Page 82 of Cross Check Daddies
“You think he’s out?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I think... he needs space. But we all do. Doesn’t mean he won’t come back.”
Tanner glances over. “Yeah. But why leave now?”
I drag my hand down my face. “Because this isn’t just about Brooke for him. It’s about all the shit he’s carried for years. The things he never talks about. An old relationship he lost. He’s been through hell, and now this? It’s not just a baby. It’s another maybe. Another chance he’s scared to believe in.”
Tanner’s quiet, letting me say it.
“He doesn’t know how to stand in the middle of all this and not brace for something to go wrong. So yeah... I think he needs space. Not because he doesn’t care. But because he does.”
Tanner studies me. “Doyouwant him to come back?”
I close my eyes.
“I don’t know,” I whisper. “I need a minute to think.”
“Okay.”
And for once, Tanner doesn’t push. Doesn’t joke. Just lets me sit there, breathing in the heavy quiet of wanting the same woman, and being willing to lose a little bit of her if it means we don’t lose her completely.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Ace
The place is a mess.Beer bottles scattered across the coffee table, the rug, the kitchen counter. One’s somehow under my damn foot, and I almost eat shit stepping over it as I move toward the window, blinds barely cracked. Miami sunlight slices through like it’s mocking me for hiding in here all day.
I didn’t go to practice. I texted Leo at 6 a.m. and told him to run drills, handle the scrimmage, and watch out for Beau’s wrist. He said he had it. I didn’t respond. Didn’t have it in me.
I just sit here with the taste of regret in my mouth, trying not to think about Brooke saying she’s pregnant and not knowing if the kid is mine.
I want to be okay with that. I want to be steady and mature and evolved. But deep down, I know myself.
I know what happens when I get attached and start picturing a life and then have to watch it dissolve.
The doorbell rings. I glance at the time and squint toward the hallway. I don’t remember ordering anything.
I crack the door and in walks Leo, clipboard under one arm, expression like he’s about to flip the entire room over.
“What the hell is going on?” he says, stopping short when he sees the state of the place.
I rub the back of my neck, suddenly feeling the weight of it. “It’s not what it looks like.”
“It looks like you’re spiraling.”
“That’s probably accurate then.”
He crosses to the window and yanks the blinds open fully. “You skipped practice. I ended up covering everything, but half the guys think you’re sick, the other half think you had a breakdown.”
“Neither’s wrong.”
“Dude.”
“Yeah,” I say.
“You okay?”
“No.”
