Page 63 of Let You Love Me

His statement hits me like a load of bricks.

Now there’s a newsflash. I almost forgot someone who loved the game could even feel that way. Most of my life, I’ve had it drilled into me that football was the be-all and end-all, the only thing that mattered. Sometimes I wonder how my mother puts up with it when it seems she’s married to a game and not a man that’s flesh and blood. But then she gets her husband back in the off-season, and my father dotes on her. They take trips together and fill their weekends with date nights, making up for the time they lose the other half of the year. And if that works for them, who am I to judge?

But even if Chance hadn’t broken my heart and proved to me that someone like him will always put their love of the game first, I wouldn’t want that kind of life for myself. Day in and day out, I have to be present for my daughter, and I don’t want anyone who’s only half-in. I want someone all-in or nothing.

“Besides,” Teagan continues, breaking through my thoughts, “I’m ready. I did all my prepping this week, and the night before I like to take my mind off it. Otherwise, the pressure would eat me alive.”

I ingest what he’s saying as he kicks off his shoes, ignoring the way my nerves flutter with renewed life at the intimacy of him walking through our foyer in socked feet.

The hallway opens into the kitchen and living room and Teagan makes a beeline for the large island, which is when I notice the plastic grocery bag in his hand for the first time.

He stops in front of it and pulls two containers from the bag, placing them on the counter. “Where’s Sweet Sophie?” he asks, and my heart does a little flip at the nickname.

His blue eyes flicker over his surroundings but are left wanting when he glances back to me. “I brought dessert, a treat for her since we didn’t get to have any at Slice the other night.” He points to one of the boxes. “First, I got her this chocolate moussecake, but then I realized I didn’t know if she had any allergies, so I picked up this one, too.” He shoves a pale, crumbling cake toward me as he reads the label, “It’s allergen friendly. No nuts, soy, wheat, eggs, or dairy.” His face twists, and I laugh. “I’m sure it’s delicious,” he deadpans.

I slowly shake my head, eyes wide as I stare at him like he’s one of the seven wonders of the world. “You boughttwocakes?”

He shrugs, his gaze flickering back at me seriously. “I know peanuts are a pretty common allergy, but a lot of kids nowadays can’t have wheat, or dairy, and . . .” he trails off. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, dragging a hand over his face. “Is there something on me?”

“No. I just . . .” I swallow, and my heart twists. “You bought a special dessert for Sophie just in case she has an allergy?”

“Well . .. yeah,” he says like it’s no big deal when it’s actually a very, very big deal. At least, to me.

No one except my parents ever even thinks twice about Sophie. But here’s this man who’s spent time with her only twice, and he’s going out of his way to accommodate her. For me.

My eyes fill with tears, and I blink them back, sniffing as I glance away from him, mortified at the rare display of emotion.

Get it together, Lane.

When I turn back to him, he’s staring at me like I have a third head. “Um, is everything okay? Did I do something wrong?”

I shake my head while I fight to speak over the lump in my throat. “No. No, everything is great. And Sophie can eat either cake. She doesn’t have any allergies. It’s just . . .” My throat constricts, and I purse my lips.

Damn you, Lane. He’s going to think you’re nuts, crying over something as simple as cake.

“It’s, uh, just not every day—”Or ever,“—that someone shows they care about Sophie.”Or me.

“Oh.” He exhales and the tension in his posture loosens. “Well, I guess you’ll have to get used to it. Best damn friend you’ve ever had, remember?” He grins, twin dimples beckoning me forward. I want to reach out and hug him, squeeze him, to make sure he’s real. “Anyway, you might wanna just toss this one,” he says, shoving the allergy friendly cake away from us with a grimace. “It looks like cardboard.”

I laugh but inside I’m screaming because, as ludicrous as it is, I want to save the cake. Remember it. Place it on my nightstand where I’ll see it every morning and night as a reminder that men like him exist. Ones that go the extra mile. Ones that care and actually give a damn.

I’m completely hopeless, a total freak, but he’s making it hard to care.

“There’s only one problem,” I say with regret. “Sophie’s already asleep.”

“Damn it, seriously?” Teagan’s shoulders slump forward as he glances down at the cake so forlornly, I can’t help my responding chuckle.

“Are you more upset that you missed her or that you feel like you can’t eat cake now?”

His mouth drops and he scoffs. “Of course I’m upset that I don’t get to see her.” Then he tilts his head and adds, “And, okay, maybe I’m a little sad I can’t have cake.”

I shake my head, fighting a smile, but it’s impossible. “Pizza several times a weekandcake. It’s a miracle you have the body you do,” I say without thinking.

Teagan’s brows rise at my statement, and my cheeks burn.

“You checking out my body, Turner?” His eyes glitter with mischief as he comes around the island and steps closer. “You like what you see?”

I swallow, glancing down at the marble countertop as I open my mouth, trying to find something clever to say in response,some way I can shrug this off, but with his close proximity, I draw a blank. Instead, all I can focus on is the memory of his toned chest that day in the park and the glimpse of his six-pack when he lifted his shirt inside Slice.

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