Jacob: A Clean Billionaire Romance

Christina Benjamin

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Epilogue

Also by Christina Benjamin

About the Author

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher.

Copyright © 2019 by Christina Benjamin

All rights reserved.

Published in the United States by Crown Atlantic Publishing

Version 1.1

July 2019

Chapter 1

Jake

Rain showers down overhead as I dive through the fogged glass of the apartment building’s double doors. The lobby of the luxe uptown flat has plush but currently sodden crimson rugs lining the long hall with ornate golden baseboards. It’s a bit garish for my taste, but the security team the building offers to its select occupants makes up for it.

I trot over the soggy rugs to pristine marble, two fingers pressing against the base of my neck to make sure my pulse is still high enough. My lungs burn in the best way, a satisfied grin tugging at my cheeks.

Feet squeaking across the slick tile, I plunge a silver key into the mailbox labeled Jacob Eckhart and hastily rip a short stack of envelopes from within, thrusting them under my arm.

I don’t look at them right away, focusing on counting my footsteps instead. I’d jogged all the way back to the apartment once football practice ended, opting to cram a bit more conditioning in despite the rain.

Working out is my escape.

In the midst of sweat, a pounding heart and burning muscles, I can forget everything—and there’s a lot I want to forget.

Football and the raw dedication I put toward it is what keeps my mind from creeping down into those dark alleys I want to avoid. Plus, my entire livelihood hinges on my body being in a state of peak physical perfection at all times.

Whenever I have a free second, I drop into a quick set of crunches or stretches or sit-ups. Even during the offseason when some of my teammates take vacations or some time off to relax and soften up around the middle, I only train harder.

I have to keep fit if I'm going to stay the most valuable tight end in NFL history.

There’s a certain amount of pride I have in my football rankings every year, not to mention that there’s always someone younger and more energetic than I am nipping at my heels and trying to displace me.

Unfortunately for them, they don’t have the drive or the internal longing to succeed that I do.

Those rookies haven’t experienced the harsh realities of this cold world like I have. They also don’t have someone depending on them like I do.

I have to succeed.

There’s no notion inside my mind of simply trying to do my best. I don’t subscribe to the c’est la vie attitude. I have to come out on top so that I can maintain a stable career. There’s just no other option. Ryan needs me too much.

A pang of sudden grief stabs through my heart as I stare down at the letter on top of the stack in my hands. I suck in a deep breath, feet slowing to a halt underneath me. I blink hard, willing the addressee on the envelope to vanish, but the stamped name remains clear as day.

Instead of jogging up the six flights of stairs to my apartment—our apartment—I push a hard finger against the elevator’s button and wait.

I don’t remember the last time I took the lift to my penthouse suite, but my feet feel like they’re frozen in concrete blocks. I can’t move. I don’t need this today. I need to keep moving, keep pressing forward, but my chest feels like it’s caving in as I try to catch my breath.

The letter is addressed to Jenny Eckhart. A red stamp across the front of the envelope reads, You’ve been selected for a one-of-a-kind deal!

My fingers ache to crush the spam letter into a crumpled ball, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Not while staring at my older sister’s name embossed on the front.

Junk mail. It’s always the random grocery store coupons or unsolicited credit cards that still come for her. I canceled everything else when I forwarded Jenny’s mailing address to my own after her abrupt passing last year.

Has it really already been a year since our lives were turned upside down?

It feels like mere days and endless centuries all at once. I still can’t imagine life without her, but it feels like she’s been gone so long that she was never even here to begin with.

Sometimes I catch Ryan staring at her photo and I wonder how the little man is taking it. He was only five then, but now he’s six and reminds me so much of Jenny that it’s hard to look at him at times. He’s a good kid, nothing like myself when I was that age. He’s smarter than I was. Probably because he had Jenny as a mother, and she’s the smartest person I ever knew.

She was a lot of things to a lot of people, and all those things were good.

She was good—an angel in human form.

And now she’s gone and I'm the legal guardian of her son, my nephew.

Together, Ryan and I moved some of the things from their old apartment into my penthouse. At the time, I swore up and down it was only because I wanted Ryan to feel as comfortable in his new home as possible, but it was also because it’s nice to feel close to Jenny, like some part of her still lives on in her belongings.

Her framed photos are now tacked on my walls, pictures Ryan drew on the fridge, and Jenny’s favorite photo of me in my football gear as a sweaty ten-year-old beaming after practice on the desk.

Ryan moved his secondhand racing bed and soft as silk pillows into what used to be my office. I’ve done what I can to make it feel like a little boy’s room, but the walls are still white and boring. They don’t quite fit Ryan’s personality, but if he minds, he hasn’t mentioned it.

I’m sure he has more pressing things on his mind—like missing his mom.

While Jenny was alive she rarely let me help her with bills, even after I made it big in the world of professional football. She was always determined to make it on her own. The one thing she did allow me to pay was the tuition to some fancy school in Manhattan for Ryan. While she would never accept cash or expensive presents on her own behalf, nothing was too good for her little boy.

I was glad to do anything to help her and Ryan. It was the least I could do after everything she did for me when we were kids . . .

The ding of the approaching elevator disrupts my swirling thoughts.

I finally collect myself enough to move safely into the gold-plated lift. Once inside, I turn to press the button to my floor while absently thumbing through the rest of the stack of mail. The rain-streaked world floats by as the elevator climbs the glass channel to the penthouse. I gaze out the windows to the streets below as an eerie feeling settles over me.

The rain is still coming down in sheets, making the windows fog.

A shiver curls up my spine, just like it always does every time it pours like this.

The weather was just like this that day—the day that changed everything.

I remember it like it was yesterday . . . I was in the middle of running drills when we stopped for a water break. I don’t remember the specific conversations I’d been having, but I remember laughing with the guys and Coach. I remember being so proud of myself for how I was performing. It’d only just begun to rain, water and sweat soaking me through.

Then I saw I had over a dozen missed calls from numbers I didn't have saved. I was used to the odd fan calls or messages, but there was something about the sheer number that made my entire body go cold. My stomach was in knots before I even picked up the phone, Coach’s whistle fading into numb emptiness behind me. I didn't hear him shouting my name to get back on the field as I listened to voicemail after voicemail. At some point I sank down to my knees, all energy zapped from my body.

The unknown calls were all from reporters asking what I would do now that my sister was dead and my nephew was orphaned.

That’s how I found out my best friend, my sister, the woman who raised me, was gone forever.

Jerked back to reality by the memory, I wheeze slightly and grab hold of the elevator rail to keep myself standing.

It’s been almost a year and that wound is as fresh as the day it ripped through my heart.

I can tell Ryan is still struggling too. He’s just a little guy but he’s already been through so much.

The elevator finally rises high enough that the windows disappear, replaced with solid walls that block out the rain. I return my attention to the mail. I come to a stiff envelope within the small pile. It feels like it was starched at a laundry mat, but the swirling handwriting on the front is surprisingly delicate. I don’t realize it’s from Ryan’s hoity-toity school, where he’s recently started first grade, until I rip open the envelope and see the familiar St. James emblem embossed across the top of the letterhead.

Good afternoon, Mr. Eckhart, the letter begins in that same warm scrawl. I'm writing this because I’ve attempted to leave a message with you a few times, but your voice mailbox is full.

Fair point. I stopped allowing messages after the horrific day when I found out about Jenny.

I’ve also sent home a few notes with Ryan that were meant to be signed but I have a feeling you haven’t seen them.

That was also true. I didn't nag Ryan. I liked to let him feel like he had control over some things in his hectic life.

I urgently need to speak with you regarding Ryan. If you could call St. James Academy at your earliest convenience, I would deeply appreciate the chance to speak with you. Thank you, Miss Davis.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes as I finish reading the first-grade teacher’s letter.

No kid is perfect, especially a six-year-old who’s gone through what Ryan has, but I know I have to at least try to take this letter seriously. Jenny would want that.

She was the kind of person who would give anything and do everything to make sure the people she loved succeeded. That’s what made her such an amazing parent—something I am not.

