Page 51 of Sidelined By Love

It’s not possible for me to sound any lamer.

He’d have to have no pulse to believe anything I’ve said. It doesn’t stop me from trying again.

“She’s helping my niece with a school play audition. She doesn’t come over to see me.”

A sharp pain through my chest stops me short. Maybe because it’s a lie. Or maybe because I’m afraid it’s the truth.

Because I want her to come to my house to see me. Because I look forward to seeing her. Every single time.

“She’s been to your house?”

I shrug. “It’s not really a big deal. I have people over all the time.” Some of the guys are even coming over tomorrow to play cards.

Not that Zoe is like one of the guys.

Hank scratches his fingernails against his chin, the invisible whiskers there rasping lightly. “You haven’t seen very many women since Tawna, have you?”

None. The number is zero. An easy stat to remember.

But I don’t know where he’s going with this, so I mumble, “Not many.”

“Why’s that?”

“I need to focus on my game. On the team.” The words sound incredibly absurd even as they’re coming out of my mouth. But I’ve been telling myself for years that I’m not interested in a relationship with anyone.

The trouble is, she’s not anyone else. She’s Zoe Peebles. Kind. Funny. Smart. Talented.

And so stinking beautiful that my heart jumps out of rhythm the minute I see her—even in her morning costumes and capes.

I can’t fight the smile that insists on forming as I think about our morning routine. About her wild hair. Even about that ridiculously named dog.

And the truth is, I do want toseeher. I want to spend every minute I can with her. At some point she’s going to go back to LA. But the meantime could be sweet.

Only I’m . . .

“Or you’re afraid.” Hank beats me to the truth, which adds a sting to the realization.

I rub at the spot in the middle of my chest. The one that ached when I didn’t kiss Zoe. The one that burns every time I see her. The one that knows the truth is a little too close for comfort.

“Maybe I am.” I sink back to couch. “But the last time I dated someone during the season, I ended up with a broken arm.”

Hank’s eyebrows bounce as understanding falls into place. “Oh. So, it’s that kind of fear—that losing-the-game-you-love fear.”

“It’s the being-too-distracted-to-play-like-my-team-deserves fear.”

“Maybe that’s the wrong way to think about Zoe—or anyone woman, really.”

I’m only thinking about Zoe, thank you very much. But I don’t need another of Mr. Peebles’s employees to know that.

Hank continues, “The Good Book says that love casts out fear. It also says that a cord of three strands is stronger than two. When you’re with the right person, you’re a stronger, better version. Of both of you.”

Could he be right? Could Zoe actually make me better?

I think she’s already making me a better uncle—or at least providing ways for me to connect with Kenna. But could she really make me a better player on the field too?

Seventeen

Grant

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