Page 16 of Unrivaled

Jackson and I sit in relative silence until Ben says, “Mommy, can I keep watchingDaniel Tiger?”

Smiling, I ruffle his hair. “Of course. Hang on, let me find the remotes, and I’ll get it started.” Once the show is going again, I take advantage of the fact that I’m already standing to gather up the trash from our impromptu celebratory coffee and pastries.

Jackson stands and moves to help me, despite my murmured protest that he doesn’t have to. He follows me to the kitchen, and once there stops me with a touch to my elbow. “Sorry about earlier. I didn’t even think that Ben might not know who his dad is.” His expression sombers. “Was it … did he … were you hurt? By Ben’s dad?”

Crossing my arms, I let out a defensive chuckle and shake my head. “No, not like that. I wasn’t raped or abused or anything. It was just … an accident. A random hook up at a party my senior year. Never saw the guy again.” Despite my attempts to contact him. He never wanted to see me again, it turns out, even though he’d said he did. Guess when you contact a hookup and say you’re pregnant, that changes things.

And while I’ve technically seen him again, since he’s still pretending to be clueless, there’s no point in bringing it up.

A range of expressions cross Jackson’s face—relief, understanding, ending with a deep thoughtfulness, his mouth turned down in a frown. “You grew up here? Graduated from high school here?”

Now I’m frowning. “Yeah. Why?”

He looks away, shaking his head. “No reason. Just … no reason.” Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he takes a step back. “Hey, this was good. Thanks for indulging my need to celebrate. Comes from being a football player, I think. We always celebrate the wins. I need to get going, though. Homework and …”

“Yeah, no problem,” I put in when it seems like he’s struggling to come up with another reason to leave. “And don’t worry about …” I wave a hand toward the living room to encompass the entire awkward conversation we’ve had about Ben’s dad. Maybe Jackson’s not so bad after all. “We’re cool, okay?”

He gives me a brief smile. “Good. I’m glad. I do need to go, though.”

“Of course. See you later.”

He holds up a hand in a wave, and I stay rooted to the spot in the kitchen as he gathers his things from the living room, murmurs a goodbye to Ben, and leaves.

His reaction to my statement that Ben is the result of a random hookup seems … strange. Most people are either disgusted or stumbling over themselves to display their lack of disgust when I share that tidbit. But Jackson seemed like … I don’t know. Autumn’s words about him thinking he might be the father ring through my head.

Is that it? Is he worried I might’ve been a hookup from years ago he doesn’t remember?

But I know that’s impossible, because I absolutely know who Ben’s father is. Shaking my head, I let it go. Jackson’s worries aren’t my problem. And unless he comes around demanding a paternity test, there’s no reason to make them mine.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Gray

Jackson’s quieter than normal during our workout. And acting weird. He keeps staring at the wall silently, his brow furrowed, punctuated by brief periods where he studies my face like there’s a clue to some mystery I know nothing about lurking there.

“Everything alright, man?” I ask after the third or fourth time I catch him studying me while we swap places on the leg press.

He grunts, settling into position on the machine, and without giving me a real answer, proceeds to unlock the safeties and knock out his reps.

When he stops, I prop my arm on the top of the footplate, making it difficult for him to get up unless he wants to push me out of the way. “Dude. Seriously. You’ve been staring at me off and on all day. What’s going on? Did I piss you off by missing yesterday’s workout or something?”

With another grunt, he wraps his hands around the top of the footplate and pulls himself to standing, forcing me back unless I want his head clocking me in the face. “You know Tiffany?”

My brows pull together. “The chick from your theatre class? I mean, I wouldn’t say Iknowher. I knew who she was in high school because she was the cheerleader who dated the quarterback at our rival high school pretty much the whole time. I met her maybe once before, though. And apparently she’s still carrying a grudge from that old rivalry.” I shrug, trying to figure out where he’s going with this.

“Where did you meet her?”

“Huh?” I’m really thrown by this conversation, and also thinking back over our encounter at Jackson’s place last week. She looked really pretty, just like I always thought back in high school, but she’s more filled out now, like a woman instead of a girl, her tits bigger than I remember, and they were a lovely handful before.

“Where did you meet her?” he repeats. “You said you met her in high school. Where?”

This is a really weird conversation. And I’ve never known Jackson to pry like this. “Dude. Why does it matter?”

“It just does,” he insists. “Was it at a party?”

Nodding, I remember that night, the way she looked standing with her friends when I walked in, the way she danced with me, grinding against me, letting me take her to a bedroom, all hot and ready for a hookup to get back at her boyfriend.

“She has a kid,” Jackson says, jarring me out of the memory.

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