Page 14

“Are you ready?” I ask softly.

The Lyft driver is waiting outside, but he can wait a little longer. My parents are waiting outside for us. They can wait a little longer, too.

Harper glances around the kitchen, and then she looks over at me and nods. “I’m ready.”

“You’re a brave little girl, do you know that?” I ask.

She lifts a shoulder. “Not so little, but yeah, I know.”

I grunt out a dry laugh. “And modest, too. Look, kid. I know this is tough, but I’ve got you.”

She looks up at me, and tears sparkle in her eyes. She reaches over to grab my big hand in her tiny one. “I know.”

I look down at her in wonder for a minute. “How do you know?”

“Yesterday and the day before were bad. Really bad. This whole week is. But every time I looked at you, I felt safe.”

I feel my own eyes start to sparkle, and what the fuck? This kid is changing me in ways I didn’t know existed.

“I don’t want to leave,” she whispers, looking around again. “But I know this is what Mom wanted, so I’m being brave for her.”

I squeeze her hand where it’s still in mine, and I find myself too choked up to say anything.

There will be hard days ahead. When I lost Coach Barrett, I remember the grief hitting me at the strangest times when I was least expecting it to.

It’ll be like that for her, too, only she has two people to mourn.

But I’ll do everything I can to make this transition as smooth as I can. I owe it to the little girl whose entire life I’ve missed because of a simple request her mother made to me a few months into her pregnancy.

She turns toward the door with a courage far beyond her ten years, and she marches toward it, her little hand still in mine. I drag her suitcase behind me, and I drop it near the trunk for the Lyft driver while Harper pauses on the porch to say goodbye to my parents—her grandparents. I swing back in for her second suitcase plus my duffel bag carrying the EpiPens, and I draw in a deep breath before I walk out the front door.

“Don’t worry, Caroline. I’ll take good care of her,” I whisper, and then I walk out the front door.

My father locks it up with the spare key given to him by Simon years ago in case of emergency. I suppose this qualifies as one.

My mother hugs Harper near the car waiting to take us to the airport, and my father stops me with a hand on my arm.

“You okay with all this?” he asks.

“I have to be.” I nod toward the girl. “For her.”

He squeezes my arm. “I’m proud of you, son. What you’re doing for her…it’s incredible. It’s selfless, and I have faith in you that whatever comes next, you’ll handle it.”

Somehow those words give me more pride than the championship game my senior year in college when I scored the winning touchdown.

My father is proud of me.

The little boy inside me who so desperately sought his approval is crying tears of joy, but the man on the exterior remains stoic.

“Thank you,” I say, nodding my head just once. It feels like a moment when someone close to his father might use a term of endearment like Dad or Pops , but we’ve never been that way. I nearly call him Richard, but I stop myself and just leave it at that.

“Your mother and I are just a phone call away if there’s anything we can do to help, and we would like to schedule a time to come visit with you and her soon.”

“We’d both like that. After all, I’m sure my little girl would like to spend time with her grandparents,” I say. I glance up at him, suddenly feeling vulnerable. Honesty, Trav. Go for honesty. “And I’d like that, too.”

I can’t imagine Travis of seventy-two hours ago even thinking a statement such as that let alone speaking those words aloud.

My father reaches over to give me a hug.

I haven’t hugged my father since I was…

Damn.

Maybe eight or nine?

He holds me tightly for a beat, and I feel that heat threatening behind my eyes again…and it’s only made worse when his next words come.

“I’m sorry we failed you, but despite our missteps, you have turned out to be quite a man.” He pulls back, and he looks me in the eye when he adds, “I’ve watched every game you’ve ever played in, son. You are incredible, and I want you to know that.”

My brows dip together. “You…you have?”

He nods. “I wouldn’t miss it. Your mother, too. We both wanted to attend your games, but it seemed as though you flourished without us.”

“Oh, I…” I have no idea what to say.

“We didn’t think you wanted us there, but no matter what you think of us, we did what we thought was best for you. We love you, Travis. Don’t you ever forget that.” He squeezes my arm again, and he looks emotional, too.

