Page 39 of XOXO, Summer
The stab of betrayal digs deep, and I sit back and finish my beer. “You agree with him?”
“No. I just think it’s not for little kids. We’re teaching them to be nice to each other, to share, not to hit or bite?—”
“I’ve never bitten anyone.”
She cracks up laughing. “I’d hope not. My point is we teach little kids about manners and to take care of one another, and then bam, grown adults are beating the crap out of each other on TV.”
“Boxing. MMA, Cage?—”
“Doesn’t matter. Their owners aren’t trying to make it family-friendly. Your team’s owners are. And if they are, the other owners are as well. It’s probably a league-wide push.”
“Are you on their side or mine?”
Resting back in the chair, she lifts her heels to the edge, bringing her knees to her chest. Smooth legs and tanned skin. She fits her name better than any other ever could. With her arms wrapped around her legs, she says, “Yours, Sutton. But not because I think they’re entirely wrong. I’m on your side because it’s your love of this game that brings in the viewers. It’s your style of play that keeps you scoring. But mostly, why mess with perfection?” She doesn’t just butter me up. She slathers me in the stuff.
“Do you know how sexy it is to hear you say that?”
“I’m hoping very,” she replies, taking the last sip of her beer.
“Don’t doubt it for a second.”
I can feel my blood pulsing through my veins,as if reaching toward the woman curled up in the chair next to me. We watch Roman as he plays where the lawn falls under rocks that lead to the water. My gaze trails out to the ocean beyond. Without it, the cove would be quiet. Too quiet, if you ask me. But the water rolling in and out is a balm to the chaos in my head, a reminder to slow down. That my problems are less important if I focus on the moment instead.
Not everything needs to be resolved today. It was a request by Coach. A demand by the owners. I don’thaveto listen to either of them, though it is implied I should. They should know by now that I’m going to buck the system. Fans would revolt if I went soft on the ice. Are they really going to sacrifice their star player, who brings in millions in sponsorships, to make a point? Not in a million years.
She sets her feet on the ground again. “What does putting on a good PR show mean exactly?”
It’s not like I haven’t thought about it, but what that entails is more complicated yet has gotten diluted in the messaging. “It means I have to play nice.”
“And nice means? Not saying things you shouldn’t, and?”
“Be the golden boy they want me to be. Smile for the cameras. Use my son for photo ops. Be seen publicly with only one woman.”
I see her try so hard not to let the shock of my words control her, and she’s doing a decent job, but then asks, “Do you sleep with a lot of women?”
“No. But I used to.” This isn’t a topic I care to discuss, but I understand her interest. “I outgrew sowing my oats in my early thirties.”
“That late, huh?” She flashes a grin, and then it’s gone again.
“Truth?” I laugh humorlessly. “I had no reason to change.”
“Then why did you?”
“Because it wasn’t serving me anymore. I didn’t feel good, and I wasn’t happy. I wanted to be happy for my son. He watches me on TV fighting and pushing plays to the limits. When I was with him, I wanted to feel good, not fighting a hangover or bad mood, and for us to have fun because that’s how I want him to remember me.”
She sits up and gets to her feet. Coming to stand in front of me, she wedges my feet apart with the toe of her sneaker to slip into the opening. Resting her hands on my thighs, her lips are so close to mine as she eyes my mouth.The tease.It would only be a taste, so quick that I would have to savor the swift kiss. But I don’t kiss her yet. This isn’t how it should be, not with her. It should matter and have meaning, not just playing out my selfish fantasy.
“Caring about your son more than yourself . . . Nowthatis incredibly attractive in a man.”
Running my hands down the backs of her arms, I whisper, “Not sexy?”
“Sosexy.” Her breathing jags as she takes in a staggering breath. Moving closer, and closer still, she suddenly stops, standing stick straight with her eyes widening. “Dang it. I need to answer this. Hold my place, I’ve been waiting for Mrs. Dover to call me back.”
Turning away, she grabs her phone. “Hi.” She doesn’t get another word in before plugging her free ear and then looking down as she toes the decking. “He was such a jerk.” I’m not sure if she’s aware she’s even doing it, but she starts to pace in front of me. “If you had heard him . . . I understand.” She glances at me. “He’s taken care of.”So she says . .. I smirk.
She moves toward the house and out of my vantage point. I catch random words drifting back in the wind, such as “ripping you off,” and “rude,” and my favorite, “I have it all under control.”
While she finishes her call, I walk over to Roman, who’s plonked himself in the water, and kneel beside him. “Do you like it here?”
