Old Fashioned - Becker Brothers

Honestly, I didn’t matter to him — not really. He’d made me feel that way, made me feel precious and special and doted on, like I was his entire world. The moment I said yes to being his wife and that ring was slipped onto my finger, his true colors came out.

And I was already pregnant.

I shook off the ghosts threatening to join us in that park, turning my attention to where Paige was asking yet another little boy if he wanted to play catch with her. She held her football hopefully, her eyes wide.

“Oh, trust me, I plan on talking to Jordan. I’m sure this whole town does,” Randy replied. “Last night’s game was a mess, and if he has any hope of bringing another championship home, he’s got a lot of work to do.”

“Mmm,” I answered, exhausted by trying to be nice to the man who’d been my own personal hell for years. My eyes flicked to where a gaggle of women were watching me and Randy more carefully than they were their kids, and I knew without a doubt they were gossiping about the divorce, likely painting me as the villain this town wanted to believe I was.

How could anyone leave sweet Randy Kelly?

He’s such a great officer, and an amazing father.

She had nothing going for her. She was lucky to have him.

Why is she even staying in Stratford if she doesn’t want to be with him?

But they didn’t know me.

They knew nothing.

“Well, thanks for meeting up,” I said dismissively. “I’ll text you on Wednesday after practice to figure out where you want to meet.”

“I could just come by to pick Paige up,” he offered.

“No.”

He frowned. “I used to live there, too, you know. That’s my house, too.”

“Not anymore. Public places, Randy,” I said, a warning in my eyes. “Court’s orders.”

An evil smirk bloomed on his face, like he knew something I didn’t, but instead of revealing his secret, he just offered me a wave and headed toward his truck in the parking lot. That smirk of his was one I knew well, and it elicited a deep wave of chills that cooled me to the bones.

As soon as he pulled out of the lot, I took what felt like my first breath since he’d shown up. My body was always tense when he was near, senses on full alert — as if I might need to run or fight at any given moment. I rubbed the back of my neck with a sigh, turning to find Paige on the playground.

When I did find her, my body tensed right back up.

“Shit,” I said out loud, already jogging toward where she was standing at the opposite edge of the park. She still held tight to her football, but instead of pestering some kid her own age to play catch with her, she was talking animatedly to a very tall, very shirtless, very muddy Jordan Becker.

He wore an amused smile as he listened to my daughter, huge biceps crossed over his bare chest. His eyes flicked to me when I was ten yards away, and he smiled even wider before he turned his attention back to Paige.

“… You know what I mean? And, don’t even get me started on the cornerback. The twin. What’s his name?”

“Boone Parson.”

“Parson!” Paige said, snapping her fingers together just as I came to a stop beside her. She glanced up at me with a grin. “Hey, Mama.” Then, her attention was right back on Coach. “So, yeah, Parson. Does he butter his hands before the game? Because honestly, there were two times during the game last night where he could have had an interception if he’d just held onto the ball. Two times,” she repeated, holding up her fingers in a peace sign as if it wasn’t sinking in yet. “Can you imagine what that might have meant for the final score?”

“Paige Marie, what on Earth are you doing?” I asked, grabbing her hand in mine until she looked up at me. “After all the stranger danger drills we’ve had, and you run up to a grown man on the playground?”

Paige’s face screwed up in confusion. “Coach isn’t a stranger,” she argued, looking at Jordan before she glanced back up at me with her hand stretched toward him. “It’s Coach.”

I pursed my lips — my classic Mom Look — and Paige shrunk an inch.

“Yeah, Sydney,” Jordan said, tapping his chest with both hands. “I’m Coach. I’m not a stranger.”

“You do not know Jordan personally,” I said to my daughter, ignoring Jordan completely — mostly because he was still very shirtless and I did not know how I felt about that. “I understand that he feels safe because he is in a position of power in a sport that you love, but you still need to be safe, okay? You do not run up to an adult that is not your family without talking to me first. Understand?”