Page 18 of Accidental Dad's Best Friend

“What’s it about?” He asked without taking his eyes off the game. Mine trailed over to his face. He was younger then, in his mid or late thirties. His hair was darker and thicker but his eyes were the same. His smile was the same too.

“Feminism.” I answered. I was reading Margarette Atwood.

“Are men all that terrible?” He asked and I lowered my book.

But just before I could respond, one of the players on the other team slammed one of our players into the wall, making me jump. Ethan grinned and patted my leg. His hand was warm. The guys on the ice broke into a brawl until there was nothing but a pile of hot-headed boys with sticks beating the shit out of each other.

I held out my hand and arched my eyebrows and Ethan laughed again. “Alright, you win. We’re idiots. All of us.”

I laughed too and the laughs faded to smiles. We looked back to the ice as everyone around us, my dad included, jumped to their feet and started yelling. We stayed sitting. And his hand, for a moment longer, stayed on my leg.

That was it. Ever since that day, since that moment, I realized something. Ethan Savage wasn’t my dad’s friend. He wasn’t a man I grew up seeing almost every day. He was just a man. An attractive man. And he was a man that I was not allowed to see that way.

So I shoved whatever I was feeling aside and replaced it with irritation. Dislike. Annoyance.

But now, years later, I can’t just shove the feelings aside anymore. And now that he’s touched me, now that he’s kissed me and held me and called me baby…

No. It doesn’t matter. I cannot fall for Ethan Savage.

Not just because I can’t compromise my own heart, but because I can’t let Jaxon get hurt. The only thing worse than growing up with only one parent, is having a parent that is around but doesn’t want you around. I don’t know that that’s how Ethan would feel. But he’s made it pretty clear he’s not the settle down type. He’s almost fifty for Christ’s sake. If the man wanted a wife and kids, surely he’d have it by now.

But he doesn’t.

And the last thing I will subject Jaxon to is a dad who might not want him.

I often wonder if my dad did want me, at some point. Before I was born. I never heard about what his relationship was like when my parents were pregnant with me. He won’t talk about it and I learned when I was little to stop asking. All I do know is that my mom got sick when she had me. A partially retained placenta went septic. From what I’ve read, it’s somethingthat happens very fast. Postpartum flu-like symptoms lead to delirium and blood poisoning within hours. She was rushed back to the hospital three days after I was born and it was too late. My dad went home without her and was left alone with me.

I’ve always felt like he blamed me for it. He wasn’t neglectful for anything like that. I was never in want or need of anything…except maybe affirmation. No, he was around and attentive alright. Made sure I ate healthy and expected perfect grades at school. In his mind, I was a direct reflection on him. In other words, I had to be perfect. And when I wasn’t the criticism got worse. It made him permanently disappointed and me chronically driven and salty, mostly out of spite.

Ethan is a driven man. A successful, stubborn, strong-willed man. As bad as it sounds, I have no idea what kind of father he would be. All I know is I have to protect Jaxon and Ethan has never shown interest in being a family man.

So for now, he can’t know about Jaxon. Not only because I don’t want to compromise the life I’ve spent five years building but because my dad has no business knowing about Jaxon either. That is one man he doesn’t need in his life. However, I do still have the job offer to consider.

As much as working for NBT doesn’t appeal to me, I know Ethan means it when he says he’ll pay well. His “donation” subscription to my blog is proof of that. Which, by the way, I am still not happy about. A job like that could get me out of the retail world and back into journalism for good. As much as I like working at the shop with Cassie, selling overpriced dresses to stuck up women isn’t exactly a fulfilling career. Sure, I have the blog going for me but with how little it brings in, my degree is more or less just collecting dust at this point.

It would also get Jax and I into our own home. A place in a family friendly area with a yard and parks and friends. So I make a decision, the right decision for Jax.

I will take the job.

But there will be stipulations, of course.

The next morning, I meet Ethan at a coffee shop right down the street. I think it’s in everyone’s best interest if our meetings are in more public, less steamy locations. Places where they require more clothing and less places to hide hands.

“I take it since you agreed to have breakfast that you aren’t going to tell me to fuck off?” Ethan is grinning at me from across the small metal table outside the coffee shop.

It’s a clear, bright morning and even at 8am, it’s already warm. I can see my own reflection in his Oakley shades and I’m starting to wish I’d done something with my mess of hair instead of just throwing it into a messy bun.

But with the amount of overthinking I did last night and the lack of sleep I got because of it, I didn’t have the energy to dress to impress. I’m probably the most underdressed I’ve ever been at a quote unquote job interview in a cropped tank top and leggings before. I kind of don’t hate it.

“No, I’m not going to tell you to fuck off. Not all the way, anyways.” I answer, licking the whipped cream off my straw. A lot of people would argue that frozen coffee with caramel drizzle and whipped cream isn’t coffee at all but dessert. Nowthosepeople can fuck all the way off.

“Alright,” Ethan crosses one leg over the other and leans back in his chair. “So let’s discuss just how far you aren’t going to ask me to fuck off.”

“I am going to take the job.” I state.

Ethan sits up and raises his sunnies to the top of his head, his light blue eyes matching the color of the sky bright with surprise. Part of me wishes he would put the shades back on because ofhow distracted that color is. The other part of me never wants to stop staring into it.

I mentally shake the thoughts from my head and go on. “Don’t look so excited. I will write the article for you. But I have stipulations.”

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