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“I’m not sure what makes you think I’m going for you ,” I grit out between clenched teeth, tossing up my fingers to make air quotes around the last three words.

She shrugs and holds her hands up as if to indicate her school. “You’re here, aren’t you? And you just said I crushed you, so logic leads me to the conclusion that you somehow found me.”

“Are you kidding me?” I practically yell at her. She has no fucking clue what I’ve been through the last few days—what Harper has been through—and for her to stand here making assumptions that she’s somehow involved in why I’m here pisses me off to no end. “What a fucking ego on you.”

“I assume your ego far supersedes mine, Mr. Woods.”

“You know what assuming does,” I mutter, using my father’s famous words.

“Yeah, I do. It makes you look like an ass.”

I still don’t get it, but I skip past that part. “Language, Ms. Hartley. And for the record, if I was interested before, I’m sure as fuck not now.”

With that parting shot, I turn and walk back toward the front building to leave. I don’t bother looking back to see if she’s pining away at my backside.

My words are a total lie, and we both know it. Of course I’m interested, and the way my dick is begging for release right now confirms that.

But it doesn’t matter. Despite her accusation that I only go after women in relationships, it’s not true. After I found out Caroline was pregnant, I went through a lot of different emotions.

Fear. Heartbreak. Loneliness. Sadness.

I wasn’t relieved when she said she didn’t want me to be a part of that kid’s life, but I was young. I figured I had to do what she told me to do, that I didn’t have a choice in the matter.

I felt very used, like she only came onto me as an experiment to see if she could get what she wanted, and it worked. She tossed me away like my parents did, and the thought still hurts.

At the time, I thought about that little girl growing inside my mother’s best friend’s stomach, and I wondered if I’d ever get to be a part of her life.

I was told I wasn’t allowed to be, and that hurt.

It burned.

It taught me a lot of valuable lessons, but the biggest one was that women who were committed to someone else were off-limits. They’d only hurt me in the end.

It’s not like I wanted anything more with Caroline. It was never even on the table. But to be acknowledged, or even to just gain a little insight into the girl’s life…I guess it would have been nice.

Every once in a while, I’d look through Caroline’s social media so I could see the little girl who was never meant to be mine, but pictures were few and far between when she was a baby and became even fewer as she grew. Eventually Caroline deactivated her social media, and I always wondered why.

I sign out of the front office, and the lady at the desk hands me a folder. She calls it the new parent orientation or some shit, but I’m not really listening.

I run to my new Mercedes and slam my door shut. I draw in a deep breath as I sit in the driver’s seat. Why does it feel like I just sprinted across the small elementary school campus?

Something’s got my heart rate up, and I don’t think it’s the walk from the courtyard back to my SUV.

I fire up the car and connect to Bluetooth, and I wonder what song will start up from my random playlist. It’s composed of everything from country music to rap to heavy metal to oldies. I’m not picky about music, instead choosing to listen to whatever makes me feel something.

“No Bystanders” by Travis Scott comes blaring through my speakers. I turn it up a little louder. It’s one of those bangers that gets my feet moving and my mind focused before a game.

And then I can’t help myself.

Speaking of stalking someone’s social media, I pull up Instagram and navigate to the search, and then I turn down the volume on my music so I can voice “Victoria Hartley.”

I scroll through the results for a few seconds until I spot a picture that looks like her. I click on it, and sure enough, that’s the woman I just argued with in the middle of an elementary school.

That’s the woman who’s been in the back of my mind since I met her last Thursday despite the upheaval of the last few days.

I scroll through her photos and stop on one of her with the dude I assume is her boyfriend.

He looks like a douchebag. He’s got shit-colored eyes and stupid hair, and he looks like he’s nowhere good enough for the woman smiling beside him.

I study their photo.

They’re both looking at the camera and have smiles on their faces, but there’s something slightly…off…about the smile on Victoria’s face. I can’t put my finger on what it is, but when I picture her looking at me with her face all scrunched up in anger, it seems like there’s way more emotion there than in this photo of her smile.

Maybe it’s not quite reaching her eyes.

Maybe she’s not happy with him.

Maybe it doesn’t matter since she hates me and you know what? I sort of hate her, too.