It’s just that becoming a father was never something I’d even considered before now.

My focus was football, women, parties and my bachelor lifestyle. I loved and cherished Jenny and Ryan too, but that was a separate kind of love.

Now, I'm completely lost, adrift in a sea of parenthood I never could’ve seen coming.

Jenny and I don’t have any other family. Growing up we only had each other to depend on, and with her being six years older than me, she raised me with a hand way more delicate than our mother’s ever was. While alive, our parents wanted little to do with us. When they died while I was still fairly young, I barely noticed the transition to my sister becoming my fulltime guardian.

It’s strange to think that I’m now following in her footsteps. Did she feel this ill prepared? She was younger than me when she had to step up and raise me, but somehow I doubt she ever felt lost, like I do now. I close my eyes and Jenny’s fierce dark eyes sear my memory. Ryan has those same eyes.

God, Jenny, I don’t want to fail you, but I need some help here.

My sister always knew what to do. She was the one who pushed me to go to football practices even when I didn't want to and she was the one always at my games cheering me on. I owe my entire career and sense of passion for the sport to her.

So when it came down to Ryan either being forced into foster care or me stepping up to the parenting plate, I had no other choice.

I took him in, believing that I had enough money to make this whole ‘dad’ thing easy enough. I could buy nannies (who may just happen to be gorgeous) and that would be good enough. Right?

I stare down at the letter from Miss Davis.

Apparently not.

I’m finding out the hard way that to be a dad, you actually have to know a thing or two about kids. I’ve always believed money solves everything, but it hasn’t helped heal the holes in our hearts.

When the elevator doors glide open, I step out and nudge my cell from out of my pocket. Even after all this time I wince when I look at it, still seeing all those voicemails on my phone even though I’d replaced my old cell with some fancy new high-tech device that tells me where Ryan is at all times.

For Jenny, I’ll call Miss Davis and I’ll hear her out.

I dial the number printed on the school’s letterhead. The phone rings in my ear, the hollow sound knotting my stomach.

I'm amazing at football. That’s just the solid truth. But it’s only because I follow the playbook Coach lays out for me.

Why can’t being a father be that simple? Where’s my playbook now?

Chapter 2

Stacy

Even though my back is turned toward the flock of six to seven-year-olds while I scribble away on the white board, I can hear their giggles and the flick of paper notes being tossed from one corner to the other, whispers quietly rippling in their wake.

I bite back a laugh of my own, continuing to write simple math equations across the board. I remember what it was like to be that young; more interested in chatting with my friends than in what the teacher was trying to demonstrate. But I'm determined to connect with these young minds and help them learn a thing or two while they’re part of my class.

This is my life now. I can hardly believe my dream has finally come true.

I’ve spent many long hours studying and working as hard as I could to get here, and now I'm a teacher at one of the most exclusive private schools in the state of New York.

My family thought I was insane when I went back to school for my master’s in education, claiming that I could get a job that was ‘just fine’ with a regular bachelor’s degree.

But I knew I wanted more than ‘just fine’.

I wanted to go beyond public school. I wanted to be part of an education system like this one. Not to mention that the paycheck is better.

It’d better be if I plan to ever pay off my endless student loans!

It’s not like the St. James job has me rolling in cash, but at least I can finally contribute my fair share toward rent for the apartment I share with my model roommate Morgan and her rockstar boyfriend, Eric.

Most days it feels more like I live alone since Morgan and Eric are constantly traveling across the country for his gigs and her modeling jobs. They’ve even had a few international tours, sending me photos of them in Ibiza or the beautiful Italian countryside.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t at least a little jealous of their success both in life and in love, but I'm also really happy for them, as well as our other roommate, Chloe, who moved out a while ago to live with the billionaire love of her life.

I sigh as I write equations on the board that make me start to tally up how much I owe my roommates. It’s not like Eric cares about covering the rent for our apartment. He’s probably making as much as Chloe’s boyfriend does with how well his band is doing . . . but that’s not the point. I don’t want someone else to have to pay my way, even if it’s not a big deal to them.

Growing up as one of eight children to a set of very overworked and budget-conscious parents, I learned to provide for myself early on. I grew to love that self-reliance. I'm proud of it. And now that I finally have the means to do so, I intended to pay Eric back for all the months of my rent he covered over the last summer.

Setting down my marker, I turn back to the children. They all straighten in their seats as angelic smiles light most of their faces. They’re hardly innocent, but I’ve got to admit they’re pretty adorable and good at playing the part.

Most of them, anyway—except for Ryan Eckhart.

He sticks out like a sore thumb, his mop of dark hair turned toward the window, his chin in his palm. He noisily taps his pencil against the wood of his desk, the point already worn down. A few irritated glances are thrown his way by the other students. His school uniform, supposed to be pressed and clean, is wrinkled and smudged with dirt from where I saw him playing in the grass before school.

I watch his deep brown eyes follow the trail of raindrops slithering across the glass window panes.

“Ryan,” I say gently, waiting for him to blink and come back to reality, but he just keeps tapping his pencil and staring out the window.

The other kids watch my interactions with Ryan like a hawk, eager to see if there’s any sort of weakness in my methods of discipline. Growing up surrounded by nannies and pampering, the students at St. James Academy are used to manipulating those around them, but I refuse to let them see a chink in my armor. If I'm going to connect with them, they can’t see me as someone they can walk all over.

I move around my desk to look at the young boy, hands finding my hips. “Ryan,” I repeat. “Ryan Eckhart. The rain cannot possibly be that entertaining.”

He stiffens as the sound of my voice pierces the haze of his daydream. His eyes shift to lock on me but his face stays slightly turned away.

“What do you want?” he asks irritably, leaving me dumbfounded.

The students snicker, heat pooling to my cheeks.

As a new teacher, I’ve had a tough time commanding the attention of the children this year and this is not going to help. If only Mr. Eckhart would actually answer his phone once in a blue moon so we could work out some sort of plan for the poor, distracted kid sitting in front of me now.

Even though I expected the transition from public schools to an elite prep school to be bumpy, it’s been rougher than I could’ve estimated. It’s like the kids can sense that I don't belong amongst the other teachers who’d once been students here and were social elites themselves. They seem to sniff out that I’m from a lesser social status than them. It’s probably a skill they picked up from their parents while they lounge in their mansions and order around their maids and butlers.

Okay, I know I’m being a little ridiculous . . . but the kids here, even the well-behaved ones, are spoiled. It’s obvious by their Louis Vuitton pencil bags and the way they gaze at me down their snooty button noses.

But I'm not here to be a pushover or to be treated with disrespect.

I'm here to help these kids not only learn a lesson or two about education, but about how to be decent young people who can make positive changes in the world. They’re going to leave my class with a new definition of humanity whether they like it or not.

Before I can rebuke the dark-haired young man who’s gone back to staring out the window, I hear the sound of a throat clearing behind me—an all too familiar sound that makes my skin crawl.

I don’t have to turn around to know who it is, but I do anyway after arranging a polite smile on my face. I'm glad I set down my marker, otherwise I’d be gripping it so tightly it may have snapped right in two.

Principal Eugene Walton, about as attractive as his name makes him sound, glowers at me from the doorway. A ruddy and round man, he has perpetual dollar signs in his eyes. He doesn’t care about these kids as much as he cares about the ridiculous paychecks he receives from their parents for tuition. It’s tiresome to work under a man who cares so little about the children, but I know not every boss is going to be flawless and good-intentioned.

Sometimes you just have to pick your battles and bite your tongue, and I’ve been doing an awful lot of that with Principal Walton.

He and I have already had a few ‘altercations’ regarding the way I like to teach my students, but I’ve done the best I can to follow his strict set of rules, within reason.

* * *

I have no idea what I’ve done this time to bring him and his quivering jowls to my room.

“Miss Davis,” he instructs snidely, jerking his chin toward my door.

“I’ll just be a moment, class,” I say with a smile, hoping they can’t sense how much I dislike the principal, but I know that kids are more perceptive than most would think.

