For Forester

MARIN

I puttered around my kitchen, looking for something to occupy my time, but I found myself drawn to the window where I had a clear view of Trace and CJ tossing a football in the backyard. Trace had texted earlier. I never expected him to show up fifteen minutes later. But he had, and I hadn’t seen CJ smile that much in a very long time. Sure, he and I had fun together. But there was just something about a boy and a big strong guy who could teach him a thing or two about football that felt right.

My phone rang. I jumped, the guilt of enjoying the view so much startling me. I grabbed the phone from the table. It was my best friend Gayle. “Hey.”

“You sleep with him yet?” she asked.

“Oh my God. What is wrong with you?”

“Me? Have you seen the guy in his uniform? The guy could be a freakin’ model.”

Outside, Trace tossed the football gently so CJ had a slight chance of actually catching it. He didn’t. It bounced off the grass in front of him, but he ran after it, laughing as he did. “Yes, I've seen the teenager in my backyard.”

“He’s not a teenager,” Gayle said.

“Yes, he is. I looked it up. He’s nineteen.”

There was a pause on her end, like she just realized I was a sicko who’d actually looked him up. “Wait. How is he nineteen and a senior?”

“I have no idea.”

“Well, who cares?” she said. “You’re single and he’s hot.”

I laughed as I turned from the window and moved into the living room.

“And when are you ever gonna have a hot piece of ass under your roof again?” Gayle asked.

I scoffed. “You’re acting like he sees me as anything other than a woman with a kid who needs a guy around.”

“Marin, you’re beautiful and fun. You deserve to get some action.”

“You do realize you're encouraging me to jump his bones, right?”

“I never said jump his bones. Just wear something tight. Bend over and let him see your hot ass. You’d barely have to do anything.”

“You’re insane.” I laughed. “And I could go to jail.”

“Why could you go to jail?” a deep voice asked from behind me.

I spun around, my heart drumming in my chest. Trace stood in the doorway smirking, like he’d heard my conversation.

Had he?

“Gayle, I gotta go.” I disconnected the call. “Where’s CJ?” I was going for nonchalance, but the heat flaming in my cheeks said otherwise.

“He just needed the bathroom. Figured I’d grab him a drink.”

I blinked hard as the heat from my cheeks spread to the rest of my body. I hurried into the kitchen and grabbed two bottles of water from the refrigerator. Even Charles wouldn’t have thought to grab CJ a drink.

Trace followed me into the kitchen. “So, you didn’t say.” His deep voice sent chills to parts of my body that had lain dormant for far too long. “Why are you going to jail?”

“Oh, that was just my friend being crazy.”

I handed him one of the bottles. His fingertips skimmed mine. My eyes shot to his, but he just smiled like it had been unintentional. Maybe it had been. Maybe all Gayle’s talk about bending over was making me jittery. Making me see things that weren’t there.

“CJ’s a great kid,” Trace said.

I stepped back a couple feet, distancing myself from his nearness which was overwhelming now that we stood alone in my kitchen. “Thanks.”

“No, I’m serious. He’s funny and really athletic.”

“He gets that from me,” I joked.

“Hey, Trace?” CJ said, bouncing into the kitchen.

Trace turned to him. “What’s up, buddy?”

“Can we play basketball tomorrow?”

“Oh, CJ,” I said. “Trace is busy. He can’t play with you every day.”

“Sure I can,” Trace said.

My eyes cut to his. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Maybe I want to.”

Do not read into this, Marin. Do not put expectations on him. “When you have time.”

“I’ll make time,” he assured me.

I turned away from him before I did something crazy like hug him for being so much better than Charles.

“Can we Trace?” CJ asked.

“Sure. I’ll come get you so we can play on my net.” He looked to me. “Is that okay?”

I did one of those shrug-nods that were only acceptable when you were at a total loss for the appropriate words.

He looked to CJ. “Have your basketball ready.”

“Okay,” CJ said, his eyes all dreamy like Trace hung the moon.

Trace held out his fist which CJ gladly bumped. “See you tomorrow, buddy.” He glanced over his shoulder at me. “Bye, Marin.”

“Wait.” I grabbed my handbag from the counter. “Let me give you something.”

Trace took the two steps necessary for his long stride to cross my kitchen. His hand covered mine, stopping me from reaching for my wallet. “Stop.”

My heartbeat did a crazy skip, the unexpected strength of his grip and warmth of his touch catching me off guard. “But I—”

He leveled me with serious eyes, lowering his voice so CJ couldn’t hear. “I want to be here.”

I cocked my head, trying to ignore the tingling of his touch. “I know you’re busy.”

“Then make me a meal.”

“What?”

“Feed me.” He released my hand and stepped back. “My mother’s cooking sucks.”

