Page 20 of Beg Me

“I really like it here,” Gus says, grinning at me.

Hell, maybe I should take his advice. He has women eating out of the palm of his hand wherever we go.

“You behave.” I lift a brow. “And remember your manners.”

“We’re gonna walk around and will probably wind up at the cabin,” Gray tells Cathy. “If you call when you’re finished, we can come get him.”

“I don’t know why you’re still here,” Cathy says, pulling out plates from the fridge.

Gray shakes his head. “Let’s go.”

I give my son a pointed look before following my friend outside.

A breeze kicks up as soon as we’re on the gravel and the flag hanging off the porch whips in the wind. We walk shoulder to shoulder down the lane in silence.

“Are you going to explain Pigasso?” I ask, curious.

“Hartley’s wife, Mira, bought it at an auction. This was before they were back together. It was an impulse purchase, and she had nowhere to take it, so she sent it here and then begged for Hart’s forgiveness rather than permission.”

Mira. I kick a rock, smiling. If she’s anything like her sister, that makes total sense.

It’s wild to me how much I’ve learned about Markie without really even trying—too hard, anyway. I’ve been in Sugar Creek for a week and am starting to understand the lore around small towns. Growing up in a metropolitan area and then living in different cities throughout my adult life, I’ve never understood how your neighbors could possibly know your whole business.

I’m starting to get it. You never truly have any privacy. There’s no escape, no way to become invisible.

Markie is everywhere—the farmers’ market, the park. We waved at each other as she left the grocery store yesterday and I pulled in. I spotted her at the gas station and overheard a table of old men talking about her at Piper’s Pizza today at lunch. I think they were making bets on the pickleball tournament. And now she’s popping up in a conversation with my teammate.

I’ve known the woman for a week, and unintentionally, I’m collecting pieces of her life.

Not that I mind.

“How’s retirement treating you?” I ask as we reach the top of the hill. “You look pretty relaxed.”

Gray takes a long, deep breath and blows it out steadily. “It’s fucking great, to be honest.”

“I bet it is.”

“I knew I needed to walk away,” he says. “It was time. But this little voice in the back of my head kept asking, what if I’m making a mistake?”

“That’s normal, I’d think.”

“Probably. But every morning I wake up here with Astrid beside me and … I’m free, I guess. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have it all figured out. I’m gonna help Hartley around here and do some ranch shit, but I’ll have to figure out something else to occupy my time.”

I chuckle, stretching my arms over my head. I’m not even retired, but I understand what he means. This ranch and the clean air and nature surrounding us make me feel free, too.

“But, yeah, this is it,” Gray says. “This is the life. I’ve never been surer of anything.”

My chest aches as his words sink into my bones. I know what I’m walking away from after next season, but I just haven’t figured out what I’m walking toward.

I’ve toyed with the idea of retiring for the past three years, keeping my eye on the upcoming season when my contract expires. Rugby has taken a hell of a toll on my body, and I’ve absorbed enough damage to be concerned. My mom has practically begged me to stop playing. And if I’m being honest, I’ve accomplished what I set out to accomplish in the beginning.

I had fun, made a shit ton of money, and won a few championships.

But that was all before I had Gus. Back when retiring felt like a ticket to a beach somewhere and a life spent blowing the money I’ve made over my career—probably in a semi-hedonistic fashion.

That’s not what it looks like anymore.

The choices I make matter. Where I live is a significant decision. I don’t want to live in Nevada. I hate the desert. But Gus lives there with his mom, and they’re happy, so the most logical solution is to move closer to them whether I want to or not. Because as much as I hate geckos and cacti, I want to be an everyday dad. I want to experience Friday football games at the high school and lazy Saturday mornings. Sunday dinners. Throwing a ball around in the yard. Taco Tuesdays. I want to be there for his first date, the first time he falls in love, and the first time his heart gets broken.