Page 64 of Second Chance Baby

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Page 64 of Second Chance Baby

You did that. Don’t blame his brother for being concerned. Who wouldn’t be in this situation? Moose just doesn’t want to see his little brother get hurt again.

I just had to dig my heels in and prove I intended to stick this time. No one was going to run me off this time, not even the formidable Masterson brothers.

Because dammit, I loved him too.

My mistake had been not fighting for that love with everything I had. Fear wasn’t going to rule me any longer. I wasn’t my mother, for fuck’s sake.

But weren’t you?

I had done exactly what I’d feared most.

But I had to be brave. I told Penn I was fighting for my family, and that was exactly what I was going to do. I was older and hopefully, wiser. I understood what life was like without Travis and my daughter, and I absolutely didn’t want to return to my small apartment in the city.

Lonely and alone.

Instead of racing after Travis, I let him have some time to himself to work on the decorations. I had someone else to make up time with too.

My beautiful daughter was a force on that court.

I curled up in the corner of the wicker settee, snuggling into the cushions as the breeze kicked up, sending the many leaves across the lawn skittering and dancing. The telltale fall scent of burning leaves mixed with the undeniable breeze off the water, making me close my eyes as I tumbled headfirst into the past.

Fall football games, cheering for Travis and the rest of the team, running over to give him a hug and kiss when he yet again had a winning play. Back then, shouting for him and doing routines to encourage the team had seemed so familiar in the very best way. But now it was almost foreign and exotic somehow to remember when we had been such a natural unit.When I’d told him how much I loved him almost as naturally as I breathed.

It had just been so long. And now? I’d cheer on our daughter. Though thankfully, that didn’t require me wearing a cheerleading outfit I’d never be able to fit into or to do splits.

Splits were the worst.

Carrington dribbled and pump-faked around her uncle, who, surprisingly, could mostly keep up with her. Moose had gotten his moniker from being a big guy like his dad, Hank. Now he was possibly even more muscular than Travis. Guess married life was treating him well. I had to give him points, because I sure couldn’t imagine keeping up with Care.

I lost track of how many baskets she made and the number of rebounds she collected. The wind kicked up even more as more lights came on automatically, highlighting her speed and efficiency on the mini court.

“Look at you go!” I couldn’t stop myself from leaping up and clapping for her when she dunked right by her much taller uncle, who laughed and fell back good-naturedly.

Again, his gaze lingered on me, but now he was smiling, clearly approving of my enthusiasm over the game.

Over my talented little girl who wasn’t so little anymore.

“You must have scored on him, what, ten times?”

“Hey, hey,” Moose said, laughing hard as he dropped back in play exhaustion. “Kid is killing me, but do you have to make it so obvious?”

“Sorry, just stating the facts.” I held up my hands in a mock apology.

“Or hey, Mom, why don’t you play too so Uncle Moose can get some water and maybe take a nap to recuperate?” Carrington giggled.

“Now I need a nap, huh?” Moose sat up on the asphalt and raked a hand through his tousled blondish brown curls, so like Travis’s.

Travis’s hair had darkened over the years and now was closer to dark brown, with just the occasional lighter highlight here and there. And his densely growing-in scruff was definitely all dark. I’d even seen a stray silver hair here and there in the sun, which just made him hotter as far as I was concerned.

“Well, you’re old. So’s my mom, but not as old as you.” Carrington nudged him with her knee where he’d sprawled on the asphalt, legs stretched wide.

“Thanks, kid,” I said drily, leaping to my feet when I would’ve preferred to curl up on the settee to take a nap. The long, eventful last couple of days were catching up to me, so I was feeling every bit of my age at the moment. But that didn’t stop me from jogging over to snatch the ball from my daughter, dribbling tentatively as I worked on at least keeping it away from her. I had no clue how to play but I knew if she had the ball, I’d lose right away.

I wasn’t even sure I could make a single basket, never mind take a 3-point shot. I’d need a damn stepladder to get up to that basket. I was tall, sure, but I was better with a racket.

Even so, I started to get a feel for the rhythm of the game, although I nearly turned an ankle half a dozen times. But I managed to keep the ball away from my daughter for at least a few minutes. I had a feeling she was going easy on me.

I appreciated the help.




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