Page 65 of The Way We Win

I feign confusion, but he’s a smart guy. I’m not going to get away with anything if I’m not convincing.

“I don’t know, I didn’t look. One?”

“Austin! You were out pastmidnight?”

“Mom.” His head tilts to the side, and he levels his eyes on me. “We just won our first game of the season. We were all together at the bonfire. You know that.”

I do know that. It’s a longstanding Newhope tradition—at least with the football team and the cheerleaders, and I guess the drill team? After every home game, they build a bonfire on the beach, listen to music, and do whatever teenagers do.

They don’t get into trouble. At least, I hope they don’t.

“I was a little restless last night, too.” True. “I went for a walk at some point, I guess that must’ve been when you got home.”

“Dang, Mom!” His voice is a hiss. “You’d let me have it if I did that. It’s dangerous.”

Twisting my lips, I can’t decide if I’m incredibly proud of him or annoyed that my teenager is so damn responsible.

“You’re right.” I nod, carrying the plate of cinnamon rolls to the table. “I did not use good judgment, and I’m really lucky we live in such a safe place as Newhope. I’m sorry, I won’t do it again.”

I take a cinnamon roll off the plate, using a napkin to hold it.

“Okay.” He shrugs, taking a small roll and stuffing the entire thing into his mouth.

My mind wanders to where I was last night, and a little smile curls my lips as I take a small nibble of my roll. I wonder what Jack is doing right now. I think about being his dirty little secret, and a thrill moves through my body.

“What’s that face about?” He shoves another whole roll into his mouth.

I jump, schooling my features, when I see the pan. “Jeez, Austin! You’ve eaten four already!”

“They’re small!” he argues through the mass of cinnamony dough in his mouth.

It’s another reminder of what he was like not so long ago, and while I love him as an almost-man, I do miss my little guy sometimes.

“It’s fine,” I relent. “I’ll probably only have this one.”

If I’m going to be doing stripteases, I’ll definitely need to be cutting back on the sugar for sure. Maybe add a little strength training to the mix, sculpt my muscle tone. Look better naked.

“What did you want to talk about before?” He shifts in his chair, taking the last roll from the plate.

Standing, I go to refill my coffee cup, a lead weight pressing down on my chest. I have so much shame around the choices I made as a young woman.

I know I wouldn’t have Austin if it weren’t for Rip, but at the same time, I wish I’d picked a better man to be his dad.

A man like Jack—a man who has actually been a better dad to him than his own father.

Walking back to the table, I watch him slowly unrolling the final cinnamon bun like a spool of ribbon.

Clearing my throat, I sit forward in my chair, cupping the mug in both hands. “Do you ever think about your dad?”

He shifts in his chair, his slim brows furrowing over his eyes. “No.”

I bite the side of my lip, wondering if his anger is okay or if I should try to get him to talk about it more—if not to me, to someone.

“Well… you know how he’s been in prison?” He gives me a faint nod, and I continue. “He’s out now. On parole. It’s very recent, less than a month ago.”

“I hope he doesn’t try to come here and bother us.” His voice rises slightly, and I wince.

“I don’t think he can leave the state.” My voice remains low, and I hate this. “But it’s important for you to know what’s going on.”

---