shown when we’d talk after my earlier games.

“Did you expect anything less?”

She rolled her eyes, but I could see my cockiness still amused her. “Thanks for giving him the ball.”

I lowered CJ to his feet. He looked up at me with big excited eyes. “Yeah. Thanks for the ball, Trace. Some girl offered me a hundred bucks for it.”

“Buddy, you should have given it to her. I would’ve given you another one.”

CJ shrugged as he reclaimed the football from Marin. “I wanted this one.”

My eyes shifted to Marin who wiped the corner of her eye.

I wanted to shake her. I wanted to tell her it didn’t have to be like this. But I’d never had to force someone to want me. I wasn’t about to start now.

“Well, we just wanted to say hello before we took off,” Marin said, clearly trying to get away from me.

“Who do we have here?” I heard Finlay before I saw her. She stepped beside me and stuck her hand out to CJ. “Hi, I’m Finlay.”

CJ shook her hand with rounded eyes, clearly smitten. Finlay was pretty in that girl-next-door way guys like Caden fell hard for. “I’m CJ.”

She nodded to the football in his hands. “I see you got yourself a souvenir.”

CJ nodded. “Yeah, Trace gave it to me.”

Finlay’s eyes shifted to mine. “That was really nice of him.”

“Sorry, bro,” Caden said as he stepped up beside me. “I tried to stop her.”

Finlay looked to Marin. “And you must be CJ’s mom.”

“Marin.”

“Forester got you guys some prime seats,” Finlay said, her eyes moving between Marin and CJ.

“Yep. We could see everything,” Marin said, trying to be polite when all she clearly wanted to do was get home.

Finlay looked back to CJ as she hitched her thumb over her shoulder. “This is Caden. He’s the one who threw the ball to Forester.”

CJ’s eyes widened on Caden.

“You want me to sign the ball?” Caden asked him.

CJ nodded. “That would be awesome.”

“Hey, don’t forget who caught the ball and scored the touchdown,” I added.

CJ smiled up at me. “You can sign it too, Trace.”

Marin pulled a marker from her handbag and handed it to Caden.

He knelt down in front of CJ and signed the ball. “This signature is gonna be worth a lot of money someday,” Caden teased, though he was probably right. He was a hell of a quarterback and he deserved every good thing that came his way.

“Not as much as mine will be worth,” I added.

Caden rolled his eyes as he stood and handed the marker back to Marin. Knowing enough to get Finlay away before she did something crazy like invite them back to our house, Caden dropped his arm over Finlay’s shoulders. “Let’s go.”

“It was nice meeting you CJ,” Finlay said. “You too, Marin.”

“You too,” Marin and CJ said at the same time.

“See ya,” Caden said as he turned Finlay away from them.

Marin looked to CJ as my friends disappeared around the corner. “You about ready?” she asked him.

“I didn’t get to sign his ball yet,” I said.

CJ smiled and held the ball out to me, knowing I’d bought us a few more minutes. I took the marker from Marin and signed To the best kid I know. Trace #82.

I handed the ball back to CJ who stared down at my words. “Thanks, Trace.”

I wasn’t sure he could read yet, and I hated that I didn’t know things like that. Hated that I was now an outsider. I tried to ignore the lump forming in my throat, but I knew they’d be leaving. And I didn’t want them to go. “You guys want to grab a bite to eat?” I asked, handing the marker to Marin.

She avoided my gaze as she tucked the marker into her handbag. “Oh, I don’t—”

“Can we, Mom?”

Marin looked to me pleadingly.

But there was no way I was letting her out of it that easily. “Can we, Mom?” I teased.

Her eyes flared, but underneath I could see that spark of amusement I brought out in her. “Fine. A quick bite.”

“Should we get burgers or—” My eyes locked on hers. “Ice cream?”

Her eyes shot wide as I laughed.

“Ice cream,” CJ said as Marin said, “Burgers.”

“Fine,” I relented with a smirk. “Burgers it is. Maybe we can get ice cream after.”

Marin cocked her head as she suppressed a smile. I loved that I could still get to her.

We walked to the closest burger joint on campus. CJ, a virtual buffer, walked between us. Inside, we sat in a window booth, me across from them. Between mouthfuls of burger, CJ told me all about school and the friends he made. Marin ate quietly while looking at her phone, giving CJ and me time to reconnect. I’m not gonna lie. Having her there, but not really there, sucked. So did her excusing herself and stepping outside once she finished eating.

I watched through the window as she sat on a bench, talking on the phone. Who was on the other end? Was it her friend Gayle or CJ’s dad? I considered pumping CJ for information. But not knowing was probably better.

“Mom’s in college, too,” CJ said.

“I know.” My attention moved back to him. “Isn’t that great?”

He nodded. “Yeah. She goes when I’m in school and studies when I go to bed.”

“That’s not an easy thing to do.” I glanced back out the window at Marin. She was doing it. She was really doing it on her own. She said she’d get back on her own two feet, and she was. It just sucked it was without me. “I hope you’re being a good boy for her.”

His little head bounced adamantly. “I am.”

I held out my knuckles, bumping them to his. And as I stared across the table at this little kid who’d stolen my heart, it felt natural being there with him. Sharing a meal. Talking about everyday stuff. Marin said I needed to get married and have a kid of my own one day. But what was wrong with loving her kid? I know Marin wanted a consistent man in his life, but wasn’t me loving him enough, regardless of where I was?

Marin returned once our plates were bare. “Come on, CJ. We’ve gotta head home.”

“Aw, Mom,” he said, standing from his chair like the awesome kid he was.

Marin draped her arm around his shoulder and pulled him into her. “Aw, Mom,” she teased.

I laughed, loving their connection. “CJ told me you’re doing well in school.”