I stared dumbstruck. One, because his mother still made him meals. And two, because I couldn’t believe he actually wanted to spend time with a single mother and her kid when he could be off sweeping girls off their feet with a mere glance.

“Can you do that?” he asked.

“Cook?”

His lips tipped up in the corners. “Make me a meal.”

“I can do that.”

“I bet there’s a lot you can do,” he murmured as he walked to the front door.

What the what?

“See you guys,” he called before slipping out the door as if he’d never been there at all.

I leaned back against the counter. The knocking of my pulse told me he definitely had been there.

“What’s wrong, Mom?”

I looked to CJ, his blond hair so much like mine. His green eyes his father's. “Nothing, buddy. Nothing at all.”

And this time I wasn’t lying to my son.

***

“You coming?” Trace asked the following day before taking CJ to play basketball.

From my spot in the open doorway, I looked at them standing on the front lawn. CJ was so tiny next to Trace’s tall frame. But he looked so damn happy. “Me?”

Trace nodded. “Yeah, you.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s fun.” He placed his big hand down on CJ’s shoulder, earning him a huge grin from his biggest fan. “And because my buddy here likely has some mad skills he wants to show off in front of his mom.”

I smiled, appreciating how he knew just what to say to make CJ worship him even more than he already did. “Maybe I’ll come by later. I need to cut the lawn.”

His brows shot up. “Cut the lawn?”

I nodded. “Had to get rid of the landscaper.”

Trace’s brows leveled out, the state of my financial situation obviously hitting him. “Let me do it for you.”

I shook my head. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m quite capable of pushing a lawnmower.”

He stood silently for a long minute. “Fine. But come by after.”

“Okay,” I relented.

“Good.”

“Good,” I echoed as they disappeared around the corner toward his house. I wondered what he meant by good. Good I was going to see my son play basketball. Or ~good~ he wanted me there.

God, what was wrong with me? I was a grown woman getting excited over a teenager. A teenager for Christ’s sake. I was sick. I needed help. Maybe I needed to talk to someone. And I didn’t mean Gayle.

I spent the hour after they left mowing the lawn and it was a lot bigger than I realized. I’d let the landscaper go last week and it had been some time since I’d pushed a lawnmower. But I’d done it, and a small sense of accomplishment swept over me. I didn’t need Charles. I was getting along just fine without a man in my life. And even if I hadn’t found a job yet, I was still managing.

After a quick shower, I whipped up sloppy Joes—something Charles hated—and headed to Trace’s house. I stopped behind my neighbor’s small hedge and watched them undetected.

CJ ran around Trace’s driveway laughing hysterically as he tried unsuccessfully to steal the ball away from Trace. After a couple minutes of teasing him, Trace let him steal the ball, feigning disappointment when CJ shot the ball. His shot didn’t even make it halfway to the net, but Trace clapped as he jogged to grab it. “Good one, buddy.”

I walked toward them, unable to contain my smile. “Nice shot.”

They both twisted, smiling as soon as they spotted me.

“Did you see it?” CJ asked.

“Yep. You almost had him.”

“He did,” Trace agreed, shooting me a conspiratorial grin. “Gave me a real run for my money. You wanna try?”

I rolled my eyes. “Me?”

“You do realize you answer every one of my questions with a question, right?”

“I do?”

He nodded, smirking at yet another question.

“Well, I’m more of a spectator. I haven’t played a sport since high school.”

“What’d you play?”

“Volleyball.”

“Yeah.” His eyes dropped to my legs. The heat his stare elicited had me questioning my favorite cutoffs. “I can see that.”

Gahhhh.

Trace grabbed hold of CJ who laughed as he lifted him onto his shoulders. Given Trace’s height, CJ would have no trouble dunking the ball. “Come on Mom,” CJ called. “Come block me.”

Surprising them both, I threw my arms in the air and tried blocking CJ who held the ball on Trace’s shoulders. Trace gripped CJ’s legs before he moved right. Doing my best to block him, I moved right. Trace moved them left. CJ snort-laughed, igniting laughter in all of us as I followed them to the left.

I couldn’t ignore the comfortable feeling that swept over me. This was how easy life should have been. The fun. The laughter. The focus on our child. How did some college guy get that and not Charles? Was it just that he fell out of love with me? Was it that life became too tough when we had responsibilities? Or could life really be this easy?

CJ shot the ball over me and it swished through the net. He howled with excitement as Trace lowered him to the ground and bumped his fist. “Thanks, Trace.” CJ turned and threw himself into my arms. “I did it.”

I squeezed him into a hug and savored the moment, knowing I’d soon be replaced with friends and school and girls. Girls. The dreaded word for all mothers of sons. Especially when that son thought you were the most amazing girl in the world.

“Put me on your shoulders, Mom.”

I threw back my head in laughter. “Yeah right. You’ll crush me.”

