Page 11 of Rebound

“Don’t be stupid,” I say, rolling my eyes.

Chapter 7

Seth

Today couldn’t have gone better if I had planned it myself. Since I saw her at the adoption party, the idea took hold and won’t let me go. Now, I have to figure out a way to bring my plan to fruition.

I need to think differently. I need to approach it like Coach would. I need to learn everything I can about my opponent, figure out their weakness, and exploit it. One thing I’ve learned is that everyone has something. Everyone has a weakness. We all have something we want. I’m hoping that what she wants is something money can buy. If not, I’m screwed.

But first, if my plan has any chance of succeeding, I need to get her to see me in a different light.

Her initial perception of me is not wrong. I slept around a lot before Jasmine came to live with me permanently. It started when I was a junior in high school and intensified when I was recruited by a Division One university in my senior year. I couldn’t keep the girls away if I tried. And the truth is, I didn’t want them to stay away. Things only escalated in college and when I got drafted.

Looking back now, I’m a little ashamed of my actions, but there’s nothing I can do to change the past. All I can do is do better in the future and be an example my daughter can beproud of. That’s what Coach says, and he seems to be right a lot.

I smile when Jasmine pulls Layla’s phone from her hand. Layla takes it back, but she puts on a cartoon and hands it back to my daughter. I never let Jasmine have screen time, but I keep my mouth shut about it. This one time won’t hurt.

With the rush hour traffic, it takes my driver almost forty-five minutes to pull in front of my building. He opens the door for us, and Layla follows me and Jasmine inside.

“You live here?” she asks, looking around the lobby. “This is where the Chastains live.”

“Yeah. I just moved in,” I tell her, leaving out the part about how I wanted a fresh place to raise my kid, not a place I used as a sex pad. Even though I still own my old apartment, I no longer want to live there.

“Why? Too many orgies at your old place?” I cover Jasmine’s ears with both hands after stepping into the elevator.

“That’s inappropriate,” I whisper. Jasmine gurgles and kicks her legs, all the while holding onto Layla’s phone.

When we finally step out of the elevator on the twentieth floor, she follows us down the long hallway and lets out a loud whistle when I open the door to my apartment for her. Apartment is not the right word. It’s five thousand square feet with four bedrooms and three bathrooms. The kitchen is marble with oak cabinets.

I have my high school, college, and Mischiefs jerseys on the wall leading into the apartment.

“Make yourself comfortable,” I tell her. “We’ll be right back.” She’s too busy looking around the apartment to remember to take her phone from Jasmine. That’s exactly what I was hoping for. I’m convinced now more than ever that this is the rightthing to do. Fate is making it almost too easy for me, and nothing in life has ever come easy for me before.

Once I get into the nursery, I take the phone and send myself a text. I save her number and share her location with me. Of course, I do the same and share mine with her as well. She just won’t know it yet. I put the cartoon back on and give the phone back to my daughter.

After changing her wet diaper, I put her in a Mischiefs onesie—one with a tutu attached to it—and return to the living room.

She has the fridge open and is looking inside when I come in. Jasmine wobbles behind me, singing along to the cartoon.

“So, what are you ordering?” she asks. “I’m hungry.” She pulls out a bottle of water and starts to walk around. My eyes follow her as she goes into the living room and looks at the pictures I have on the wall. They are all of Jasmine with a few of me thrown in. There’s one small picture frame on the lamp table of me and my dad. It’s taken outside our old trailer. I’m about six years old and have my arms wrapped around his leg.

“Is that your dad?” she asks, and I nod as I rummage through the fridge.

“How about some fajitas?” I ask, hoping to change the subject. “Chicken and shrimp okay?”

“Sure. Where are you getting them from?” she asks. I pull out packages of fresh shrimp and chicken breasts I put in the fridge this morning.

“I’m cooking. I cook for Jasmine every night. Can’t have her eating junk. Huh, Jazzy Girl?” I yell at my daughter.

“Dada!” she yells back while holding the phone in the air. It’s almost like she’s telling me she’s busy and for me to shut up. After pulling out all the ingredients I’ll need for dinner, I pour my guest a glass of white wine. I noticed that’s what she likesto drink. I’m not much of a wine drinker, but I pour one for myself too.

“This place is nice,” she says. “Not what I expected at all.”

“What did you think? I would have one big bed for the orgies?” I lower my voice when I ask the question. I look over at Jasmine to make sure she didn’t hear me, even though there is no way in hell she would know what I’m talking about.

“Maybe a cage over there.” She points into the living room. “Pornography everywhere.”

“You’re so judgmental,” I tell her. “What’s wrong with a single person having a sex life? Imagine if I judged a woman the way you judge me.”

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