Page 18

Easton

I t’s been days and I’m still thinking about that goddamn magazine. And what’s worse is that I went from seeing Paige all the fucking time, even when I didn’t want to, to her being nowhere in sight.

And it’s driving me crazy.

“I think Reed and Bria had a fight,” Luke says, sidling up to me when we get onto the field for practice, his words confusing me as they cut into my thoughts.

“What?”

“I think Reed and Bria are fighting,” he repeats and I wish I’d never asked.

“Who the fuck is Bria and why do I care?”

“Bria is Reed’s bestie. You know. The girl he went to college with.”

Huh ? I stare at him confused. “How the hell would I know who he went to college with? And again…why do I care?”

Luke shakes his head as though I’m being a dick and keeps talking. “You should care because he’s moodier than usual and he needs our help.”

“So, help him. You don’t need me.”

“Yeah. I do. I’m not good at that stuff. You helped me once; I know you can do it again. Let’s get a drink after practice. The three of us. I could even call Dylan. We can get the support gang together.”

“Call us the ‘support gang’ again, and you’ll be the one needing help. I’ve already got plans.”

“Tomorrow then,” he counters. “Or Saturday.”

“For fuck’s sake.” He’s relentless. “Don’t you have a wife and kid to go home to?”

“Yeah. I do. But this is important, and my wife would understand that.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not as lucky.”

Luke grimaces before running his hand through his hair. “Fuuck. I didn’t mean—”

“I know,” I cut him off. “Coach is calling you to line up,” I lie, watching as Luke turns in the direction we last saw Coach before I walk away, leaving him alone. Fucking “support gang.” We’re not friends. I’ve left that chat more than I’ve contributed to it. I’m good with group workouts. Or talk about the game. But I don’t need to be involved in anyone else’s business, and they don’t need to be involved in mine.

A memory of my day out with Luke comes to mind and I internally groan. I should have left him alone because now he won’t shut up about it. And yet, I can’t completely regret it because it seems to have helped him. I can, however, refuse to do it again.

Coach actually blows the whistle for us to line up, and my mind shifts into game mode. Though I do find myself glancing over at Reed. I hate to say it, but Luke’s right—Reed’s usually sunny persona seems to have disappeared.

Though I have full confidence in Luke and Dylan to help him out.

I throw myself into our practice session, pushing myself to the limits, blocking the world out of my mind. And when I’m done, Paige’s dad is waiting on the sidelines, his gaze directed at me, a smile on his face, while I have no doubt mine pales as the blood drains away.

“Easton, hi. Can I have a word?”

“Of course.” I force a smile but… Fuck . He found out. We haven’t even been formally introduced, so why else would he know me by name and want a word with me. I’m about to be fucked…and not in a good way.

“What can I do for you?” I ask when we’ve moved out of earshot.

He smiles awkwardly and huffs out a breath. Here it comes. “I need to get in touch with Keeley and she’s not answering her phone.”

“What?” I do a double take and he laughs.

“Sorry, I know I’m not supposed to know about the two of you. But she mentioned it, and I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

Again, what? A few days ago she hadn’t even met him, and now he’s desperate to speak to her?

“Ah. She…” Dammit . How do I tell him that Keeley’s taken the morning off to look after my son because my mom had an appointment? “She usually switches her phone off in meetings,” I say instead. “I think she mentioned she had one until around midday today.”

“Great.” He breathes a sigh of relief. “Perfect. I’ll try her again after that. Thank you.”

He pats my back before walking away and it’s my turn to sigh. We were lucky if we saw the previous owner once a month and that was usually just in passing. I swear Paige’s father is everywhere. Or am I just seeing him so much because I don’t want to? Kind of like when you buy a new truck that you think is unique and then all of a sudden everyone has one. Fuck, he’s just like Paige. Until now. Now she’s disappeared. And I should consider that a blessing. Because while I’m certain Salvatore D’Angelo doesn't know about Paige and me, with hundreds of new faces for him to remember, he now knows mine. And that’s one step closer to him finding out.

D etermined to push Paige from my mind, I detour on my drive home to avoid going past the newsstand. Only I find myself looking for the damn magazine at the gas station when I fill up my truck. And then again at the register of the store when I stop to grab food for the week.

But like Paige, it’s nowhere to be found.

It’s like that newsstand had the only copy in existence. Or I imagined the whole damn thing. Which is possible with the million things I have running through my head at any given moment.

When I finally make it home, sans magazine, the apartment is unusually quiet. I panic until I see a text from my mom telling me she’s taken Isaac to the pool and to use the time to rest.

To rest.

I’m not sure I even know what that feels like anymore. There’s always something twisting my body in knots, and today, it’s Paige.

After unpacking the groceries and deciding on dinner, I spend twenty minutes flicking through the options on TV, hoping to distract myself from my thoughts but failing miserably until I find a replay of the Giants baseball game from the weekend.

Feet up, I take Mom’s advice and it’s surprisingly not as difficult as I thought it would be.

I’m partway through the second inning when the door slams open and Isaac comes charging through the house. “Daaadddy.”

“In here, Little Buddy.” I sit up just in time for him to dive on top of me.

“Can we play the pinning game?”

“The spinning game? Now? It’s almost dinnertime.”

“Please.” He hits me with a huge grin and it’s so adorable, I can’t say no.