I follow Principal Walton out into the hall and close the door behind me. The hardwood presses against my spine as I lean against the door. I can hear the familiar sound of chatter and giggles from behind it.

“Miss Davis,” he hisses again, dropping all presumptions of niceness as his ruddy face blooms bright crimson, “how many times must we discuss the illustrious reputation that many of our students’ parents have?”

“Excuse me?” I ask, baffled.

“I'm speaking, of course, about Jacob Eckhart. He called this afternoon saying that you . . .” Eugene gulps in a rasping breath of air and fanned his face as though whatever I’ve done is unthinkable, “. . . that you mailed him a letter regarding young Ryan’s performance?”

“Oh. Yes,” I answer simply, brows lifting when Principal Walton folds his arms like he’s waiting for an explanation. “I mean, you’re aware I’ve tried to send Ryan to detention multiple times.” Tried being the keyword because Principal Walton always sent Ryan back within seconds. “He speaks back to me in class and refuses to participate. I thought maybe a conference with Mr. Eckhart would clear things up.”

“Mr. Eckhart is a celebrity and a renowned football player with the NFL, Miss Davis,” spits the red-faced man as though I’m supposed to be impressed, “and you will treat him as such.”

I try to remind myself to keep calm, but irritation fizzes in my stomach like a shaken can of soda that’s already starting to spring loose. “A celebrity? Meaning that he can’t be held accountable for Ryan’s actions? Ryan needs a guiding hand—”

Principal Walton lifts a hand and cuts me off, his eyes turning to slits. “I'm only going to say this once. You are not to personally contact any of the parents from this moment on without my precise permission. If you continue to behave improperly, I will have no choice but to dismiss you from my staff without further references. Are we clear?”

I swallow hard, my throat tight. I can’t lose this job. It means too much to me. I’ve worked so hard to get here and I don’t want to fail.

Plus, I know what Principal Walton is saying. He’ll blacklist my name if I piss him off, something I'm sure he’s done to countless other teachers before me. Now we’re not only talking about my future here at St. James Academy, but my future as a teacher anywhere. If I get myself fired, I’ll probably have to move overseas to try and find another teaching job, and that’s assuming Eugene’s ire doesn’t follow me across continents.

When it came to Eugene Walton, you could never be too sure.

“Crystal clear,” I whisper back, sagging against the door when the principal finally turns and marches away.

I close my eyes and drag in a tired, shallow breath.

How am I supposed to make a difference with these kids if I'm constantly being held back?

Chapter 3

Jake

The rain still swirling down over New York City, I decide to drive my bright red BMW Coupe over to St. James Academy to pick up Ryan.

Because of my intensive practice schedule, I usually don’t do this myself, having the car service handle it. I used to have the nannies do it, but our latest one has quit yet again. It’s gotten to the point where we were going through nannies so quickly, I didn’t even have time to learn their names anymore. They never last, despite arriving pink-cheeked and eager to be working for the Jake Eckhart, Hartbreaker extraordinaire—that’s what my female fans call themselves.

The Hartbreakers show up at all my games, waving banners or posters with my motto, The Hartbreak Kid, painted on them.

I used to love standing there on the field, listening to the women chant my name, screaming and gushing over how much they want me. It’s surreal to be surrounded by that kind of intense love. Even though they know nothing about me, they still adore me. It’s flattering and a little disturbing simultaneously.

At first, I’d been perfectly happy hiring some of my fans when they’d apply to the nanny position to help me with Ryan’s care. I figured that they loved me so much, they’d love Ryan too. But as soon as I told them what I expected, which was to spend more time with my nephew than with me, they bailed.

I guess they’d imagined a gig where they got to wear tight dresses and seductively smile while on my arm at some star-studded event instead of actually looking after Ryan—and the few that did actually try to be a decent nanny for Ryan left because of his behavior.

I know he’s not perfect, but I also know the last year has been hell for us both.

Why can’t I just find the right person to be Ryan’s nanny?

Responsible, understanding, kind. Those are the traits he needs, as well as someone who isn’t completely obsessed with my celebrity status as a pro football star.

I'm so busy with my career that I desperately need someone else to help with him, but it seems no amount of money can find the type of person who will be the perfect fit. I’ve even tried multiple nanny agencies in town and they were of little help as well. No one even makes it a week. I’ve tried to talk to Ryan about how rude he can be with the nannies, but I can’t make the little man like someone, and I'm not going to force him to hang out with people he doesn’t like day in and day out.

I wish I could find someone who he took to naturally, but it’s not like I have time to screen a million caregivers. Not when I feel like I’ve already exhausted all available avenues with little luck.

I pull into the school parking lot and hear the car next to me blaring the popular new Disney movie song as two little girls merrily sing along with it.

Now that’s what I need—a Disney Princess to drop out of the sky.

“Fat chance,” I mutter to myself. I learned to stop believing in fairytales a long time ago.

As my car idles in the parking lot, Ryan is easy enough to spot. With just my short break during practice, I'm later than some of the other parents so there aren’t many kids left waiting to be picked up. Quickly, I park and slam the door shut, rushing through the rain.

I instantly feel the eyes of the other parents on me. Maybe I shouldn’t have driven my flashiest car. My BMW attracts a lot of attention and it isn’t exactly a kid-friendly vehicle, but it gets the job done. And I love driving it.

I ignore the stares and head toward Ryan. His eyes round as I approach, shooting to his feet so fast that his bright green backpack tumbles to his feet and all his stuff falls out. Luckily, he’s under the awning so his things don’t land in a puddle. With a chuckle, I help him pick everything up and put it away again.

“You’re picking me up today, Uncle Jake?” Ryan asks, delight in his small voice.

“You betcha. But before we go, is Miss Davis around?” I hadn't been able to get a hold of her when I called earlier, and I wanted to do Jenny proud and make more of an effort to track the teacher down.

Ryan deflates and rolls his eyes. He glances around then jerks his chin to the side where a woman is standing with her back to us, helping other kids get into cars from under the porte-cochere. My eyes linger on her, taking in her petite, curvy stature. I can’t see her face but the shape of her body is enticing.

You can take the kid out of the Hartbreaker, but not the Hartbreaker out of the kid, I suppose.

I clear my throat and rip my eyes back to focus on my nephew. “That her?”

“Yeah. Did she tell on me?” Ryan asks with a pout.

I grin and tickle his ribs until he finally cracks a little smile and squeals in laughter.

“Nope. I just want to introduce myself to your teacher. Your mom always did that, didn’t she?”

Ryan eyes me, then gives a faint nod. “I guess.”

“I’ll be right back, kiddo.” I squeeze his shoulder and then straighten, ignoring the pining looks of other housewives as I walk toward the cute brunette teacher.

Seeming to sense my approach, Miss Davis turns to look up at me as my powerful strides echo behind her. She’s beautiful, brown curls slipping from her bun to into her warm hazel eyes.

My steps falter and I stop a good five feet away from her. For a second, I’m completely frozen. It’s like I’ve forgotten how to make my legs work.

She smiles at me uncertainly, but there’s a warmth to her face that suddenly makes my nerves fade. “Miss Davis?”

She nods and I close the awkward distance between us, taking the small hand she extends. Her fingers are smooth and soft and the way she grips my hand while shaking it sends sparks through my veins.

“And you are?” she asks curiously.

“Jake Eckhart. I got your letter but when I called the school they said you weren’t available so I thought I’d just come and talk to you face-to-face if you’re free.”

Her eyes shift, skimming over a few of the other adults hanging around and then she takes a step closer and drops her voice. “That’s wonderful, Mr. Eckhart, but—”

“Jake,” I interrupt with a wince. “Please.” No one calls me Mr. Eckhart. It’s too stiff and formal.

She laughs, noting my expression. “In that case, you can call me Stacy. I'm not sure if you’re aware but Ryan’s been having quite some difficulties lately.”

As she talks she keeps glancing around us as though she’s worried some monster is going to pop out of the shadows. She’s clearly distracted. Maybe I should have picked a better time for this.

