Page 5 of The Comeback

“Weston, you can’t be saddled with us. We’ll find our own place.”

“I won’t hear of it. You’ll live with me. I’ve got money.” Much to my ex-girlfriend’s disappointment, I have most of my money since I started my career. She wanted me to live a more lavish lifestyle. Thankfully, I didn’t listen to her.

“Dear….”

But it won’t last forever. The unspoken words hang in the air. “Mom, everything will be fine. I have a great opportunity here, and I’m not going to screw it up.”

“I know you won’t.” The love and belief in her voice warms my heart. “But we’ll look for a small place to rent. You need to be able to bring a girl home without your mom plopped in a rocking chair in the living room.”

“Mom, a woman is not in the cards right now.” Helena dumped me the night of my injury and hooked up with another player on the team. I’m not on the market for another gold digger.

I should have been smart enough to know she was a cleat chaser, but…. Ah, hell, I knew, but I didn’t care. I was living every little boy’s dream. Top football player. Decent money in the bank. A gorgeous girl on my arm.

Sadly, I didn’t know what rock bottom looked like until the proverbial bottom dropped out. Now, I do. Women aren’t looking for a has-been, washed-up football star with no prospect of that big haul. They want the superstar. The man who throws around hundred-dollar bills at the strip club. The high roller. Not the dude with the scars and the whispers behind his back.

Chapter Three

That Evening

Charlotte

When I see Tara, I smile and wave. We’ve been friends since elementary school when we sat next to each other in the library. And even though she’s married now with a one-year-old, we try to get together at least once a month.

As I near the booth she’s in, I dodge past a couple headed to the dancefloor. Even on a Sunday night, Callahan’s Bar is packed. “Sorry, I’m late.”

“You’re fine.” Tara waves to the seat opposite her. “I ordered us the sampler platter.”

“Oh, lord.” I clutch my stomach. “I was going to order a salad.”

“One of your mom’s famous Sunday dinners?”

“Yes.” I flop into the seat. “Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and gravy.”

“Yum.” Her eyes glow. “I miss Sunday dinners. If Dylan wasn’t such an amazing husband and father, I’d hook-up with one of your brothers just to get some food.”

“Please.” I roll my eyes. “You know my brothers suck.”

She laughs and lifts her glass of water. Water? My eyes widen. “Are you pregnant?”

Her laughter evaporates, and her eyes dart around the room. “Yes, I am. We found out this week, but we haven’t told anyone yet.” She’s living the dream. Good job. Rich husband. Adorable toddler. And now another baby.

I tamp down the urge to strangle her in a fit of jealousy and clasp my hands together on the table. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” She smiles, and all my envy evaporates. I love Tara. There’s no reason to hate on her. Someday, I’ll find a man who worships the ground I walk on. Hopefully, it happens before I’m old and senile and miss it happening. I want to get some goodie out of him.

A few moments later, the waitress brings us our food. The platter is heaped with fried cauliflower, broccoli, and potato skins. You can almost pretend you’re eating healthy if you skip the ranch dressing, peel off the battering, and skip the potatoes.

I snatch up a breaded cauliflower and drunk it into the ranch, getting plenty on it, so I’m not tempted to double-dip. My mouth waters as the food nears my lips. “Delicious.”

Yeah, I’m not at any risk of pretending it’s healthy. I inhale the appetizer, sigh, and close my eyes. “These are so good.”

“How’s everything going? Are you seeing anyone?”

I pop my eyes open. “There’s an elderly gentleman that sits at the front table at the coffee shop. He’s there every day. And the barista. She’s super nice.” It’s easier to be flippant than admit how abysmal my dating life looks. “And there’s an adorable five-year-old who started ballet this week.”

She glares. “You’re such a pain in the ass. You know I meant dating.”

“Yes, I know.” I shrug and grab a potato skin, placing it onto the serving plate the waitress left. I love these little guys. Just a little bit of potato, crispy melted cheese, green onions, and bacon bits. “Nothing is going on in the man department. I don’t have time to meet anyone.”

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