“Okay. Let’s play the spinning game.”

“Yeah.” He jumps up and starts pulling at the coffee table, trying to move it on his own. “Dad.” Heave. “I.” Heave. “Help, please.”

With little effort, I shift the table behind the couch, giving us plenty of room to spin, and then it’s on. Arms linked, I spin Isaac around until his legs are flying through the air, his giggles drawing Mom’s attention.

“Hi, Mom.” I nod in her direction. “All good at your appointment today?” I ask, my vision blurring as the dizziness overwhelms me. “Hang on, Buddy. I need a quick break.”

I lower Isaac to the floor and he loses his balance. “Woah.” He spins on his own before flopping onto the couch.

Mom laughs as she joins us. “My appointment was fine. How was your day?”

“Uneventful.”

“That’s nice. Oh…we saw that girl from your work. The big boss’s daughter I think you called her.”

Paige . Goddammit. And I was doing so well. “Oh yeah? I’m surprised you remembered her.”

Mom laughs as she shakes her head. “I know I’m older than you but I’m not losing my memory yet.”

“Come on.” I roll my eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just didn’t think you saw her.”

“I saw enough. Is she an artist?”

“Huh?”

“An artist. Is your boss’s daughter an artist?”

“How the hell would I know?” I only know she’s one hell of a model and a goddess with her m—

“No need to get all”—she looks at Isaac still rolling around on the couch—“grumpy about it.” I have no doubt that if we’d been alone, she would not have used the term grumpy.

“I’m not grumpy. I just don’t know her. At all.” That’s not a complete lie, so I don’t feel that bad about it.

“Next time I see her, I’m going to ask.”

“Ask what?”

“If she’s an artist. Jeez.”

“Come on, Mom. Don’t do that. Please leave her in peace.”

“Why? Are you worried I’ll make you look bad?”

“What?” My eyes widen of their own accord. “Why would I be worried about that?”

“Because of your big boss?” She raises an eyebrow as though she’s caught me doing something I shouldn’t be doing. But she’s fishing. She’s got nothing. Because there’s nothing to get. Paige and I are over. Done. Finito.

“He doesn’t even know who I am, Mom. But I’d prefer you left P— his daughter alone.”

“Okay.” She smiles to herself. “I will.”

Mom thankfully moves on to other topics, and after dinner, Isaac and I walk her to her car before I get him ready for bed.

Despite asking Isaac how his day was several times throughout the night, he only manages to remember after I’ve switched off the light, having convinced myself he was asleep.

“The girl was nice today,” he tells me as I’m closing the door.

“What girl?”

“The one at the pool.”

Shit, now he’s talking about Paige. “That’s good. What did she do?”

“She helped me when I fell over.”

“You fell over? Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I was running.” He hides his face and I smile.

“You won’t do that again, will you?”

“No. Water is lippry.”

“It is. I’m happy the girl was there to help.”

“Me too. She didn’t get mad.”

I should hope not. “Did you think she would?”

“Mom did. When I fell over at the zoo.”

She what? Jesus, Macy.

“You never told me you hurt yourself at the zoo.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

Shit.

Walking to the bed, I tuck him back in and lie beside him before pressing a kiss to his forehead. “You’re not in trouble for falling or for not telling me. I just want to know you’re okay. Always. I care about you.”

“Okay.” I’m not sure my words have sunk in, but when he lets out a loud yawn, I park the conversation for another time.

“Time to sleep.”

“Okay, Daddy. Good night.”

“Good night, Isaac. I love you.”

He immediately rolls over, so I chance leaving the room again, quietly pulling the door shut before switching on the monitor.

As soon as I’ve cleaned up, I fall into bed, exhausted, purposely bringing Paige to mind so I don’t get worked up about Macy.

She got mad at him for falling over? He’s three and— No, think of Paige. Paige who I can’t find while everyone else does.

Maybe she’s avoiding me. God knows I should be doing the same thing. If only I could stop thinking .

I allow myself a moment to picture her, to question what she’s doing, to imagine my face between her legs, and then my mind drifts to the cover of her magazine.

Again.

Maybe I need to see the pictures to take my mind off it. Once I know, I’ll be able to move on. It’s a stupid curiosity thing. And it’s taking up too much of my headspace.

Decision made, I bring up a search engine and type in her name. At least, I type Paige D’Angelo, assuming she has the same last name as her father.

I get hit after hit of associated links. Some take me to gossip sites with paparazzi shots of Paige out and about in New York, some take me to social media, showing me her personal pages or photos she’s tagged in, and a lot of links take me to fashion magazines. She’s definitely a model and Goddammit…I don’t need to see these. The idea was that I’d move on, but fuck, she’s stunning. She has an edge to her that differs from the other models in the shots and— who the fuck is that guy? He’s draped over her like he owns her and… not fucking important. God, what am I doing?

I groan to myself before closing my eyes and searching my mind for the name of the magazine. M…? No. Something about glitter. No… Silver and… Got it.

A second later I have the cover image in front of me and a link directing me to the rest of the article. My finger hovers over the link. This is it. The moment.

Cursing myself for being so goddamn crazy over this, I laugh and press on the screen, ready for whatever I see.

But when the first picture loads, my eyes widen as my jaw comically drops. Scrap that. I’m not at all ready because… Jesus fucking Christ.