He just lost his best friends, and I didn’t see his face crack once during the funeral or the events that came after.

But this conversation is moving him in an emotional way I’ve never seen from him before.

Maybe it just took becoming a parent myself to even have the desire to understand why my parents did what they did when they did it. I still don’t quite get it, but it does feel like we’ve reached some sort of breakthrough—that maybe we can find a way back into each other’s lives.

I’m not sure whether I’m ready to open that door, but I’m also not sure I’m ready to take this little girl home with me and start a new life. Sometimes we don’t have a choice and we need to just go with whatever our gut tells us to do. If there’s anything I’ve learned from playing football, it’s that I need to make smart decisions quickly.

“Thank you,” I say softly, and I squeeze his bicep for a beat with a long look before I walk down the sidewalk toward Harper.

I give my mother a hug, and we don’t get a chance to have the same sort of meaningful conversation I just had with my father. Instead, we say goodbye, and Harper and I get into the back of the car and head toward the airport.

We treat it like an adventure. I don’t know exactly how to be a dad just yet, but I’ll learn.

And our first obstacle faces us when we get to the airport.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” she says.

“Oh, uh…” I glance around for some restrooms, and I spot a sign not too far away. We start walking toward it. But how does this work? Is ten old enough for her to go by herself? I can’t take a ten-year-old girl into the men’s room…right? “Can you, uh…can you handle it if I wait right outside the door?”

She nods. “I’m ten, not three, buddy,” she says with an eyeroll, and I can’t help a laugh at that—both the sassy eyeroll and the word she finally decided on as her nickname for me since we’re not on dad level just yet.

“Okay, then, little lady. I will wait right here,” I say, planting myself directly across from the door while I wait.

She heads in, and I realize my mistake a second after she disappears into the bathroom.

“Aren’t you Travis Woods?” a female voice to my right asks, and I glance over at her.

She’s exactly my type. Long blonde hair, legs for days, tits pushed up to that perfect angle that would allow me to bury my face there and stay awhile.

“I am,” I say.

She takes another step toward me so her tits brush my arm. “I’m such a big fan.”

Jesus.

If this was three days ago, I’d take her into the family bathroom and have my way with her. Okay, I never said my romance skills couldn’t use some work, but the ladies typically aren’t complaining when I’ve got their legs spread open and I’m shoving my cock into them.

“Thank you,” I say instead, shaking off the image of what her tits would look like bouncing in front of my face while I fuck her. Would they bounce like real tits? Or would they bounce like fake ones? I’m not picky. Tits are tits, and I’m happy to indulge in all shapes and sizes.

Or, I was happy to. I’m not so sure what that part of my life is going to look like going forward.

Yep…life isn’t about to change. It already has.

“Where are you headed?” she asks, her voice all sultry as she definitely gives off the vibe that she wants me. My reputation may precede me here.

“Back home,” I say nonchalantly, trying to feign disinterest despite the man below deck straining against my jeans to get a better look.

Down, boy.

“Is Vegas home? That’s where I’m headed, too. I do a lot of business there if you’d ever like to…get together. You know what I mean?” she practically purrs, her tits pressing harder onto my arm. They’re all real. For sure.

Yeah, I would like to get together, but I’m just not sure that’s possible.

A few days ago, this whole exchange would’ve made for an…eventful flight home.

She traces a fingernail along my jawline, her breath warm on my cheek. Man, she’s not subtle, I’ll give her that.

“Ready, Daddy?” a little voice down to my right side asks. She links her arms around my right arm, and my heart stops beating for a second.

Oh God.

The woman backs off my arm. “Oh, sorry,” she says, and she has the grace to look a little embarrassed. “Have a good flight.”

“You too,” I say to her as she turns to walk away. I glance down at Harper. “Daddy?” I ask with a quirked brow.

She giggles. “You looked miserable with that lady, so I wanted to scare her away.”

I laugh, and I muss up her long, dark hair that matches the color of my own much shorter hair. She swats my hand away with another little giggle, and somehow it feels like a breakthrough.

This whole thing could’ve gone a lot of different ways, and I’m starting to learn just how fucking incredible my kid is.