“I wasn’t aware, but it’s understandable considering his mother passed a year ago,” I say with a shrug, sure she’ll understand the circumstances and take it a little easier on the kid.

Her eyes soften, jaw dropping just a little. After a moment she recovers her even expression though there’s the faintest glimmer of sympathy in her eyes now. “I-I'm so sorry. I wasn’t informed of that. You must miss your wife dearly.”

I clear my throat, hand running through my hair. “My sister, actually. I took over as guardian for Ryan.”

A hand flies to her delicate mouth. Stacy’s cheeks flush pink in embarrassment. “Oh! I'm sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

I shrug. It’s not the first time someone has made that assumption in the last year. “Anyway, now that you know what Ryan’s going through, I'm hoping that we can all just move past this? I know he’s a bit of a troublemaker, but he’s been through so much. All he really needs is time, and maybe a bit less homework.”

Stacy frowns at me, her pink lips drawing into a stern smile that suddenly reminds me of how it feels to be in the principal’s office at school—a location I knew quite well when I was Ryan’s age. That’s perhaps what makes me feel like he’ll eventually move past this whole mess and turn out fine. I did. At least mostly. Right?

“Are you suggesting that we just ignore what is clearly a cry for help from your nephew?” she asks with a somberness that catches me off guard.

Last year when I informed his previous teacher of the situation, she’d been willing to immediately give Ryan an ‘A’ for the year, while batting her lashes at me. Granted, it was only kindergarten, but still.

Stacy, however, seems to be emanating displeasure in thick waves that push me back a solid step from her.

“I just mean temporarily,” I add. “Give Ryan some more time to adjust.”

“I'm sorry, Jake, but the last thing I'm going to do is turn a blind eye to Ryan’s behavior. I’m going to keep expecting his homework on time and I'm going to keep expecting you to provide support for him at home. Children, especially ones in situations like Ryan’s, need structure, discipline, and an outlet for his grief. Is he seeing a counselor?”

I bite back a groan, feeling my own sense of annoyance swell. This lady isn’t getting it. I'm not like the rest of these parents here—I'm not even a parent!

“Yes, we’ve both seen grief counselors. Trust me, it didn’t help.”

She frowns. “That just means you haven’t found the right counselor.”

My hand runs through my hair again, landing on my neck where I try to squeeze away the tension coursing through me. “Listen, this has been harder on me than I ever thought possible. I'm not meant to be a dad. I'm doing the best I can and so is Ryan. Letting him slide a little here and there isn’t going to hurt him.”

“I beg to differ,” she answers, voice rising slightly. “He doesn’t need excuses. A child his age needs to understand both discipline and consequence, things that I am going to continue to provide and that you should incorporate at home as well. And that doesn’t mean that fun ceases to exist, but Ryan needs to learn that there’s a time and place for everything, regardless of what he’s been through. Clearly you don’t grasp that yet.”

“I don’t!” I yell, throwing my hands in the air in exasperation. “I don’t at all. None of this makes sense to me and everything I do is wrong. I'm out of my league here. I know football better than I know myself, but fatherhood . . . I don’t even understand the rules.”

Stacy looks torn. She’s taken a step back from me, her eyes darting around the school yard again. But the sympathy is even more prevalent in her kind gaze when she looks back at me. I can’t take it. I hate being pitied—it’s just confirmation that I’m failing.

I slump back against the building for support. I let the coolness of the stone soothe my raging emotions. The weight they add to my shoulders is near crippling. If I wasn’t in the best shape of my life right now, I don’t think I’d still be standing. I close my eyes and try to draw in a steadying breath, but the sound of the rain pulls me back to that awful day and suddenly I’m there, on my knees, clutching my phone in my hand, trying to wrap my head around the fact that my sister is gone and she’s never coming back. I’m truly alone.

I open my eyes as panic grips my chest. I can’t breathe! My heart is in my throat and it feels like it’s trying to pound its way out. Am I having a heart attack?

Stacy senses my strife and quickly moves to my side. Her delicate hand slips into mine and squeezes until I focus on her. “Hey, Jake, look at me.”

I do. All I see is her beautiful face and it’s painfully sobering.

“I can’t do this, Stacy. Ryan needs his mother. He needs Jenny. I’m screwing everything up.”

“You’re doing fine,” she croons, her voice steady and soft.

“God, I miss her,” I whisper.

“It’s okay to miss her,” Stacy says, squeezing my hand again to keep my attention.

I want nothing more than to ask her not to let go. Somehow, with her hand in mine I feel a little less alone. I didn’t realize how much I’ve been craving this kind of connection since I lost Jenny. But the pain in my chest instantly subsides each time Stacy squeezes my hand as she murmurs words of reassurance to me while I catch my breath.

Her other hand gently strokes my arm until I feel whole again.

As I feel my strength return, embarrassment heats my cheeks. Did I seriously just break down in front of a complete stranger?

Make that a beautiful stranger.

“Sorry about that,” I mutter, giving her my best smile as my hand finds my neck again.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Stacy says softly, her kind eyes drawing me in. “Does that happen often?” she asks, politely referring to my embarrassing breakdown.

I try to play it off. “Nah, I think I’m just a little overwhelmed lately. It’s nothing serious.”

“Actually, I think it is. You may have had a panic attack, Jake.”

She’s right, I know she is, but how am I supposed to admit that?

Dammit! Isn’t admitting you have a problem the first step to solving it or something like that? I sigh and slump against the wall again. “I need help, don’t I?”

Stacy grins at me and squeezes my hand again. “Yes, but don’t worry. I’m confident that we can come up with a plan that will help you and Ryan cope with the issues you’re dealing with.”

“Any chance there’s a cheat sheet of the parenting rule book I can borrow until we get this plan of yours sorted out?” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.

“I’m sorry to say there are no firm rules when it comes to parenting, Jake. There’s no playbook no matter how many guides you read. It’s something you have to develop from within, something that’s tailored from your relationship with Ryan.”

Stacy’s eyes flare with passion and confidence; she seems to know what she’s talking about. This is the type of woman who can help me save the sinking ship that Ryan and I are adrift in.

“Can you help me, Stacy?” I ask, shoulders sagging.

It’s the first time that I can remember being desperate enough to ask for help.

Before this, I always assumed I could figure this ‘dad thing’ out. I wish I could handle it, I wish I could make everything better for Ryan, but it’s time I face the harsh reality that I may not be the best person to raise him.

I blink at Stacy, trying to put a leash on my painful emotions. There’s something about this woman that makes me feel strangely exposed. I’m not sure I like the feeling. Her conviction cuts me to the core though and she makes me want to do better.

I stare at her, heart pounding with a mix of . . . hope? Terror?

I don’t even know.

All I do know is that I think she could be the one to help me figure out what’s best for Ryan. For starters, she’s actually listening to me, seeing me as a person instead of an NFL legend—instead of The Hartbreak Kid. It’s refreshing.

“Please,” I add when the woman draws in a breath and shakes her head. “Help a lost guy out. Help Ryan. I feel like you’re the only one who can. You’re the first person to make me feel like I have a fighting chance.”

Chapter 4

Stacy

Jake Eckhart stares into my soul with those pleading brown eyes of his that would make a nun weak in the knees.

It doesn’t help that he’s not only gorgeous, but he’s also clearly desperate for guidance. He’s every teacher’s fantasy—a single parent in need of help raising a child. What kind of person would I be if I declined to help two people who badly need it?

This is precisely what I went to school for, isn’t it? To make a real difference in the lives of those who need it most.

For a moment I look around, hastily seeking out Principal Walton’s ruddy cheeks, but he’s nowhere to be found. I know if he sees this high-profile parent talking to me, I’ll probably get canned on the spot. I know his warnings aren’t just empty threats. He could replace me without any difficulty whatsoever.

Just about every teacher in the state wants to be in my shoes and St. James Academy has a waiting list of applicants a mile long. That’s probably how I got hired in the first place, someone else not good enough for Principal Walton got the boot.

