Page 56 of Let You Love Me

I snort at the same time my gaze focuses on Atlas, who’s unusually quiet. Out of the four of us, he’s always a little less vocal, a little more serious, but the tight set of his jaw and intense look in his eyes tells me he has something he’s not saying.

“Atlas, you’re quiet. What are you thinking, man?”

“I mean . . .” His jaw works as he stares off into space. Then as if choosing his words carefully, he says, “Out of the four of us, you’re the only one with parents who aren’t fucked up. I don’t know, so it kind of makes sense to me that out of all of us, you’d be the one who could handle the complexities that come with dating a chick with a kid.”

His answer draws me up short, and I can tell by the silence of the others, it surprises them, too.

“I mean, you come from a home where you’re completely loved by two parents who were always there for you,” he continues. “Which means you have a great example of what it is to be a rolemodel and what healthy relationships look like.” He glances next to him on the couch and reaches out to Mackenzie, who appears to be intently listening while staring at him, her expression soft. It makes me wonder if Atlas doesn’t worry about having a family of his own one day, and how he’ll do as a father since his own upbringing was so fucked up.

He glances back at the screen and shrugs. “If anyone can make this work, it’s you. The question is, do you want to? Do you still want her, knowing all it entails?”

I feel the intensity of everyone’s attention boring a hole through the screen.

Do I still want Lane knowing she has a daughter?

I feel like my answer should be no. I’m too busy, and I have no idea what the hell I’m doing. If you ask me if I’m ready to be a father yet, the answer is no. But Lane isn’t asking me to be anything. Hell, I had to convince her to even allow me in her life enough to be her friend.

But I do know I can be a role model. Tonight with Sophie was fun, and Lane is fucking amazing. Her having a child changes none of that. Not one fucking thing. If anything, it adds another dynamic to her person, another layer for me to love.

She had a baby at seventeen.

That takes guts.

Grit.

Strength.

She didn’t shirk her responsibilities. Instead, she dealt with them head-on and did it with fucking grace. I watched as she sat there tonight and cared for Sophie with love in her eyes instead of bitterness and resentment. She could have easily developed a chip on her shoulder after whatever happened with Sophie’s father—assuming he’s not in the picture—but she didn’t. That much I can see from the little time I’ve spent with her.

I mean, sure, maybe she’s a little distrustful of men, and maybe she’s scared of relationships, but I get the feeling it’s because she wears her heart on her sleeve, not because she’s bitter about the things she’s had to sacrifice to get to where she is. Andthatmakes her even more attractive than I could ever imagine.

Hell, Graham is right. Idohave it bad for this chick, and the crazy part is I’ve only known her for a week.

Do you still want her, knowing all it entails?

“Yes,” I answer, and the fist inside my chest loosens, my mood lifts.

I don’t care who the father is or whether she has a daughter. I still want Lane Turner all the same.

Chapter 13

TEAGAN

It takes damn neartwenty minutes to track Lane down, which is a lot considering I’m in a time crunch. I know she starts work around two o’clock based on our conversation yesterday, and after searching the locker rooms, stadium, and surrounding grounds, I finally find her in the laundry facility on the ground floor of Wyndham Hall after asking Mark where she might be.

I think of the question in his eyes and his raised brow at my inquiry and grimace.

I can only hope he doesn’t mention to Coach why I stopped by, but I find it hard to care as I step inside the murky basement and the clean scent of laundry detergent hits me in the nose.

I walk through the hall and down the stairs to ground level where I pass underneath an archway that leads to a large, well-lit space where I find Lane, standing at a wash basin wringing out uniforms by hand before slapping them into a large bin.

I clear my throat, and her head lifts.

Her eyes focus before her mouth parts, and several seconds pass before she asks, “What are you doing here?”

She lifts her chin as if preparing for my answer. Shoulders back, posture rigid, she’s the picture of cool indifference. Any fissures I might have formed in her walls last night have long since closed thanks to my ignorance.

I take a step forward, slowly, as if she’s a caged animal I’m afraid of spooking, and I wait until I’m only a couple feet away before I shove my hands in my pockets and swallow my nerves.