She didn’t have to be so mean. She didn’t have to claw at my failures or harp on things she doesn’t know squat about.

But she did.

I’m just glad she’s not Harper’s teacher. She’s just some woman who works at the school who showed us to the classroom. Thank God I won’t have to deal with her again.

I dial Tristan then pull out of my parking space.

“Are you alone?” he answers.

“Yeah.”

“Whazzahhh motha-fuckaaaa?” he says.

I laugh as I turn out of the parking lot, traffic much lighter now that morning drop-off is over. “You up for a workout?”

“We’re heading back to Fallon Ridge this weekend, but I can squeeze in something this morning.”

Oh. He’s heading out of town, and right now he feels sort of like my only lifeline. He’s new to the fathering business—because his wife just had a baby, not because a ten-year-old kid came into his life—but on some level that makes me feel like he gets me.

But he has his own life to live.

I’ll have to find someone else to cling to, I guess.

“I just dropped Harper off at school,” I admit, which is the real reason for the call. It’s the first time I’ve been without her since…well, since I met her.

The thought leaves me feeling a little empty.

“Oh wow. How’d that go?”

“Fine,” I say. And truthfully, it was fine for her. It’s a slightly different story for myself, but we can get into all that when he’s over for workouts. “She’s got Bella so I feel like she’ll be okay knowing she already has a friend.”

“How are you doing with everything?” he prods.

“Let’s talk when you come over. What time?”

“Give me a half hour or so.”

“Deal. See you then.”

He rings my bell about fifteen minutes after I arrive home, and I had just enough time to change into my workout gear.

He’s not alone. He brought Josh Nolan, another wide receiver—another father— from the Aces with him.

“Hey, man,” Josh says to me. He’s a little older than the rest of us at thirty-two, and rumors are starting to pop up about a potential retirement. He has admitted at our wide receiver meetings that he’s not sure how many years he has left in him now that he and his wife have a kid. “Hope you don’t mind me crashing your workout.”

“Not at all,” I say, opening the door wider to allow them in.

“I stopped by Tristan’s place on my way to drop off Warner because I heard some news,” he says.

“What news?” I ask.

“You’ve heard the rumors about Sean Taylor interviewing, right?” he asks, naming our offensive coordinator.

Both Tristan and I turn to look at him.

Josh pauses for dramatic effect, and then he tells us, “He accepted a head coaching position with the Jets this morning.”

“So who are we getting?” I ask.

“That’s all I know, man. And I only know because I was at Jack’s place this morning and he told me. It’s not public yet, so don’t tell anyone.” Josh shrugs. “All I've heard at this point are rumors but I imagine we will get someone in there pretty quickly. We need our new playbook so we can start studying.”

Right. A new playbook.

It took me the last two seasons to master the old one and now I'll be starting all over again.

“As if there hasn't been enough change,” I mutter.

Both guys turn toward me. “You doing okay, man?” Tristan asks.

I shake my head and turn around as I walk into my house, my two friends following behind me.

“Just feels like I can't catch a fucking break.” I pause in my kitchen and lean my backside against my counter. “Like football was my one constant and now all that is going to change too.”

“It's not changing completely ,” Josh points out. “We saw how well the single back formation worked last season for us. That means more playing time this season, and this is our chance. The things that passed us by last season...we got so close and I feel like with the right leadership in place, we've got a real shot this year.”

I shrug. “Yeah, unless the new OC comes in and shakes everything up and creates a brand new playbook...”

“I imagine he'll keep a lot the same and throw some new ideas into the mix. What we had was working, so it’s a matter of adding a new perspective and some new plays. It’s not a bad thing.”

I shrug, but the truth of the matter is I've never been much for studying. I've never been one to pour over the playbook memorizing every single play. And we have a lot of wide receiver plays in that playbook. I have a hard enough time memorizing the names for every single one, let alone executing them on the field.

Coach Barrett left me with study skills to help me remember everything, but it takes time. I learn best by doing, and the only amount of time we're going to have to do is training camp.

Training camp.

That time of year when I am gone for an entire month—something that didn't matter much when it was just me, but I have no idea what that means now that it’s not just me anymore.