He stepped out of my arms and looked me up and down. “You’re right. I am pretty strong.”

My eyes ventured to Trace, standing nearby with his arms crossed and his focus on me.

A smirk slipped across his lips, and I felt fairly confident it was the same one that melted panties on campus. “I’d like a shot.”

“You’d definitely crush me,” I assured him.

He laughed. “That’s not what I meant.”

I felt the creases in my forehead deepen. “You want me on your shoulders?”

“That’d be interesting,” he mused. “But I meant one on one. You and me.” He grabbed the ball from the driveway and alternated between hands, bouncing it in front of me, his eyes never wavering from mine. “Scared?” he asked.

“Of what?” I asked.

“Losing.”

“Nope. Losing I’ve mastered. It’s winning I need a shot at.” I swiped the ball away from him, dribbling it to the far end of the driveway. His deep laughter carried over my shoulders, and soon I felt his body behind me, his arms playfully reaching for the ball. His chest brushed my back slightly, but he kept himself from stealing the ball. I dribbled around him and shot an easy layup which dropped into the net as if I actually knew what I was doing.

CJ cheered and Trace shot me a satisfied grin. He let me make the shot. He let me look good in front of my son. Was there anything he didn’t do right?

Happiness swelled inside me. True happiness. I just wished a teenager wasn’t making me feel that way.

“I’m hungry,” CJ announced.

I looked between the two of them. “I hope you both are. I made sloppy Joe’s.”

Traces eyes rounded. “I’m invited?”

“A deal’s a deal. Unless, you have plans.”

A hot as hell smile swept across his lips. “I do now.”

***

CJ wiped his mouth with his crumpled napkin as he pushed his chair back from the kitchen table. “Enough grown up talk. Can I play a video game?”

“Go ahead,” I said.

“I’m a grown up?” Trace asked.

I stood, grabbing the empty dishes. “It happens faster than you know.”

“Not for me,” CJ said, jumping to his feet and running out of the kitchen. “Love you more than the universe, Mom,” he called as his footsteps clomped up the hardwood steps.

“Love you too,” I called before looking to Trace. “That. That right there. That’s what makes every day worth it. That unconventional love and honesty you’ll only ever get from a child.”

“I don’t think that’s only reserved for kids,” Trace challenged, standing and grabbing our empty glasses.

I scoffed. “Haven’t met many who I can trust wholeheartedly.”

He took the glasses to the counter before turning and leaning against it, studying me with narrowed eyes. “Your ex did a real number on you, huh?”

I turned from the sink and leaned against the counter beside him. “I find myself thinking back to everything he ever said and did, trying to figure out what was the truth and what was a big fat lie.”

“Doesn't sound like it’s doing you any good.”

“You’re probably right.”

“I am right,” he assured me, his serious tone leaving no room for doubt.

“And what’s worse is we’re not even divorced yet,” I explained. “It takes a while for all the logistics to be worked out.”

“That sucks.”

“Yep. CJ and I are just biding our time in this house until I can sell it and move somewhere I’ll be able to afford on my own.” I shrugged. “The one good thing about Charles cheating is he still pays the mortgage. Guilt I assume.”

Trace’s lips twisted. “CJ’s never once mentioned him.”

“His dad?”

Trace nodded.

“That’s what happens when you move an hour away from your son and barely call him or come by to take him out.”

“Someday he’ll realize he missed out.”

I stepped away from the counter and rolled my eyes. “Would you look at me? I shouldn’t be unloading on you like this. I’m sorry.”

“You can unload on me anytime you want.”

I laughed. “Oh, yeah. That’s what all college guys say. Right before they hand you another red cup and lead you somewhere quiet to talk.”

He grinned and his damn dimples dug in. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m serious.”

I cocked my head. “When I was in college, my biggest problem was deciding which frat party to go to on Saturday night. I assume your problems are pretty similar.”

He shook his head. “Football’s a huge stressor for me. If I have any chance of going pro, there’s no room for failure. I need to stay in shape, know the plays, and work my ass off. And while I may frequent the occasional party, I need to keep my eye on the prize.”

“Which is?”

“Winning.” His blue eyes moved over my face. “At all costs.”

A shiver raced up my spine. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not just talking about football?”

His lips twitched. “I like being good at everything I do.”

Gah. Why was everything out of his mouth so damn sexy? My mind instantly flashed to dirty places.

I was going to hell. I was going straight. To. Hell.

Trace pushed off the counter. I tipped my head back to look at him as he stood in front of me. “Thanks for lunch.”

“Anytime.”

He stared down at me for a moment longer, then moved toward the front door and called upstairs. “See you tomorrow, CJ.”

“Bye, Trace. Thanks for playing with me,” CJ called.

Trace glanced to me. “You raised a hell of a kid.”

“Yeah. I did, didn’t I?”

His soft laughter followed him out the front door.