Page 20 of Ugly Duckling
I knew it had something to do with her ADHD, which was why I barely remembered bringing Gunner up.
But no one had to bring Gunner up at all when his son had passed away.
It was the talk of our small town.
The poor man had lost his entire world before his life had gotten started.
I’d cried my eyes out when I’d heard that Jett had passed away.
I’d been training for the Olympics at the time and hadn’t been able to make it home for the funeral—my coach at the time was a complete dick.
I hadn’t realized that Gunner had another child, though.
Damn Rocky and her ADHD for not letting me know.
Not that I really felt like I had the right to know or anything. Gunner and I had only ever been acquaintances at best.
Sometimes we shared the same awards at sporting events in our male and female events.
“Hi!” the little girl with the curly blonde hair like her daddy’s chirped. “Want some?”
She held out a completely smashed donut hole, and I smiled before replying breathlessly, “No, honey. You eat that. I’ll get something when I’m done resting.”
She popped it in her mouth, and I watched as the glaze from her donut hole fell all over her lap.
Damn, she was a cute little thing.
She had the same eyes and dimples as her father, too.
Just like Jett had.
The poor man.
I’d bet it hurt like hell to look at the little girl sometimes. I’d met Jett a handful of times, but the kid was damn near the most adorable thing I’d ever met in my life.
Though, it turns out Gunner’s other child was getting a close second.
“Here.”
Gunner appeared moments later with a water bottle, a chocolate milk, two white cups with forks in them, and two plates with waffles and syrup on them.
“Whoa,” I said as I took the chocolate milk. “I can’t eat that.”
“Why not?” he asked, sounding mad.
I grimaced. “Because if I eat it, I’ll throw up. I just spent the last two and a half hours busting my a—butt trying to keep up with you.”
He nodded. “Understandable. I’ll leave it right here for when you’re ready.”
He took the seat beside me and started to idly crack his fingers, starting with the pinky on one hand and ending with the pinky on the other. “What are you doing in Dallas?”
I scratched the back of my neck, feeling the dried sweat there. “I got a divorce. And that town is too small for the both of us.”
“You were married?”
The way he said it instantly had my hackles raised.
“I was married for about six months,” I snapped.