She shrugged. “It’s not easy after being away from it for so long, but I’m figuring it out.”

I stopped myself from reaching out and touching her, though my hands itched to. “That’s great, Marin. Really great.”

Her eyes flashed down uncomfortably, as if my pride in her was unwarranted. It wasn’t. It took guts to get back on her own two feet.

“I’ll be home for Thanksgiving,” I said.

Marin forced a small smile. “Oh, that’s nice. Your parents must miss you.”

“I want to stop by.”

She tilted her head, as if to ask me not to push my luck.

“To hang out with CJ,” I explained.

“Yes,” CJ said, punching his small fist into the air.

“Oh,” Marin said. “Of course.”

That’s when I saw it. The disappointment I’d hoped to see on her face. And I’d take it. Because at least it was something.

––––––––

Marin

My textbooks lay spread out all over the coffee table. I could barely concentrate on anything. Anything but the way Trace made CJ’s year by giving him that football. Or the way the two of them got along so well. Or the way Trace made me feel so damn happy. And as hard as I’d fought to remain unfazed—or at least come across that way—everything about our time together had felt so familiar. So much like home. So right.

My phone vibrated on the table. I lifted a couple books to find where I’d covered it and smiled when I saw the name on the screen. “Hi,” I whispered so not to wake CJ who was asleep upstairs.

“Was it as awesome up close as it was on TV?” Gayle asked.

I sat back and let the soft sofa cushions envelop me. “Better.”

“Marin, you know he didn’t just do it for CJ, right?”

“Stop.”

“No. That’s what best friends are for. To tell you the truth.”

“Some would say I’m being a martyr.”

She scoffed.

“Fine. It sounded better in my head.”

“The announcers were wondering who the kid was,” she said.

“He could’ve been any fan.”

“Not the way Trace made a beeline right toward you guys. And if you’re wondering, you looked hot.”

I rolled my eyes as my mind wandered back to the feelings Trace elicited. The regret. The sadness. The love. “He took us to eat.”

The silence on her end was her thinking what I already knew. Bad idea. “How was that?”

“How do you think?”

“Torture?” she guessed.

“That about sums it up.”

“You think he still wants you?”

Though she couldn’t see me, I shook my head. “We barely spoke. He probably hates me.”

“He wouldn’t hate you, Marin. Be confused by you, maybe, but he’d never hate you. Especially if he knew the real reason you broke it off with him.”

“Yeah, well, he’s not going to find out.”

“What if I send him an anonymous text?” she asked.

“I already told you. If he confronts Charles, which I’m pretty sure he’d do, we both lose.”

“Can I ask you something,” Gayle said, treading lightly.

“Of course.”

“How are you gonna feel when you find out he’s dating someone?”

A knot formed in my stomach. The same one that had been there most of the day. So many times I feared his phone would ring while he was with us. Feared he had someone waiting for him. Feared he’d tell me he was dating someone. Feared he’d moved on. “Terrible.”

I thought finding out my husband had cheated on me had been the worst thing to ever happen to me. But nothing compared to the pain of pushing away someone I’d fallen head over heels in love with.

Once I’d hung up with Gayle, I sat for a long time. If I was doing the right thing, it shouldn’t have felt so awful. It shouldn’t have felt so wrong. Maybe Gayle was right. Maybe I needed to tell Trace. Explain what was really going on.

My finger hovered over the contacts icon on my phone for what felt like forever. Could I call him? Could I confide in him and beg him not to confront Charles? Not jeopardize me keeping my son? I pulled in a deep breath and released it slowly, moving my finger to the photos icon instead.

A picture of Trace and CJ appeared. I hadn’t realized how many pictures I’d taken of the two of them until I began swiping through my pictures. Them playing catch, playing basketball, at a carnival, at the beach. I swiped again and a selfie of Trace and me, lying on my bed, filled the screen. Our heads were close, our smiles wide. I swiped again. Another photo of us, only this time Trace pressed his lips to my cheek. My smile said it all. I was falling hard for him. I swiped again. This time I kissed him back. My eyes were closed. I thought back to that moment. To my elation when we were together. I desperately wanted that again. I desperately wanted that again with Trace.

My phone vibrated in my hand. Jerry’s name lit up my screen. The hair on my arms stood on end. Why was he calling so late? I lifted the phone to my ear. “Hey.”

“Hi. I saw you on TV today.” He didn’t sound excited. Why didn’t he sound excited?

“Yeah,” I said wearily. “CJ got a football.”

“Yeah, I saw. I’m sure Charles saw it too.”

A cold chill rushed up my spine.

“I need you to do damage control,” he said. “Before he does something rash. Because given the close-up on TV, it seemed like you and Trace were still together.”

My heartbeat walloped as I disconnected the call.

I sat for a long time staring down at my phone. How had this happened to me? What had I ever done to make the universe turn on me? I met a man who was charming and smart. I fell in love with him. And then he changed. And then he changed me. I thought I was smart. I thought I was strong enough to stay true to who I was. But it happened. Charles happened. And now I was stuck.

I hit Charles’ name in my contacts and lifted the phone to my ear.

Charles answered on the second ring.

“Hey,” I said, trying to sound like calling him was the most natural thing in the world.

“Is everything okay?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah. I was just thinking maybe you’d like to meet me at CJ’s game tomorrow.”

“Oh,” he said, like I’d caught him off guard—or he had a woman over and I’d interrupted. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Great. The game’s at noon.”

“I’ll pick you guys up at quarter of,” he said, way too cheerily.

“He needs to be there half an hour early.” You’d know that if you ever showed up.

“Oh. Okay. So I guess I’ll get you at eleven twenty-five.”

“See you then,” I said. I disconnected the call and my stomach roiled. How long was I going to have to appease him? How long could I be controlled by him? There had to be another way. There just had to be.