But even more than just wanting a job like this one, I want to help people, and if I turn my back on Jake and Ryan, I don’t think I’ll be able to look myself in the eye again.

Besides, I'm a smart girl and I’m good at what I do. I can probably figure out some way to help the Eckharts without putting my neck on the line. I can be understanding of the despairing situation Ryan is in without cutting him slack, and I can make sure he gets some extra attention in class.

I suck in a deep breath, trying to organize the hurricane of nerves whirling between my ears. It’s plainly obvious to me that I’m attracted to the devastatingly handsome man, but I need to control my racing pulse and put my desires aside.

“I can get you some resources,” I start to say, keeping my voice low just in case the principal walks around the corner, but Jake groans and shakes his head.

“How many books and pamphlets can there be for uncles who take in the children of their dead sister?” he asks, tone surprisingly bitter. His chin drops. “I don’t need resources, I need help, Stacy. I'm failing Jenny and I can’t seem to figure out how to make any of this better for Ryan.”

His arms fold over his chest, muscles flexing. He’s tense, wound-up like a rubber band about to snap.

“Okay, okay,” I answer softly before looking past Jake at Ryan, who’s still sitting on a nearby bench scribbling on a piece of paper and looking content enough while he waits for his uncle to stop chatting with his teacher.

I exhale as I make a split-second decision to go with my gut.

I discretely pull Jake back into a small alcove where I’d coaxed him through his panic attack earlier. At least here we won’t be in immediate sight of anyone looking to pry. But as he moves closer the space feels too small, intense heat from his perfectly toned body crowding me, making it impossible to think.

I clear my throat and try to focus. “Let’s start with your relationship with your nephew. How is it?”

“Good enough.” He shrugs, blank-faced. “We spend time together when we can but I'm so busy with practice. He’s a good kid though, even if he’s a bit rough around the edges. Reminds me a lot of myself, actually. I lost my parents young.”

I watch as he checks his watch discreetly. He’s probably running late for practice but I appreciate that he’s not trying to hurry this conversation along.

“Then you must know how difficult it is to be young and feel so alone and lost, Jake.”

“I do, but I only got through thanks to my sister pushing me into football. She and the sport kept me out of trouble. I just don’t know how to emulate her for Ryan. She was a one-of-a-kind sister and mother. She was amazing and so compassionate and giving. Me . . . I don’t know how to do that. I’ve always been selfish. Football helped me blow off steam and stay focused on positive things when I was a kid. It gave me hope and a light to follow when I felt like I was going to be swallowed by darkness.”

My head cocks. A stray wind billows over us, nipping my hair from the loose bun nestled at the base of my neck. I push the stray curl diligently back in place. “Well, you said sports helped you a lot. Have you considered getting Ryan into something like that? Is he athletic?”

With a miserable shake of his head, Jake’s massive arms slide from where they’re folded across his chest to hang heavily at his side. “He likes to run around a lot but he’s made it clear that he hates football.”

“Then maybe we don’t pursue football for Ryan. You know, there’s an after-school soccer club that meets twice a week on Tuesdays and Thursdays in Central Park. You could give that a try. There are lots of kids his age who he can meet while also having some focused fun. It’ll help him sleep better at night too.”

Jake pauses instantly, digging his hands into his pockets. He clears his throat, his cheeks glowing an ashamed red that makes his already handsome face look even more so. Butterflies abruptly flutter through my stomach, almost making me choke. I shake my head, trying to ignore the thoughts about how striking Jake’s brown eyes are and how his smile makes my heart beat faster. These feelings are inappropriate, especially while we’re discussing his nephew’s wellbeing.

“I . . . uh, to be honest, I forgot that there were other sports than football,” Jake stammers. “When Ryan said he wanted nothing to do with a pigskin I just . . . It didn't occur to me to get him to try something else athletic.”

His embarrassment humanizes the prestigious celebrity. I see him, Jake Eckhart. And it’s hard not to like what I see.

“Hey, it’s fine. You’re overwhelmed and suddenly a single dad out of nowhere.” I reach over, gently squeezing his arm, and bolts of electricity surge through my veins. The more I touch him the harder these feelings are to ignore. What’s wrong with me?

I snag my arm back, rubbing the tender skin and flushing pink. Fortunately, Jake seems distracted with his thoughts.

He gazes at me again quietly. “You make this sound so simple, like understanding Ryan is the easiest thing in the world.”

“I’ve just spent a lot more time around children. Believe me, he’s just as much a mystery to me as he is you, but my background is in understanding how to read the signs that he lays out.”

“Right.” Jake squeezes the back of his neck as he looks at his nephew. “You think soccer will help?”

“I do. And you’re in luck. Today is Tuesday. Practice starts in an hour. You should have plenty of time to get to the fields.”

Jake’s head tilts, his worried expression suddenly melting away to reveal an easy smile and a coy glint to his dark eyes. His chin lifts and it’s like he’s put on a mask. His sincerity has vanished, replaced by a polished grin.

I swear the rainclouds part to let the sun perfectly illuminate a smile that makes a shiver coil in my stomach.

“I think I mentioned my schedule before. It’s absolutely crazy,” he purrs. “I barely have time to pick up the little guy from school today. I have to rush back to practice. There’s no way I can get him to soccer on time.”

“Oh?” I ask slowly, sensing a request coming as Jake leans closer so that I can smell his cologne. He’s doing this on purpose, that’s obvious enough, and I'm sure it’s worked on a thousand girls before me.

I know guys his type.

Suddenly, I see him much more clearly. He grins again, the kind that makes my head spin even when I know what game he’s playing.

“I need you in my life, Stacy. Ryan needs you.” He waits for his words to sink in, rendering me powerless. “Can I hire you to take Ryan to practice for me?”

There it is. He’s completely missing the point.

The spell he’s had me under instantly dissolves, replaced by indignation.

“No, Jake. Ryan needs you. Not me, not any other nanny or woman or whatever you’re trying to do here. He needs to know that he has family to depend on, someone who will pick him up and drop him off and help him feel stability—” I cut myself off, abruptly remembering the principal’s warning.

I need to control myself around the school parents, especially ones with such notable reputations as Jake Eckhart.

Hopefully, he won’t go to the principal with what I’ve just said. Instead of carrying on with my tangent, I rearrange my face into something I hope is pleasant and sweeten my jagged tone. He hasn’t spoken yet, his flirtatious grin still curving his handsome mouth. He’s probably never had anyone say no to that gorgeous face of his before.

“Here’s what I can do, Jake. I’ll get you a list of well-vetted nannies who can help you out. These will be professionals who’ve helped a lot of families at St. James.”

Jake groans and shakes his head. “I’ve tried that, believe me. Just about every agency in the state knows about Ryan and me. The nannies just don’t last. They either want me or they don’t want Ryan.”

He digs his hands back into his pockets, his attempt at seducing me into carting Ryan around waning into nothing but gaunt devastation. He clenches his jaw, mind churning, a single vein popping in his temple.

Jake Eckhart is the utter definition of desperation.

Dammit! I'm not as immune to him as I’d like to think.

This look on his face right now melts my heart. I wish I’d been told of Ryan’s struggles before. Maybe I would have been able to do something right from the start instead of scrambling to pick up the pieces now. The blankness on Ryan’s small face makes so much more sense now, as does the half-finished homework and the sleeping in class.

What sort of home life do these two have? Do they have a bond strong enough to get them both through this?

They need massive help if Ryan is going to turn out to be anything but a heartbroken young man with no regard for authority.

I know I'm way overstepping the school’s policy about not dealing with the parents directly. This may be dangerous territory, but a teacher’s got to do what a teacher’s got to do.

I sigh, a sigh that comes straight from my toes and seems to ripple through my whole soul. “Okay…”

Jake’s eyes, suddenly hopeful, lock on me. “Okay?” he repeats.

“I’ll take Ryan to soccer, but only for this week so you can find something more permanent. Got it?”

A grateful grin lights his face as he nods, making his already handsome face even more so. My pulse skyrockets, thrumming between my ears.

