Page 7 of The Offside Rule
“They’re unfortunately similar,” I said with a crooked grin.
He leaned back against the table and crossed his arms. “You dating anyone?”
I groaned. “Seriously, Cole?”
“What?” He shrugged.
“No,” I deadpanned.
This was nothing new.
“That was fast,” he said.
“Because the answer never changes.”
“That’s the problem.”
I knew his concern was coming from a good place. We had a few married guys on the team, and my parents were happily married to the point that they still acted like horny twenty-somethings, which was something I didn’t want to think about.
“My dating life is not a team issue,” I said because I didn’t have anything better.
I knew he was acting as my friend right now and not my coach, but I had been burned and had no intention of ever settling down. I was happy raising my daughter. She filled my life with joy. Watching her grow and knowing I had raised such an amazing kid felt like a privilege.
“No, but your permanent misery is,” Cole said.
Damn. He wasn’t letting this go.
“I’m not miserable.”
He gave me a flat look. “You’re thirty-three, not dead.”
“Bro, I’m good. I’m happy.”
“You have a good life, Hunter. Great kid. Great career. You don’t have to spend the rest of it alone.”
As if I didn’t have my mom on my case all the time. Now I needed my coach to lay it on thick too. I looked toward the pool, where Isla was laughing so hard she had to grab Mila’s shoulder to stay above water.
“I’m not alone,” I said.
Cole’s voice softened. “You know what I mean.”
The problem was that I’d tried that once. Marriage. Family. It was my whole damn dream. And it had blown up in my face before I’d even made it out of the reception hall. My ex-wife had looked me in the eye and told me she was pregnant. Told me the baby was mine. Told me we had to do the right thing. I’d been young enough, stupid enough, and raised with enough money that she knew exactly how to play me. So, I married her.
Then, hours after the vows, after the champagne and speeches and fake smiles, I found her with another man, nailing her at my damn wedding. That was how I learned the baby had never been mine. By the next morning, the marriage was over, the honeymoon was ruined, and I was on a plane to Fiji alone because I couldn’t stand the thought of staying while everyonewhispered about what a fool, I’d been. Fiji was supposed to be an escape. Instead, it became the place where I met Monique. She was beautiful, French and reckless with sun-warmed skin, a wicked smile, and an accent that made everything sound softer than it was. She didn’t want forever. She just helped me forget that my chest felt like it had been cracked open and emptied out.
I thought that was all it was. A few days of fun in paradise. A memory I could leave on the other side of the world. Then months later, she called with news that she was pregnant. She didn’t want the baby. She was honest about that from the start. She planned to give her up for adoption, said it would be better for everyone, said she wasn’t made to be a mother. The second she told me, something in me went still. That baby was mine. And I knew, with a certainty I’d never felt about anything before, that I wanted her. So, I brought Isla home. I learned diapers and bottles and midnight fevers. I learned how to braid hair badly and make pancakes shaped like hearts. I learned how terrifying it was to love someone more than my own life. Isla became my world. The one good thing that came out of the worst season of my life. So no, I didn’t date. I didn’t bring women in and out of her life. I didn’t chase distractions. I didn’t risk her stability because I was lonely or tired or because other people thought I should move on. Everything I did revolved around Isla. And I’d never regretted that.
Cole watched me for a long second, like he knew exactly where my head had gone. He didn’t push. That was one of the reasons I loved the guy.
He just tipped his beer toward the pool and said, “She’s a great kid.”
My throat tightened.
“Yeah,” I said. “She is.”
A black SUV pulled up out front a few minutes later, saving me from whatever else Cole had planned to say. My parents,Oli and Sloane Russell, arrived with apologies about traffic, my mother sweeping into the backyard like a warm breeze and immediately searching for Isla.
“There’s my granddaughter,” Mom called.
