The Perfect Play

“Nathan?”


He finally lifted his gaze to hers. “Look, I didn’t want you to go all batshit ... uh ... crazy on me about it. I called him and asked if he wanted to watch my first game. He said he’d love to. I left a ticket for him. He came to the locker room before the game, talked to the guys. No big deal, okay?”

“You missed him.”

Nathan shrugged. “Just thought he might want to see me play.”

Tears pricked her eyes. God, this kid needed a man in his life. “I’m sorry, Nathan. This is why I don’t date.”

“Bullshit. Stop using me.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

“You’ve kept your life on hold because of me. You don’t let anyone get close to you because of me.”

“That’s not true.”

“You love Mick. Don’t you?”

She opened her mouth to deny it but then stopped herself.

“Don’t bother saying a word. It’s obvious you’re practically crying yourself to sleep every night. I don’t know why you’re being such a big baby about this, Mom. You love him. He loves you. Simple, right?”

She rubbed her temple. “No, Nathan. It’s not simple.”

“Then tell me what the problem is.”

“The problem is between Mick and me and is none of your business.”

“Why don’t you quit treating me like I’m a little kid and start treating me like maybe I can handle some grown-up problems? I’m always going to be here for you when sh—when stuff happens that’s bad. You don’t have to make life perfect for me. I know bad things happen. I know you had a shitty—fine I’ll just say it—a shitty life when you were younger. That doesn’t mean you have to look for the bad in every thing and every person. Not everyone is like that. Mick isn’t like that.”

She held up her hand. “Okay, wait a minute.”

“No. I’m not going to wait. And I don’t think you should wait anymore either. You put your life on hold for me. And really, I get that. I appreciate it. But I’m not a baby anymore. Let go, Mom.”

She stood there, speechless, looking at her little boy who had grown up and was now giving her advice. “I guess you have grown up. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Just stop using me as an excuse for not doing what you really want.”

She inhaled, let it out. “Do you think I’ve been doing that?”

“Not always. But with Mick? Yeah. And stop it.”

She nodded, flabbergasted at her son, who had somehow grown up when she wasn’t looking. “Okay. I will.”

“I like him, too, Mom.”

She sucked in a breath, realized she hadn’t been the only one to love Mick.

“I know you do.”

“He’s not a bad guy.”

“No, he’s not.”

“Even if you don’t get back with him, I want to be friends with him. Would that be okay?”

She sat on the brick wall and held her son’s hands. Surprisingly, he let her. “That would be fine. I can’t think of anyone who’s a better person to be in your life than Mick.”

Nathan grabbed her up into a fierce hug that brought a rush of tears to her eyes.

“I love you. Gotta go. Bye.”

“Bye.” She laughed through the tears as he ran off with his friends.

“Go find Mick and tell him you love him,” Nathan yelled when he was halfway down the parking lot.

Tara was mortified, but the kids all laughed, and Bobby’s parents just waved and shook their heads.

Oh sure, her kid dropped this epic pronouncement about maturity and love on her, then ran off for pizza. He’d understood it all so easily, when she clearly hadn’t.

Youth. She certainly hadn’t been that smart when she was his age.

She got into her car and started it up, then made the turn for home, got a block down the road, and abruptly pulled onto the freeway.

Nathan was right. It was time to stop being scared and stop making excuses.

She knew what she wanted, and it was time to go get it.





TWENTY-ONE


MICK HAD JUST FINISHED TAKING A SHOWER WHEN HE heard the doorbell.

“Shit.” He grabbed a pair of pants and shrugged into them, throwing the zipper up while flying down the stairs. He’d ordered the pizza, figuring it would be at least an hour before it arrived.

He grabbed his wallet and pulled the door open.

It wasn’t the pizza guy. It was Tara.

“Oh. I thought you were pizza delivery.”

She swallowed, her throat working as she did it again. “No pizza here. Sorry. Can I come in?”

“Sure.” He stepped out of the way and closed the door behind her. “I was in the shower.”

“I can see that.” Her gaze raked over his chest and lower, and damn his dick for noticing her lingering where he hadn’t bothered buttoning his pants. “Want something to drink?”

“Water would be good.”

He went to the kitchen and filled up glasses with water for both of them, dragging his fingers through his still-wet hair before carrying the water out.

“Thanks.”

“Sit down.”

Jaci Burton's books