Oh no. What have I gotten myself into?

If Jake Eckhart is anything, it’s trouble.

Chapter 5

Jake

Warm sun pierces the gray haze overhead as my cherry red sports car glides over Central Park gravel.

It’s already way past four. Ryan’s soccer practice is in full swing, but I'm sure he understands why I'm a little late. He may only be six, but he’s mature. And besides, that’s the whole reason I had Stacy take him to the field anyway.

For a moment I sit in my car, shooting off a few texts to my teammates and Coach about our practice, and then I climb out of my vehicle and shield sun off my eyes.

The grass is soft and damp as I make my way over to the field where a flock of children mill about munching on orange slices and swallowing big gulps of water. I find Stacy and Ryan soon enough. They’re together, Stacy holding Ryan’s water bottle in her hands as she crouches in front of him. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but I can see a faint grin on the kid’s face.

He smiles a lot, but this is the first time in a while I’ve seen him grin wide enough to make the corners of his eyes crinkle.

Stacy stands up and says something else before pointing at the field. When Ryan turns to rush over to where the kids are grouping, she ruffles his hair without a thought. She doesn’t see the beaming look on his face as he’s running back, but I do. She can’t possibly know what her simple affectionate gesture means to Ryan or how much I’ve been dying to see that expression on his tiny face again.

Jenny used to ruffle Ryan’s hair like that. Watching Stacy do it makes my chest feel so tight I can barely pull in a breath. I stop, staring up at the clouds as I try to quell the emotions that are too big to fit inside me.

Not again.

It’s becoming quite clear that Stacy is right. This is the second time I’ve lost it today. Clearly, I’m not coping with my sister’s loss very well. I wish I could say these overwhelming feelings of soul-crushing grief are rare, isolated occurrences, but they’re not. So many things make me think of Jenny—stopping me dead in my tracks.

I often wonder if it’s a sign, if she’s reaching out to us, or if that’s just wishful thinking.

I finally catch my breath and find Ryan on the field again. He’s grinning from ear-to-ear. After Jenny’s death last year, I didn't think it was possible for either of us to smile like that again.

Stacy stands slightly smaller than the other parents she’s near, her curves luscious and her hair falling in a dark chocolate curtain of unruly curls that makes my fingers twitch with the desire to run my hands through those locks.

She’s just my type, as Jenny would say, with that knowing gleam to her eyes. My sister was always quick to point out women she thought I would vibe with. Not any of the Hartbreakers, who are looking for a one-way ticket to fame and fortune, but women who are confident in themselves and who could be a strong partner for me.

To be honest, I mostly waved away the suggestions of my sister, choosing to pursue whatever girl was wearing the tiniest shorts on gameday.

I was looking for a one-night stand, not the one.

But I know things need to change.

“Hey,” I mumble, unusually shy as I take my place beside Stacy.

Stacy jumps and then glances at me with a faint smile.

“Hey, yourself,” she answers.

I stuff my hands in my pockets, not sure what to say to this gorgeous, intimidating woman. It’s mildly ridiculous considering she’s so tiny. The woman is five foot nothing, but her confidence towers over me.

I can’t help but feel like Jenny’s watching from somewhere amongst the gray clouds and laughing to herself.

Not sure what to say, I train my eyes on Ryan and the kids on the field. The other parents haven’t noticed me yet, too absorbed in shouting commands from the sideline to their children.

Stacy’s voice calls my attention back to her. “Did you get a chance to look at the phone numbers I texted you? I really think you have a shot with those nannies. They’re the best in the business.”

“Not yet,” I answer simply, despite the fact that I don’t intend to ever look at them.

The woman in front of me is the only one who comes close to the image of the perfect nanny that I have in my head for Ryan. I just have to figure out some way of convincing her to take the job.

A strange nervousness bubbles in my stomach as I stand side-by-side with the petite, brunette teacher. This feels weird. Like a date, almost. And that’s definitely not something that typically makes me feel nervous.

I'm The Hartbreak Kid! I don’t get nervous around women.

I’ve dated so many ‘it’ girls, from other athletes to celebs to models. Women line up for hours just for a chance to meet me, and I’ve never had the faintest hint of a flutter in my stomach. So what’s going on with me right now?

Maybe it’s more than panic attacks. Maybe this unbearable pressure has finally broken me. Or maybe it’s just that Stacy is so wildly different from the other women I regularly interact with. Either way, I can’t think of a clever thing to say to her to save my life.

Great, my game is dead.

“So how was football?” Stacy asks after the silence lingers on a bit too long.

“Good,” I answer, fighting against my unusual shyness. This should be where I lay on the charm and try to seduce Stacy back into my bed after Ryan goes to sleep, but it’s like my mind isn’t working right, like I'm wading through sludge and slime instead of the usual smoothness with which I approach women I'm interested in.

“That’s good,” Stacy answers breezily, not perturbed by my stiff candor in the slightest. “Did you, like, punt the ball to the hiker or something?”

One of my eyebrows twitches in amusement. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, do you?”

She laughs, a sound sweeter than any melody I’ve ever heard. “You got me. I’m not really into sports.”

I let the insulting comment slide because her dimples are doing something disturbing to my knees. I clear my throat. “How was Ryan for you this afternoon?”

“Oh, he was a dream. He got his homework done while we were passing time before practice. I told him he couldn’t play unless he finished.”

“He was excited about trying out soccer then?”

Stacy looks up at me and grins, her white teeth glimmering in the sunlight that’s banishing any hint of the earlier rain. “Super excited.”

My heart feels warm, both because this beautiful woman is smiling at me and because I feel like finally I'm doing something right for Ryan.

“I'm glad you told me about this, Stacy. I hope it makes a difference for him. When I started playing football, it changed my whole outlook on life.”

“It’ll help him too,” she answers gently. “Just give him time. Especially if you try to keep making it to his practices.” She adds with the least subtle side-eye I’ve ever experienced.

“I want to. My sister always came to my home games, every single one.” My heart drops as that familiar loneliness creeps in. “I still have her chair reserved like she’s going to use it someday.”

Even now, while fans are cheering my name and women are pulling me in a thousand different directions and I'm forcing a smile, I still look toward those seats like Jenny is going to be perched there, beaming and wearing my jersey.

Stacy pins me with those comforting hazel eyes. “She raised you after your parents passed?”

I nod. “Jenny was barely more than a kid herself when she took on the role, but our parents weren’t really part of the picture even when they were alive. I owe Jenny so much. Everything, actually. Without her guidance, I would’ve wound up in trouble. I didn’t exactly run with a good crowd.”

Stacy puts a hand gently on my arm. “She’s still here. Jenny may not be in that stadium seat anymore, but she hasn’t stopped looking out for you and Ryan. She’ll show you she’s here in her own little ways. A sun shower when you need it most or a cool breeze or a lucky penny.”

God. Jenny would’ve loved Stacy.

I smile at her, choking up at her words, and then pretend the sun is the reason I’m squinting so hard that I have to look away for a moment.

* * *

I’m quiet the rest of the game while Stacy cheers for Ryan and claps her hands together as the little boy kicks the ball as hard as he can. The ball doesn’t go anywhere near the goal, but he seems proud of his efforts anyway, so I join in the cheering. It stings to know that Jenny is missing all of this.

My heart throbs in my chest but I bite back a grunt of pain. Ryan is looking and I don’t want him to see how badly I'm missing his mother.

He’s smiling so much, his little brow sweaty and his eyes dancing. I know exactly how he’s feeling, this is just how my first couple of football practices went.

“I don’t think I’ll ever measure up to Jenny,” I say abruptly, startled by my stark honesty.

Something about Stacy makes me want to be real and I’m not sure if I like it. I’m used to playing the role of The Hartbreak Kid, deflecting personal questions with a joke or something.

“You’re here,” Stacy answers. “Even the tiniest step in the right direction is powerful.”

My head, having dropped toward my chest, swivels to her. She smiles up at me, but as our eyes lock, the smile slowly fades.

