Something seems to pass between them, and I wonder what Cooper said that got him in trouble, because sure as I know my son, that’s what Bruce is alluding to. Saying kind things and putting good into the world is one of the things I try so hard to instill in Cooper, but it’s hard to put a filter on an unfiltered kid who lives big and bold with little regard for civilized society.
“Thanks.” I don’t know what else to say. So many things dance on the tip of my tongue, but none of them want to take that risky leap into the air between us. So I stick with stating the obvious. “Still here in Great Falls? I didn’t know that.”
His face turns to stone before my very eyes and the temperature drops ten degrees. With the August heat blasting down on us, it should be a welcome reprieve but instead feels painfully frosty.
“Yep, still here.”
He turns to the boys, clearly dismissing me, which stings. Even Michelle raises a brow in question at the cold shoulder. “Okay, boys, practice on Tuesday. Let’s go for the team yell we worked on.”
All the boys crowd together, one hand to the middle in a messy stack of sweat, dirt, peach juice, and germs. “On three . . . one, two, three . . .”
“GO WILDCATS!” they scream as one.
Well, mostly together, at least.
They start to disperse, practice over. A few of the moms tell me goodbye, probing eyes still flicking between me and Bruce like they don’t want to leave too soon and miss anything. I help their cause and gather Cooper up, along with my chair that never did go back in the bag, but I can do that at home.
“Let’s go, honey.”
Not looking over my shoulder feels like a major accomplishment, but getting in my car and pulling out of the parking lot feels like a reminder that I lost something. Something I didn’t even know I still wanted.
Cooper is doing a play-by-play of practice for me from his point of view, his small voice filling the car as I mutter the occasional ‘uh-huh’ and ‘hmm’, and my mind wanders.
To the past.
To the last time I saw Bruce.
To the last time I loved him.
Chapter 4
Bruce
Our panting breaths fog up the already steamy windows of my old truck. There’s even a handprint smashing what’s left of the felt cushion of my headliner where Allyson used it as leverage to impale herself harder, deeper on my cock as she cried out my name, making me feel like a fucking god.
It’s not the first time we’ve fucked or made love. We’ve done both dozens of times, at every available opportunity we can find. But this will be the last time for a while, and I want to enjoy the afterglow of the moment—her still straddling my lap, my softening cock still inside her warm, slippery pussy, and the floral perfume of her filling my nose where I have it buried against her neck in the mess my hands have made of her hair. I wrap my arms around her a little tighter, squeezing her to me and wishing we could stay like this a little longer. She’s under my skin, on my skin, in my very veins.
God, I love this girl. And not in some high-school kid puppy-love way, though we’re in that sweet spot between our birthdays that put us both at eighteen. I love her with everything I am.
Honestly, that isn’t much, but she’s never seemed to care that I’m just a dumb jock with plans of either playing ball or farming. That’s the only two options for a guy like me, but not my Allyson. She’s fucking brilliant and can do anything she puts her mind to. I’m proud of her already, and she hasn’t even left for college yet to start her pre-law studies.
“You leaving in the morning?” I murmur against the soft skin of her neck between kisses. I’m sorely tempted to mark her, leave a big, glaring hickey on her milky skin to fend off any assholes at her new school, but I hold back . . . barely. Her dad would kick my ass, or well, he’d try and I’d be obligated to let him get a good shot in because I mostly deserve it for defiling his daughter. But I really don’t have time for that because football practice starts this week. Two-a-days for all of August in preparation for my senior year of high school, starting on the varsity team.
It’ll be the distraction I need because Allyson will be far away at State for her freshman year. Not there to cheer for me on Friday nights. But I know she’ll be cheering from her dorm. We’ve already made plans for Friday night calls so I can give her the play-by-play of the game, not that she cares about football or even understands it, but she cares about me. It’s the same reason I watch court shows with her and listen to her talk about legal this and legal that when I don’t understand even a quarter of what she’s saying.