Southern Playboy (North Carolina Highlands 4)

“You keep bringing that up. I’m that memorable, huh?”

“Please.” Grinning, he rolls his eyes. “Does anyone forget their first?”

“Not really, no.” I move Liam to my other hip. “Although some might want to.”

Rhett rises to his feet and pads over to us. He holds out his hands to Liam. “But not you, right?”

“This is healthy,” I grunt as I hand Liam over, trying very hard not to blush at Rhett’s kindness. His consideration. “You and I are talking about doing it as teenagers in front of your son.”

“What a wholesome upbringing I’m providing.” Rhett smooths Liam’s shirt over his belly. Liam glances over Rhett’s shoulder at the TV. “Maybe you really would be better off if I wasn’t around so much.”

I cuff Rhett’s shoulder, once again amazed and aroused and slightly angered even, by the firmness of his build. “Stop. You’re doing great. Maybe that’s why this extension thing is throwing you for such a loop—because you care so much about everyone and everything.”

“Could be.” He cuts me a look. “Or it could be me rebelling against all this responsibility that’s been piled on my plate all of a sudden. I wanna win that Super Bowl, A. So, so bad. As things stand now, I only have one more season to do it. But this would give me more time, which means less pressure.”

“Higher risk of brain injury.”

His eyes stay locked on mine.

I know, they say.

I know.

“You’re new to this dad thing,” I say. “But you’ve always had family around you. You’ve always had them to consider, and they’ve always considered you too. They’ve always had your back, Rhett, and I think we can agree you’ve learned how to be a good brother, son, and parent from the best.”

Rhett scoffs, even as his Adam’s apple dips. “My dad was hardly the best.”

“But your mom is. I’ll fight you if you say otherwise about Junie. And from what your brothers and sisters say, your dad was pretty great too, before he got sick. My point is, you’ve learned how to make good decisions from good people. Trust yourself to make the right call here.”

“Lili want bus, We-wa. Bus,” Liam says, looking at me.

“Okay, buddy, go get your bus,” Rhett replies. He sets down Liam, who scurries over to his toys. He picks up his bus but then quickly abandons it for a Cabbage Patch doll. Rhett’s been lucky so far; Liam is a pretty independent player, which isn’t usual for a two-year-old.

“That’s just it, though,” Rhett continues. “I don’t disagree with you about making good decisions. It’s just that I’ve always known what the right call is—my gut always knows what’s right—but this feels different. Everything about the past two weeks has thrown me off my game, and I’m struggling to find my footing.” He runs a hand up the back of his head as he watches Liam bang the doll’s head against a rainbow-colored xylophone. “I don’t know what to do.”

Do me, I want to say.

“Do you,” I say instead.

He turns his head and smiles. “Do who now?”

“Don’t go there,” I reply, but I’m smiling too. “What I mean to say is, you do you. Just keep doing what you’re doing. One foot in front of the other, one day at a time—Rhett, you’ll figure it out. You’re always, always doing better than you think, all right?”

He looks at me for a long beat. “You are too, you know,” he says at last. Softly, like he knows it’s a blow that’ll land right where it hurts.

And it does hurt. But not in the way I thought it would.

It’s a good hurt, the kind that has my throat tightening not with regret but with hope.

“Thanks,” I whisper.

And then I grab Liam and start our day. If I don’t, I’m worried I’ll do something stupid like kiss my boss.

Ex-boyfriend.

Whatever.

Chapter Seventeen

Rhett

Chest heaving, sweat dripping into my eyes, I squint at the hill. It’s steep and high, the kind that makes your quads scream and your glutes burn just looking at it. Even my traps hurt from using my arms to gain momentum when my legs gave out on my tenth sprint up the grassy slope.

“One more,” Tom says.

But I’m dead. Literally dead inside from my first two-a-day since the season ended six months ago. Despite my best efforts, I can’t summon the will to go on.

Putting my hands on my knees, I hang my head, feeling dizzy. “I’m done.”

“No, you’re not.” Tom checks his watch. “First two-a-day always sucks. Dig deep and power through. This is where you’re gonna build that endurance.”

That’s just it, though. I’m digging, and I’m coming up empty-handed. It’s like the wind’s gone out of my sails. Not only am I out of gas but I also have no desire to replenish the stores. I could guzzle some water, grab a bite of the nasty protein bars I always keep in my gym bag for times like this.