We stand there, gazing into one another’s eyes, the cheers and the shouts of the parents forgotten, the sun’s heat on our heads warming me through.

This woman is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Even with all those Hartbreakers grabbing my jersey after my games, begging me to take them home, nothing compares to the feeling I have standing next to Stacy. She stands out above the rest—and I have an unquenchable desire to find out why.

Her mouth is slightly open, lips pink and supple and so kissable I can almost taste them. I bet she tastes just like strawberries, sweet and plump and ripe.

I wish I knew what she was thinking. I can’t even begin to tell. Her eyes churn but she doesn’t say anything, she only slowly drifts toward me, our faces moving closer and closer like magnets are pulling our lips together.

Is she dreaming about how I taste right now, too?

“Stacy,” I whisper, inhaling the scent of her perfume. My body turns toward her so that I can face her more fully.

She’s so flipping short there’s no way her lips can meet mine unless I scoop her into my arms—an enticing thought that’s running through my mind on a loop.

My heart is beating like a jackhammer against my ribs as I make the decision to act on my desires. But before I can pull Stacy into my arms, another arm suddenly loops around mine and jerks me away. With a startled yelp, I've whirled around so my back is to the brunette teacher. It happened so fast I think I have whiplash.

“Jake Eckhart!” squeals a blonde woman with sunglasses. “I knew it was you!” She rips off her sweater to reveal a Hartbreaker shirt. “You have to sign this for me!” she screams, gesturing to a spot just above her breasts despite the fact that her husband is right beside her.

I cast a desperate look over at Stacy, who’s turned her attention back to Ryan though her jaw is clenched slightly tighter.

Even though I want to pull away from the fanatical woman and wrap my arms around Stacy, I allow myself to get dragged further and further away into the swarm of gathering fans.

Chapter 6

Stacy

I sink into the pink folding lawn chair I lugged along to Ryan’s next soccer practice, glancing at my watch one more time when I think the six-year-old isn’t looking.

Ryan’s Thursday practice only has about thirty minutes left in it and Jake still hasn’t shown up. I keep glancing toward the row of cars in the lot expecting to see his ridiculously flashy BMW. I’d been hoping the football star would show a little more initiative in taking his nephew to his soccer practices, but so far, I’ve been just as let down as Ryan.

Then again, maybe my expectations are a tad too high. It’s only been a few days since Ryan’s first practice on Tuesday. Maybe Jake just needs more time to rearrange his schedule.

I don’t want to become his crutch, but how am I supposed to say no after the talk we had regarding Jake’s sister and how hard he’s striving to do the best he can for Ryan in her memory?

Jake bared his soul to me, revealing that there’s an actual human being under that flashy football façade. It doesn’t help that that smile of his is dangerous . . . and he knows it.

He’s an endorsement’s dream. Since I met the football star, I’ve been noticing Jake’s face everywhere. His smile lights up cereal boxes and football advertisements all over the world.

He’s on my mind more than he should be, but it’s impossible not to think of him when I see his face on the buses that roll around the city every day.

I’ve been trying not to see him as a celebrity or a famous athlete, but it’s a little more difficult now that I have shirtless photos of him clogging up my brain.

So, I Googled him . . . I’m only human.

Someone jostles my lawn chair, almost toppling it over. I frown up at the person, expecting some sort of apology, but the woman doesn’t even seem to notice me. She opens up a compact, applying yet another layer of bright red gloss.

I roll my eyes and shift my chair over.

This practice seems more crowded than the last one, though the number of children on the field has stayed the same. It’s weird, but maybe some of the kids just have extra family in town or there could be another event going on somewhere nearby in the park.

I try to push the crowd from my mind and focus on Ryan. Like me, I catch him occasionally looking toward the parking lot in the hopes of spotting his uncle. When I catch Ryan looking dismayed, I try to cheer extra loud for him to keep his mind on the game. I can tell by his increasingly sour expression that he’s not happy that Jake is so late.

All he wants is to feel seen by his uncle, and Jake is dropping the ball.

Even though I know Jake is doing the best he can, it’s different from the perspective of children, especially a child trying to heal from such a devastating loss. It doesn’t help that Jake is still trying to heal from the loss as well. I really think he needs to seek out some professional help in the form of a grief counselor. But I’m already overstepping by taking Ryan to soccer after school. How much more should I really involve myself?

The bottom line is my heart hurts for both of them.

When I got home after the last soccer practice, I settled down in front of my computer to look up exactly who Jacob Eckhart was. The results that flooded page after page astounded me. Not only is he a talented, celebrated NFL tight end—but he’s also quite the business mogul. He’s invested in numerous sports brands in the biz, creating a bank account equal to Chloe’s billionaire boyfriend.

Jake’s a smart guy. He’s created a financial portfolio that will support him long after his career as a lustrous football player ends. It’s pretty impressive and shows a forethought I wouldn’t have expected from Jake. He even donates to charities.

Apparently, he’s not your average athlete.

But I already know that thanks to the almost nude photo of him I glimpsed on an old cover of Sports Illustrated. 6’6’, 268 pounds, with bronze muscles for days . . . there’s absolutely nothing average about the tight end.

To be honest, I’d never heard of a tight end before, but after watching Jake walk away last practice, a title has never been more fitting.

I can only imagine how good his ‘tight end’ looks in uniform.

My cheeks burn as I try to pull my stubborn mind out of the gutter.

Lock it up, Stacy. You’re watching kids play soccer for heaven’s sake!

I manage to focus on the game for a while, but inevitably, my mind drifts back to Jake. It’s remarkable to me that even though he has obviously deep pockets and a huge reputation in the athletic world, he’s actually pretty down to earth, or at least that seems to be the case whenever we’re talking one-on-one.

But I’ve seen the way his expression changes when he’s pulled away by his football groupies. He instantly becomes that smooth-talking, slick Hartbreak Kid with a golden tongue. Jake knew just how to use it too, making the ladies practically swoon after him.

I imagine it’s a lot of pressure to live up to a reputation like his, especially when Jake has Ryan depending on him now.

No wonder he seems to be floundering juggling his new parenting role. That’s why it’s so important to have parent-teacher conferences. If Principal Walton let the teachers create personal relationships with the parents, I would have known what was going on in Ryan’s home.

Navigating the social hierarchy is part of what makes working in the prestigious prep school system so difficult, but I just have to keep striving to be the best teacher I can be—even if that means breaking the rules sometimes.

The morning after the first soccer practice I took Ryan to, I sat at my desk biting my nails and waiting for the principal to storm in and chastise me. But so far I’ve been lucky. He must not have caught wind of me helping out Jake after school, or else he would’ve said something about it. No harm, no foul. And besides, this is the last soccer practice I’ll have to pinch hit for.

When I hear the squeal of tires, I look over to find Jake climbing out of his car. He’s sweaty and wearing a blue, dirt-stained jersey with white numbers across his broad chest. His hair is plastered to his forehead as he shields the sun off his cheeks.

Like a tsunami, half the people who’ve been loitering around the children’s playing field surge toward him. They all seem to pull cameras out of nowhere, calling his name, flashes popping in his face until he’s almost tripping in surprise.

Paparazzi.

It’s my first time seeing them in the real world and not on the television screen. Between the paparazzi and the fans screeching Jake’s name, all attention has been stolen away from the kids on the field. I force myself to turn back toward them, finding Ryan standing on the outskirts of the soccer field.

While the other children regroup to continue playing their game, Ryan simply stares at the spot where Jake has been swallowed whole by the cluster of adoring fans and paparazzi looking to make a few bucks off a candid shot of Jake in his practice jersey.

To their credit, that practice jersey does suit Jake undeniably well, clinging to his bulging muscles and showing off the strength of his body. It’s enough to make a girl’s head spin. But I tamp down on my desires, refocus on the game and call out for Ryan, clapping my hands.

The child doesn’t seem to hear me, his fingers crumpling into fists.

