Page 53 of Replay

“Berkley’s keeping our kids from burning down the house tonight.” He shrugs. “They like her more anyway.”

Disappointment floods me, but if I’m being honest with myself, this wasn’t my best idea. It's way too busy to bombard her with a conversation.

“You’ll have to ask her which job she prefers?” he chuckles to himself. “One is way less stressful than the other, in my humble opinion.”

Realizing I need to respond, I come up with something quick. “No problem, I just wanted to drop something off to her too, but I’ll shoot her a text and just take it by her place later.”

Phil smirks at me like he just had the best idea ever. “Our house is two blocks over on the corner of Dogwood and Glendale if you want to drop in. Take these with you.” He raises his finger in the air, pointing to the west, and I don’t hesitate at his offer when he passes the tickets back to me. “Jack Jack’s going to freak.”

Phil’s the real MVP here.

Reminding myself to play it cool, I smile. “Perfect. What’s the house number?”

“You aren’t Berkley’s stalker, right?” he asks, and I can tell he is teasing.

If he only knew.Hopefully, he never talks to Bellamy.

“Depends on who you ask,” I joke, but before he can retract his offer, I say, “We’re both from Nori Beach. No stalker.”

Just a guy hoping for a second chance after the biggest fuckup of his life.

“Oh yeah, I saw that on ESPN.”

Someone calling his name frantically from the back snaps him out of our conversation.

“Alright, gotta go. Thanks again.” He turns over his shoulder and rushes out, “We’ll be there next weekend. Stop by sometime this week and dinner is on me.”

“House number?” I call out.

“5361.”

“Have a good one, Phil.”

With renewed nerves and excitement, I head out the door and down Dogwood Street.

Laughter and squeals of fun filter out the open windows as I approach the front door of the two-story white house. I smile at the sound, remembering the time I tagged along with her to babysit my cousins in Nori Beach. That was the night she told me she wanted to be an elementary school teacher. At seventeen years old, when I was thinking about nothing but her andfootball, she had told me that she wanted to make a difference in children’s lives, whether it was teaching them something or simply showing them love. I think I fell even more in love with her that night. She made me want to strive for something more than just being a football player.

I knock on the door, wondering if Phil gave them a heads-up I was coming.

Feet thudding through the house is the last thing I hear before the door is snatched open, and a young, wide-eyed girl stands in front of me, gawking.

I give her a friendly smile, but before I can tell her who I am, I hear Berkley yell from somewhere upstairs, “Don’t open that door, Josie. Wait for me.”

The girl, or Josie, shrugs and yells back, “That hot new quarterback is here!”

Lord have mercy.

“What!?” Berkley hollers back, followed by three pairs of feet clomping down the steps, heading our way.

She rounds the corner, a cute redheaded toddler on her hip and two more kids close behind. My stomach dips at the sight of her. Her blonde hair pulled up on top of her head, and there’s no makeup on her gorgeous face. I always loved her like this.

Berkley’s surprised expression quickly morphs into one with narrowed eyes and pursed lips.

I smirk at her, and that’s when the young boy runs up, standing beside his older sister. “Is this for real right now?”

“You are, like, my brother’s idol,” Josie says, at the same time Berkley speaks up again to ask, “What are you doing here, Outlaw?”

Digging into my pocket, I pull out the set of four tickets and squat so I’m at eye level with Jack. “You’re Jack, right?”

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