Page 82 of It Should Have Been You

“Go, Momma,” she insists, almost jumping out of my arms.

I step onto the grass. “Looks like I’m missing all the fun.”

Logan throws me a challenging look, kicking the ball towards me. I catch it easily, and for a moment, all eyes are on me.

Should I disappoint them now and admit that’s as far as my soccer skills go?

I’m shit.

“Come at me, King,” I taunt, even as I move to block his next move. I’m surprised I get that far because Isabel is still laughing her little head off in my arms.

The grumble of his laugh is my only warning before he’s darting around me, taking advantage of my distraction. It’s a blur of movement, followed by the sounds of the ball hitting the makeshift goal.

“Cheater!” I accuse.

“Eater!” Isabel agrees, pout on full display.

He raises his hands before bowing. “That’s how it’s done.”

Asshole.

But I love a challenge.

“Get him, Mom,” Hannah encourages.

“I will, baby. Don’t worry.”

Eden is at my side, taking Isabel from my arms. “How about we let Mommy go crazy?” She leans in and whispers, “Get him, girl.”

“Hope you’re good at keeping your balls, King,” I warn, the edge of my mouth curving.

“I am, but something tells me you’re going to like kicking them.”

“Absolutely.”

Maybe it’s the atmosphere, or maybe it’s the idea of my girls watching, but the next thing I know, I’m stealing the ball, dribbling it past him, and landing it in the goal.

Logan’s mouth falls open with a groan. “Where did that come from?”

“Guess you’re not the only one with tricks up their sleeve.”

Hannah immediately demands a rematch.

I gasp for air. “Sure, just let me collect my lungs. I left them around here somewhere.”

While I’m catching my breath, everybody else takes their turn with the ball. Molly, surprisingly enough, shows some impressive soccer skills, blocking Archer’s attempt at a goal by diving across the grass. Even Cora kicks the ball a few times, but with each one she lets out a high-pitched laugh that has her out of the game for a minute each time.

“Again,” Hannah insists, nudging the ball towards me.

I wipe my brow, feeling sweat trail down my back. “You sure you don’t want to go one on one with Logan?” I ask, jerking my thumb in his direction. He’s sprawled out on the grass, hands behind his head, a lazy grin on his face.

She scrunches her nose. “You can do it, Mom.”

I can’t, but thanks, baby.

“You’re up,” Logan calls, cocking a challenging brow my way.

It’s still not too late to kick him in the most valuable balls he has.

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