Page 68 of Let You Love Me

The statement deflates the hot air ballooning in my chest, and I nod.

To think I hesitated to even invite him in, and now, I don’t want to let him go.

I rise to my feet, and he follows. His departure is a good reminder that though Teagan Nichols might make me feel desirable, at the end of the day, it changes nothing between us. I’m still a twenty-one-year-old mother to a four-year-old with a world of responsibility, while he’s barely nineteen and completely unattached with years of oat-sowing ahead of him. Not to mention, he’s a college athlete and one of my father’s players. His dedication to his football career comes first.

Bottom line: it would never work out.

Yet he was here on a Friday night before an important game.

I shake the thought away as I walk him to the door.

The whole reason he’s hurrying off is so he doesn’t get caught by my father.

Football is his priority.

We’re at opposite junctures in our lives, and a little—okay,a lot—of attraction can’t change that.

I’m off-limits, and even if I weren’t, I’m more hassle than I’m worth.

It’s best if I remember that.

He might be my friend, but that’s all we’ll ever be. His allegiance lies with football and mine is with Sophie.

Chapter 16

LANE

Gabby scurries toward mein the darkened basement of Wyndham Hall, two coffees clutched in her fists. The heady scent reaches me before she does, and I hurry to take one off her hands like the caffeine fiend I am.

“Why am I meeting you down here again?” she asks, glancing around the basement like it’s a dungeon.

“Because I switched my work hours slightly, so I don’t have to talk to Teagan. Which also means I had no time to make coffee because I left the house earlier than normal, and I needed a caffeine fix.” I wave my hand in the air. “It’s a whole ripple effect. Thank you, by the way.” I lift the cup, then bring it to my lips and take a tentative sip.

“And why are we avoiding Teagan?”

I swallow and grimace, but it has nothing to do with the taste of the coffee and everything to do with the fact that I’m either foolish, a coward, or really smart. Maybe a little of all three. But after watching the first half of his game on Saturday from thesafety of the box with my mother and Sophie, I hurried off before Teagan could realize I was there.

Watching him play was a lot like watching a sea turtle discover water for the first time. Like he was born to play football. The second his cleats hit the turf, instinct took over, and everything else was just . . . inconsequential.

I thought about him for the rest of the day, and when I woke on Sunday, I knew. The best way for me to keep my sanity and not make a mistake is to keep my distance. Hence bumping work up to when he’s unavailable.

I’ll still see him at practice, of course, but if I get there just as they’re taking the field and ensure I’m nowhere to be found when it ends, there will be little opportunity for him to speak to me, if any. It’s not like he can just jog over in the middle of practice and ask for a chat. My father would hand his ass to him.

“It’s . . . complicated.”

Gabby hums under her breath. “Maybe so, but this place gives me the creeps.” She shivers, casting a wary glance toward the industrial ceiling at the same time my phone pings with an incoming text.

I slide it from my pocket and my stomach twists. It’s another text from Teagan.

Ever since Friday, he’s been texting me my new mantra. Saturday morning, I thought it was a one-off, but when he texted me again that evening and the next day, I knew I was in over my head.

I turn the phone to Gabby so she can see. “This!” I wave the phone in front of her. “This is why.”

Teagan: I, Lane Turner, am fucking proud. I am an amazing fucking mother. I’m sexy. Smart. A hard-ass worker, worthy in every single way. And I deserve every amazing fucking thing this world has to offer.

“Uh,” Gabby’s lashes flutter before she glances up at me like I’ve lost my mind, “and we don’t like this because we don’t like being told we’re fucking amazing, worthy, and nothing but the best?”

“Well,” I nod like a bobblehead, feeling as crazy as I probably look, “yeah.”

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