The Mrs. Degree (Accidentally in Love 2)

“That’s my name too!” The squeaky little voice echoes in my mind.

Skipper…is that what she called her?

Weird.

They called me Skip even in college, and the media took a shine to it when I was drafted, giving me the nickname The Skip anytime I make it to the end zone. Why would she name her daughter Skipper?

After an ex-boyfriend? Makes zero sense.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat.

Dark braids.

Dark eyes.

“Dude, the kid looked just like you,” Robb Macenroy had said when he passed by me on the tarmac as we made our way to the plane. “Like put a wig on you, man.”

I can’t nap.

My brain won’t shut off as my head flops on the seat uncomfortably.

Get out of your own head, man—you’re imagining things. Shut the brain off, Jack. Shut the brain off.

My eyes squeeze shut, but all I see is that kid, Harper. I remember Penelope’s best friend. They were childhood friends who lived in the dorms together and never fought or argued. Inseparable except for when I came around, and even then, Penelope often included Harper. They joined a sorority together, did intramurals together, and took care of one another like sisters.

Skipper.

What a cute kid.

Looked about…shit, I don’t know how old she looked. I know nothing about children.

The only kids I come in contact with are my teammates’ kids—and the one time I dated the single mother with five-year-old twins, but Harper looked a bit older than that?

Hair in braids, she had giant eyes and teeth a little too big for her mouth, and cotton candy stains in the corner of her mouth from the candy in the green room. Amusing kid.

She seemed smart.

Super outgoing and chatty, she definitely was in no mood to leave the action.

Penelope had Skipper out the door shortly after I’d arrived to say hello, but I certainly wasn’t expecting her to have a child along. I assumed she’d bring a friend. Even a man. And the only reason I’d popped into the room was to see her. I normally have no reason to go into the family room, but I’d had a member of security go fetch her after confirming she’d used the tickets.

When the flight lands at the airport, I head to my vehicle the same way I do after every game and toss all my crap into the back of my SUV. I grab Kevin, my Springer Spaniel, and head home for a long night of resting with my feet up on the coffee table and binge-watching trash dating shows. I can’t believe these people actually date while they’re in a pod, then get engaged after ten days—insanity!

I could never do it, although it’s probably a good way to make sure someone is dating you for the right reason and not simply because you’re a professional athlete. My face is on billboards and on television, so it’s pretty damn difficult to meet the right woman these days.

I’m not going to say I was hoping to have a romantic connection with Penelope after not having seen her for seven years, but in a way, I was hoping to have a romantic connection with Penelope. I told her that I’d wanted to stop dreaming about her so I could play, which was true! But the fact is, I’m sure a part of my subconscious was wishing we still had a spark.

I scratch Kevin behind the ears, and he lets out a loud, content sigh.

“Dude, the kid looked just like you.”

Did she? So what.

She looked like her mom. She and I have the same dark-brown hair, so it would stand to reason that her daughter would, too.

But that dimple in her cheek…

“Dude, the kid looked just like you.”

Kevin nudges me with his nose when I stop scratching, and I stare blankly at the television set, not registering what’s on the screen.

“…the kid looked just like you.”

It cannot be.

Penelope would not have kept something like that from me. She is honest and good and loyal.

Loyal? Bro, she left you.

But why? Did she ever actually say?

No.

She didn’t because we got interrupted by fans before she could explain, and then we never broached the subject again after they left. I thought I knew all the answers: she fell out of love with me. She met someone new and didn’t have the guts to tell me. She flunked out of school and was embarrassed. Her family needed her.

The list went on and on, and I never could quite settle on the actual truth.

On the night of the draft, I’d wondered if she was watching. It was televised, and though we hadn’t been together for a year, she had to have known I had entered and was favored to go early—to be chosen by Colorado as their first pick. It hadn’t been my dream team, but it ended up being the most lucrative contract that year. The most publicized and scrutinized.