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I searched for a photo of a cake and sent the emoji.
Noah: There’s always dessert (ice cream emoji)
Chris: I really want to be with you.
I nearly caved, but tonight wasn’t right.
Noah: I know. I’m sorry.
Chris: Night xxx
Noah: XX Night
I was as giddy and stupid as a kid on their first date. He liked me!
And with a smile on my face, I went to bed and realized that, somehow, the boys’ night out at the ranch, then drinks with Chris and his friends, were the best nights out I’d had in years.
I’d even forgotten to worry about Fox.
And the specter of Briggs never once showed until that beautiful head-spinning kiss, and while I resent that my ex was in my head at any point, I could work through that.
Yeah.
Two good nights.
And fuck… Chris’s kisses were something else.
ChapterSixteen
Noah
For Fox and me,dinner time had become our time—moments together where the world outside our cozy kitchen walls ceased to exist, and where, sometimes, the teenager part of Fox subsided, and he was my son again. Tonight, was lasagna, and he ate half of the lasagna, but then, he fidgeted with his fork, a sure sign he had something on his mind, and given how quiet he’d been since coming back from school, I waited for the big reveal.
“So, Dad,” he began, his voice hesitant, “I did something.”
“What?”
“I uhm…” He was suddenly wide-eyed, and all kinds of horrors passed through my mind. What had he done? Got into a fight? Worse? “I put my name down for tryouts for the baseball team at school. Do you think I did the right thing?”
I paused, my fork mid-air. Baseball. That single word hung heavy between us.Be positive, encourage him.
“That’s great, Fox!” I said, masking my initial worries and shock with enthusiasm.
Fox nodded, pushing the lasagna around on his plate. “Chris said… I mean, Mr. Sheridan said I was good enough, so I thought I’d try. I love baseball. Whatever Papa did…” He took a deep breath, his next words coming out in a rush. “Only, no one at school knows about who Papa is.”
Briggs Lewiston. A name that had once brought crowds to their feet was now whispered in the shadows of scandal and disgrace. People accused the famous baseball player, now a pariah in the sports world, of so many things that I had lost count.
“I never wanted anyone here to know about him,” Fox continued, a determined glint in his eyes. “After all the stuff he did, the mess he made… I just want to play because I love the game, not because ofhim. But Mr. Sheridan says I could do tryouts, and he doesn’t even know who I am. Right? Or did you tell him? Is it on my records? Dad?”
“No, Fox. No.” I was lying—what if it was on his transcripts? Was he being asked to try out on the strength of who his dad was? Would Chris do that?
He wouldn’t.
I reached across the table, placing my hand over his. “Okay?”
“What if people find out? What if they talk? And I don’t mean the team. I mean, what if Clarke and Ainsley hate me for keeping secrets?” The vulnerability in his voice tugged at my heart. All the piss and vinegar that was teenage-Fox disappeared at moments like this.
“You still haven’t told them?”?” I squeezed his hand gently. “Maybe it’s time, Fox?”
