Page 43 of Off Limits: The Firsts

There are so many ways I can take his question, so many ways I can answer it, and so I don’t say anything. Does he mean am I going to be able to get Easton back on the field in the allotted time? Does he mean that he can see right through me, knows something happened between Easton and me, and is wondering if it will jeopardize my standing with the club?

When he chuckles at my lack of response, it’s music to my ears. He’s let me off the hook without answering.

“How is it you can have two kids, raise them exactly the same, and they turn out so completely different?” he asks, and I know now that he didn’t let me off the hook at all. His chuckle was just prepping me for the schooling he’s about to give. “You were always pushing boundaries while Ford was . . . he was always so concerned with making everyone happy. You were always willing to take risks, and he was always the one who would stay the course. You were always so hard to read, and he was the open book. You were opposites in so many ways, and yet so very much alike it scared me some days.”

I watch him. The lines in his face may have changed over time, with age and illness, but he still looks the same, still seems the same, and it’s hard to believe he’s really that sick. That he’s mortal and not the invincible man the little girl in me still sees.

“But you changed, Scouty girl. After Ford died, I know you tried to be both for me. That you stepped into his shoes—tried to give me pieces of both of you—even though some days I know it killed you to be someone you weren’t . . . but you did it for me. So, thank you. I wanted you to know I appreciate that.”

“Dad . . .” I fight back the emotions his acknowledgement churns up. Hearing he knew how hard I’d worked to try and fill the hole Ford’s death left in our family—and in his heart—means more to me than he’ll ever know.

And at the same time, I hate hearing it. I hate wondering if he’s slowly checking items off his mental list of things left to say, and that this is the slow, winding path of him starting to say good-bye.

“You promised you wouldn’t cry.”

“I’m not.” I sniffle and swallow what feels like a boulder in my throat. “I just don’t understand why you insist on not letting me—”

“I have my reasons,” he barks, and stuns me into wondering what the hell just upset him so much.

I stare at him, wanting to question him, to finish my thought. But I shift my gaze to the field outside again, to the good memories of playing hide and seek with Ford for hours, to try and abate the tears sobbing silently within me.

“He’d be thirty, this month, you know.”

“I know.” The silence stretches between us, interrupted only by the rattle of his breath. “No father should have to bury his son,” I whisper, not sure if it’s to remind me or to reassure him.

“And no daughter should be left all alone to bury her father.”

A fucking text?

That’s how she’s going to play this bullshit game with me? Leave me to do my rehab by myself because she can’t face me or the fact that the other night was incredible and she left without a word?

“I just can’t.” Seriously? Those three words were all she could give me before hanging up, followed by a text detailing my rehab routine for the day? Four reps of weighted arm swings and the rest of the regimen?

Total bullshit.

Fucking women.

But I should be happy about this, right? She’s not Doc. She’s nowhere near as skilled, experienced, or knowledgeable as him. So maybe if I bitch about her, tell the GM, then they’ll demand Doc come here instead. He’s the best after all.

If that’s the case, then why do I want her? How come I keep thinking about that look in her eyes and the feel of her body and the sound of her laugh?

She’s frustrating.

And sexy.

She’s stubborn and unrelenting.

And goddamn beautiful.

She’s fucking irritating is what she is.

She doesn’t want to pick up the phone? Then fine. I’ve got this. I’ll bust my ass on my own. I don’t need her. I knew that the first day I met her.

But I like her.

Fuck if that isn’t perfect. And fitting. Wanting a woman I can’t have.

Wanting a woman who could cause trouble if others found out.