Page 130 of Falling Back to You

“Single dad and the nanny. Second-chance romance,” she gushed. “Everyone would eat it up! And she’s so wholesome, Cal. She’s perfect for your image.”

I didn’t care about my image all that much, but the team had a family-friendly policy, and this new publicity was veering dangerously close to jumping off that cliff.

“Son?” Pops’s quiet voice brought me back to the nail gun and stepladder.

Fine, twist my arm. My dad was the smartest man I knew, so the odds of him being able to help with this was pretty high.

I grunted and shot a few nails into place. “Those money-grabbing piranhas with no morals are messing up my life again.” I meant the words as a joke, but they fell flat.

Pops clapped my shoulder, seeing right through me. “You’re allowed to be angry, son. You don’t need to try and laugh it away.”

Except laughing was easier sometimes. When things got heavy, humour was good medicine, right? But maybe honesty was better than fake laughter.

I’d particularly gotten out of Serenity Springs to avoid the town gossip for a first date, but apparently, Caldwell was fair game. It had started off simple enough, a few fans wanting autographs. And because there were a bunch of kids, I’d agreed. Kids were my Achilles’ heel when it came to the fans. Then the reporters arrived. Most minor-league players didn’t have to worry about the paparazzi mob, but thanks to my less-than-stellar history and the publicity with Izzy’s death, I was not one of those players. The minute someone noticed I had a date, the hordes descended. Everyone wanted the scoop. Everyone had questions.

I just wanted to enjoy the night with Noelle and maybe kiss her good night without landing on the front page of the gossip rags.

“What are you going to do about it?” Pops asked casually.

“I’m not using her as a publicity prop,” I said through gritted teeth.

“Then don’t. No one’s forcing you to.” He handed me the next board. “But maybe talk to her about it, too, hmm?”

I caught the undercurrent. I’d gotten swept away in my problems before and didn’t listen to her side. Didn’t hear what she needed. I wasn’t making that mistake again.

“Son, you’re more than your past. It doesn’t define you anymore,” Pops said steadily. “Don’t pick up the burden of guilt that Christ’s cross has already covered.”

“Thanks, Pops,” I said thickly. When it came to dads, I had lucked out. Perfect, Ian Satterfield was not. But he cared. He listened. He was present. Always had been.

The kitchen door swung open, and Noelle appeared, breathless and flushed.

“Elle?” I asked, concerned, and quickly descended the ladder.

Pops nudged me towards her. “I’ll finish up.”

“I . . .” Noelle trailed off.

Slinging an arm around her, I tugged her outside to the back porch and settled us down on the porch swing.

“What’s going on?” I asked, rubbing my thumb in circles over her shoulder.

She tucked her legs under her, tipping her closer against my chest, and a wave of coconut rolled over me. “I saw Quinn tonight.”

My stomach tightened. “I’m guessing it didn’t go so well?”

She shook her head and brokenly whispered what had happened. “I just . . .” She blew out a breath and tilted her chin so she was looking up at me. “I needed to see you. And I wanted a hug.”

I slid both arms around her more securely. “I’m glad you came,” I said roughly. I wanted to be the person she ran to. The person to hold on to and promise that even if everything wasn’t okay, we could face it together.

I kissed the top of her head, and she buried her face against my chest, gripping my shirt in her fists.

“I know Quinn is entitled to her feelings, and I don’t blame her. But . . . It still hurts.” Noelle nestled closer. “I’m trying to be okay with that. Trying to let go of needing to fix things beyond my control.”

“I know it’s hard, and I’m sorry.”

The swing creaked softly as we continued to swing in silence—Noelle holding on to me tightly, me rubbing gentle circles over her back while my chin rested on her curls. I couldn’t fix the pain for her, no matter how much I wanted to.

I couldn’t promise Quinn would forgive her because she might not. I couldn’t offer empty platitudes. But I could sit with her in the heartache, give her a soft place to land so she knew she wasn’t alone.