How is it going to work?

I can’t just leave her behind for an entire month.

I’m only out of town two weeks during camp, but the two weeks that follow are stressful and hardcore at home with early mornings and late nights while I battle against my best friends to prove to the coaching staff that I’m the one who belongs on that field at the start of every game.

I only had three starts last season. I want all seventeen this year plus playoffs, but I can’t exactly say that to Josh and Tristan, who both started every game last season.

“You want to head upstairs to work out?” I ask.

They both nod, and we move that direction.

“I asked you how you’re doing with everything when you called to invite me to work out and you said we’d talk when I got here. So…talk,” Tristan says as he gets started on my treadmill.

Josh moves toward my power rack, and I grab a couple dumbbells off the rack.

I blow out a breath as I debate how much I want to get into, and then I decide— fuck it— and get into the whole deal. It’s weighing on me, so I need to let it out. More sage advice from Coach Barrett.

“I was out with Cory and Austin on Thursday night, just at the Gridiron, and this gorgeous girl came in for takeout. I hit on her and she blew me off and even though it’s been a hell of a week, her words—her tits— have stuck in my mind.”

“What did she say to you?” Tristan asks.

“She took a dig at my reputation, something about how I try to get between the legs of every woman. And then she said she’s a Cowboys fan.” I roll my eyes at the memory.

Josh snorts at that, but my boy Tristan has my back.

“It’s not like it’s the first time someone has taken that shot at you,” he says. “So why are you still thinking about it?”

“I don’t know. I can’t seem to get her out of my head, but she said she has a boyfriend. And get this…she works at Harper’s new school. She happened to be in the office this morning, and the receptionist asked her to show us to Harper’s teacher’s classroom.”

“Small fuckin’ world,” Tristan murmurs. “Is she her teacher?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know what she does. She didn’t seem to have a class to get to. Maybe she’s like an office helper or something.”

“Did you get a name?” Josh asks.

I nod. “Victoria Hartley.”

“I assume you’ve already checked her socials to confirm the boyfriend?” Tristan asks, and I can’t help a chuckle that he knows me as well as he does.

“You bet your ass I did, and the boyfriend…” I trail off and shake my head. “He looked like a spunknugget.”

“A what now?” Josh asks.

“You know, a chucklefuck. A shitweasel.”

The crease between his brows deepen.

“A douchenozzle. A twatwaffle.”

“Right,” he says. “So you didn’t care for the man?”

I shake my head. “She could do better.”

“Like you?” Tristan asks.

“Fuck no. Not after the way she talked to me today.”

Tristan glances over at me. “How’d she talk to you today?”

“She said my thing was going for women in relationships when that’s absolutely not true, for one thing. And then she had the balls to tell me I wanted her, which I don’t,” I say.

Josh snorts again, and I set down my weights.

“What?” I snap, my tone definitely annoyed.

“You absolutely want her, you lunatic,” he says.

I shoot him a glare.

“Dude, if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be sitting here talking about her to us.”

I look over to Tristan for some assistance, but he shrugs. “Dude’s got a point.”

“Just because I think she’s hot doesn’t mean I want her,” I protest.

“Isn’t that the definition of wanting someone?” Josh wonders aloud, but neither Tristan or I acknowledge that comment.

“You’re Travis Woods,” Tristan says. “Of course you want her if you think she’s hot.”

“But she was such a bitch to me,” I protest.

“All the more reason to want her,” Tristan says. He picks up the speed on the treadmill but continues talking even though he’s starting to pant now. “She’s a challenge. She’s got a boyfriend, challenge one. She doesn’t appear to want you when most other women fall to their knees for you, challenge two.” He shrugs. “But if she’s in a relationship…my best advice is to stay away.”

“I don’t have time for this shit. I’ll just…I don’t know. Put her out of my head. What do you two know about peanut allergies?” I shift the subject because I don’t want to give that woman another ounce of my energy.

It turns out they don’t know shit about peanut allergies, and so I add it to my mental learn more about this list as I decide to focus on my little girl and not the woman whose legs keep popping uninvited into my brain.

I’ll give her something to pop her legs up over…