Don't Promise (Don't 3)

“Did I do something wrong?” Hunter asked.

“Nah. I think you did something very right.” I sat in the empty space next to him. The bed creaked under my weight.

“Thanks for inviting me to the game today.”

“Sure.” The game ball was next to him. He hadn’t let it out of his sight. It sat next to him at dinner. I remembered doing the exact same thing. This kid and I had so much in common.

I wanted to tell him about my conversation with Savannah. I wanted him to know I was trying my damndest to get him. To give him a family. And maybe that included Julie too.

“You’re going to win the next one too, right?”

“No one wants the Sharks to win more than I do.”

“But you’re supposed to play on Christmas Day aren’t you?”

I scratched the back of my head. Where was the kid going with this? I felt like he was a tiny int

errogator holding a flashlight in my eyes. He was good at it, too.

“That’s the plan,” I answered.

“Oh.” He took handfuls of the comforter and balled them up in his small hands.

“You worried about something, Hunter?” I asked.

“No.”

“Hmm. You sure?”

“I just want to sleep.”

I reached over to turn off the light. “If you need anything, we’re here.”

He turned on his side. I touched the top of his hair lightly before closing the door behind me.

Julie sat on the couch, clutching a glass of red wine. She stared into the small flames crackling in the fireplace. The loft was a big man cave, but with this beautiful woman on my couch, the fire, and the kid tucked in, I felt like I was living in a damn white-picket fence movie. It felt like a home.

“He’ll be out in five minutes.” I grabbed a goblet and poured a full glass. “That is one tired kid.”

“He loved watching you play. The whole thing.” Her feet were tucked under her. “He was mesmerized by everything.”

“What about you? Was that your first Sharks game?”

She nodded. “It was sort of amazing watching you out there.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know about your little fan club.” She smirked slyly.

The wine tasted sweet. Not really my thing. “You saw them?”

“Who could miss those girls? Is it always like that?”

I thought I heard her voice change. She was jealous. “It’s the AFA. Women are part of it.”

“I see.”

I placed my glass on the table in front of me. It was there on my lips again—I wanted to tell her about Savannah’s assignment. I wanted her to know I took all of this seriously. Hell, I was trying to become a father. Something I never thought I wanted. And I sure as hell didn’t think I’d start with an eight-year-old.