Page 16 of Discretion at Its Finest

The morning sun spilled across the dewy grass as Eugene darted ahead, clutching the small soccer ball we’d picked up last week. He looked over his shoulder, grinning, his sneakers crunching against the gravel of the courtyard.

“No running, Lovebug,” I called after him, knowing my warning was likely to go unnoticed.

Gregory had already left for the office early in the morning with nothing but the cold, empty sheets as a goodbye.

Eugene kicked the ball forward, chasing after it with clumsy determination. His laugh carried across the yard, bright and unbothered, and for a moment, it eased the tightness in my chest.

“Mommy, did you see that?” he shouted, his little soccer uniform swallowing him.

Opening my car door, I set my belongings down. “I saw,” I said, smiling.

This wasn’t really about Eugene learning how to play soccer. Not yet, at least. It was about giving him somewhere to spill allthat endless energy, instead of tearing through our living room with his toy cars.

If we were lucky, he might learn how to follow a whistle, or at least kick in the right direction. Even if I knew the reality of it would be just a bunch of toddlers chasing one ball the wrong way.

Despite that, I wanted him to have this, his first uniform, his first little team, his first chance to feel part of something that was just his. If only his father would care enough to show up, to clap for him on the sidelines, to be present for the little wins and celebrate his accomplishments.

Eugene deserved that. Deserved more than a distracted kiss on the forehead or the promise of a later that never came.

“Uncle Reid!”I heard him yell, and instantly, my head whipped over my shoulder, giving me whiplash.

The black Lincoln idled at the edge of the courtyard, sleek and gleaming, sunlight glinting off the chrome. The driver had barely cut the engine before Reid stepped out.

Eugene darted toward him, ball forgotten, sneakers slapping. My pulse spiked, legs locking in place as Reid crouched down easily and scooped him up with one arm, the other settling a hand against Eugene’s back like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Look at you,” Reid said, his voice holding excitement. “Ready for the first day on the field?”

Eugene nodded so fast his hair flopped into his eyes. “I’m gonna score!”

“Can’t wait to see it happen, bud.” Reid chuckled, low in his chest. It caused a sense of warmth to flow through me, a feeling I wanted to die the second it came.

Heat burned my face, fury and panic colliding as I approached. “Put him down, Reid,” I seethed, low enough so only he could hear me.

Instead of listening, he smiled smugly, ruffling Eugene’s hair before lowering him back gently to the ground. Eugene ran back to wherever he’d discarded his ball, brimming with joy and excitement.

“What are you doing here?”

Reid straightened slowly, his gaze dragging over me in a way that virtually made my skin burn. “He needed a proper send-off on his first day.”

I narrowed my eyes. “It’s little league soccer. Half of the time, he’ll be kicking and missing the soccer ball that’s half his size, and the other half, he’ll be sitting on the sidelines with a juice box.”

Reid slipped his hands into his pockets, as though he had every right to stand there in the middle of my morning. “He still deserves having someone in the stands. Besides, Gregory’s busier these days… Not gonna be around much for the little guy. Someone ought to be.”

My jaw clenched, the retort catching in my throat as Eugene’s laughter carried across the yard. “You don’t get to insert yourself into this,” I hissed. “This isn’t about you.”

His smirk curved into something that made my skin crawl. “Of course it isn’t, Vieve, it’s about the kids… isn’t it, little guy?” he asked an oblivious Eugene, who was busy kicking at the ball. His eyes landed back on me and then they lingered, pinning me to the ground more effectively than his hands ever could.

I tore my gaze away, forcing myself toward my car. “We’re going to be late. We’re leaving now.”

“Perfect,” Reid said easily, striding after me. “Marcus will drive.”

Heat clawed at my throat. “That won’t be necessary—”

“It is,” he cut me off smoothly, stepping between me and my car. “If you’re coming to the office with me after.”

My breath caught. “I’m not—”

“You are.”