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“We could call it the thirsty fuckers’ den. You know, with us no longer doing thirsty Thursday.”

I chuckle at his analogy, because he might not participate in the thirsty Thursday anymore, but I sure as hell do. Only now it’s me doing the drinking, straight from my wife’s tit.

As we head outside, the sunlight almost blinds me, and I hold my hand up to stop the glare.

“Where are you heading to now?” Owen asks.

I straighten my shoulders, widening my stance. “I’m coaching Bryce’s soccer team.”

Owen scoffs, then erupts into a fit of laughter, bending over and holds his stomach. I struggle to find the humor in my words and lift my lip in disgust at his so-called amusement. When he finally straightens, he tries to hide the smile threatening to erupt on his face, and my fists ball with annoyance. “You should probably take a cattle prod with you.” His lip twitches, and I want to unleash on the cocky prick.

“They’re not going to be that bad,” I snap.

His eyes are alight with glee, and he squeezes my shoulder. “They’re going to be so much worse.”

Then he walks away with a spring in his step, whistling as he heads toward his car while I shoot daggers at his back and scratch my head. “Probably have fucking lice in that godforsaken cellar,” I grumble to myself. “And I don’t give a shit what he says. I like kids now,” I say as I open my SUV door.

In fact, I fucking love them.

I’m a reformed man.

A family man.

Devoted, trusted, and compassionate. I’m the whole fucking package.

Now I need to show it to those I love the most in the world.

Reed Johnson is worthy, and I can’t wait to prove it.

EPILOGUE

REED

I hate kids.I fucking hate them. Most of them, anyway. Particularly the ones who don’t belong to me.

My day is a disaster. I gave up my valuable time as a lawyer to attend my first game as the coach for Bryce’s soccer team at the community center, and it sure as shit will be the last time.

I’ve been spat on, cried on. I’ve had other people’s children think it’s acceptable to use my sweatpants as a tissue for their snotty noses, and worse, one child actually puked on my sneakers. If the little chump hadn’t eaten so much candy before warming up on the soccer field I recently invested in, then this never would have occurred. But no, he seems to think he knows better, so much so he gave me the finger when I pointed out it wasn’t wise to eat candy before warming up.

I surmised he’d figure it out the hard way, but what I didn’t count on was him figuring it out the hard way and it ending up on my sneakers.

To top it off, Bubbles took a shit on the sideline, and a kid slipped in it. Somehow, it’s apparently my fault, and some woman who claimed to be the child’s mother, despite looking old enough to be their grandmother, started wagging her finger in my face while blowing out puffs of smoke at me. When I pointed out she can’t have marijuana around the kids, she produced a slip of paper that looked like a child wrote it, claiming she was taking it for medicinal purposes. Medicinal, my ass. Besides, it doesn’t mean it’s okay to have it around the kids.

The past few months have seen an influx of parents taking a newfound interest in the game, which added to my anxiety, and when I noticed their phones pointed in my direction, that made me cringe all the more.

I’m going to be the laughingstock at the office when the guys see the shit I’m having to deal with.

The new buildings I’ve provided for the center have helped with my willingness to coach, especially the specially designed breakroom that was much needed for the staff and volunteers, which has doubled in numbers in recent weeks.

The bug spray Gia gave me doesn’t work. I’ve literally created a circle of doom around me with it, and to top it all off, I triggered some poor kid’s asthmatic issue, and the next thing I knew, the game was being cut short all because of one little kid’s inability to breathe through some bug spray.

When Bryce told me he had the best game ever, it made it all worthwhile, but then he followed it up with that he’d never laughed so much in his entire life at how hopeless I am. I wanted to kick his legs from under him, despite me normally liking him.

“Maybe it wasn’t as bad as you think?” Gia chews on her bottom lip as I sit on the edge of the bed feeling nothing short of traumatized.

“It was awful, Gia. Kids are pricks, even the girls.” I throw myself back against the mattress dramatically.

She snorts on a laugh, and I glare at her, and she tries but fails to make her face serious.