He looks one way and then the other, then bends down to scoop up two huge handfuls of grass and dirt. Before I can react, he’s hurled the clumps of sod at an unlucky child who’s kicking the ball too close to him. The dirt flies into the unsuspecting kid’s eyes and he collapses with a dramatic wail while Ryan stares pointedly back at Jake, clearly hoping that the commotion will get his attention.

Unfortunately, it only earns Ryan a strict scolding from the coach, and an order to take a seat on the sideline.

Ryan collapses on the edge of the field, arms and legs folded, his tiny chin tucked to his chest. I walk over to him, ruffling his hair, but he pushes my hand away and refuses to look at me. I know all he wants is Jake. No. Actually, all Ryan wants is his mom back.

It’s heartbreaking.

“You know that wasn’t nice, right?” I ask gently.

Ryan bites his lip and still refuses to speak. I know it’s not my place to parent him, so I don’t press the issue further. Instead, I settle down beside him so that Ryan knows he’s not alone and that I won’t abandon him just because he’s acting out.

I tell myself that I'm doing this because I'm his teacher and I want our relationship to have some necessary trust, but in all honesty, it’s because all I want is to make him smile again. This poor kid has seen so much sadness in his short life. He deserves a break.

I want to help Ryan and Jake find a balance in their lives so that uncle and nephew each have fulfillment in their lives as well as a deep bond, but that’s going to be hard with a public career like Jake’s demanding so much of his time.

Jake has no firm line between when he’s working and when he’s not. I get it. If he doesn’t entertain the media and the people vying for his attention, they could turn on him and ruin his reputation as a fan favorite, but Ryan needs Jake more than the little boy can ever say.

As Ryan and I watch the ball get kicked around the field, Jake finally makes his way to us. Ryan’s mood visibly lightens the second the football star approaches.

“Hey, kiddo!” Jake calls. “Why are you sitting over here?”

I say nothing, watching their interaction. Ryan catches my eye, having expected me to tell on him right away. He shrugs and bites his lip, probably contemplating lying, but that’s impossible with me sitting here.

“I got into a fight with someone,” the boy finally says.

“Oh, that’s not cool, little man! You’ll get kicked out of games for that when you make it pro,” Jake answers with a laugh.

Ryan smirks and nods while Jake calls over to the coach. “You mind if he joins in for the last drill? He’ll be on his best behavior.”

The coach nods and agrees, gesturing Ryan over. Ryan darts onto the field, looking back every now and then to make sure that Jake is paying attention.

Jake lowers his voice, leaning over to me. “Listen, Stacy, I know this is last minute but is there any way you can keep taking Ryan to practice for another week? I tried some of those agencies you directed me to but no one is available yet.”

I want to say no, but I can hardly leave Ryan and Jake to their own devices. They still need help. And how would Ryan get to practice if not for me?

I groan and try not to roll my eyes. “Alright. But only another week. Got it?” I say firmly.

Jake grins and nods. “Got it.”

I whimper internally as the gorgeous man takes up the spot next to me. I can’t help but admire how sexy he looks in this practice jersey. I’ve never been the sort to fawn over athletes. I’ve always been more attracted to the academic types, but I have to admit, as I stare at Jake’s delicious muscles, I’m starting to see the appeal.

I shake my head, reminding myself to focus. It’s not like a famous football star would ever be attracted to me anyway. I’m just a teacher.

We stand there for a moment, watching Ryan play, and even as Jake’s shadow dwarfs me, I feel warm. Electricity pulses through my veins, making every hair on my body stand on edge.

This isn’t good. I’ve got to put some boundaries between me and Jake. I wanted to pretend I’d imagined the magnetic surge of attraction I felt toward him at the last soccer practice. But today is proof that it’s all too real.

The air feels like it’s crackling with electricity just standing near him. And I know it’s insane, but there was this moment at the last practice where I thought Jake might kiss me. And I wanted him to!

I realize I still want him to and it makes my chest feel fizzy.

Oh God, this is mortifying! I’m a fangirl!

But those eyes of his, and those lips, they’re a sucker punch right to the heart. I just can’t help myself.

“I, um, have to grade papers tonight,” I suddenly stammer out, knowing my best option is to remove myself from temptation. “You can take this from here, can’t you?”

“Sure,” Jake answers before cupping his mouth and calling toward Ryan. “Tell Miss Davis goodbye, kid.”

“Bye Miss Davis!” Ryan calls dutifully, barely looking at me as he beams up at his uncle.

Does Jake see how much Ryan cherishes him?

I can only hope so.

I wave and start to head to my car but Jake catches my wrist and tugs me back. The skin where he’s gently grasping me burns, making my throat tighten.

“I just wanted to say thank you, Stacy. On behalf of Ryan, too. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

“You’re welcome,” I whisper breathlessly, turning and running from him before he can see how red my cheeks are.

Head swimming, I press through the lines of fans and paparazzi that are being made to wait on the outskirts of the field by the park security that finally showed up.

* * *

When I arrive at my apartment, to my surprise, the lights are all on when I walk inside.

“Stacy!” Morgan cries, pulling me into a hug.

“Hey! I didn’t know you were coming home today!”

“Surprise!”

We haven’t seen one another in weeks with how often she and Eric are traveling for their jobs. We still talk on the phone all the time though. I fill her in on my boring life and she tells me about the amazing modeling jobs she’s been on in the Bahamas and California while Eric is rocking packed stadiums.

The rockstar himself is nearby, his feet on the coffee table as he plays on his phone.

“What’s up,” he says distractedly.

“Nothing much,” I shrug, grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge and sinking down beside Eric before playfully swatting his feet off the table.

“Nothing much?” Morgan gapes. “Nothing much? No way, girl. You’re not getting off that easily. Tell me how your date with Mr. Football was!”

“It wasn’t a date, Morgan,” I answer with a roll of my eyes. “I take his nephew to soccer practice. And this was only the second time.”

“Oh, that’s right. You gotta keep it hush hush.” Morgan winks. “He has a reputation to protect.”

“Who’s the mystery man?” Eric asks, newly intrigued by the girly gossip.

Morgan answers before I can even start to form a sentence. “Stacy’s been seeing Jake Eckhart! Can you believe it? Our studious little Stacy is dating an NFL legend!”

Eric whistles. “Eckhart? Damn. He’s a touchdown king. That guy singlehandedly won me my fantasy football league last season. He was my first-round pick. Donovan thought I was crazy for drafting a tight end that early.” Eric cackles, reliving the thrill of defeating his best friend in fantasy football.

“We’re not dating,” I correct firmly with a roll of my eyes. “But I’ll be sure to pass on your man-crush.”

Morgan arches an eyebrow. “So you’re not dating but you’re seeing him again?”

“I'm just helping him with his nephew,” I insist, though heat begins to creep up my neck. “Jake’s a busy guy, so I take Ryan to his soccer practices. He’s my student. I'm obligated to help out.”

A furrow of concern creates a small canyon in Morgan’s unblemished brow. As if they can read one another’s minds, both she and Eric exchange a glance that only lasts for a second but feels as though an entire conversation occurred in that short time.

I hate it when they look at each other like that, but that’s only because I’m envious. I want to be on that level with someone someday.

Both Morgan and our old roommate Chloe are so in love.

When will it be my turn?

“Just, uh, be careful. Okay, Stacy?” Eric finally says, Morgan nodding along.

“Why?” I ask, taking a slow sip of my water.

“Eckhart’s got a reputation as a player.” Eric leans forward and pats my arm. “He’s not called The Hartbreak Kid for nothing.”

Chapter 7

Jake

I thought I was prepared to handle the rest of soccer practice on my own since Stacy had to leave. After all, how hard could it be to cheer Ryan’s name and remember to clap every now and then?

Everything went smoothly for the remainder of Ryan’s practice, up until the point when he and I were starting to leave.

We were walking side-by-side, making jokes about how another one of the kids had accidentally kicked the ball into the wrong goal, when a torrent of cameras came flooding toward us. The paparazzi and fans who had been restrained on the sidelines were let loose. They ran forward, practically barreling over the other children and families in their hurry to snap pictures of me.

“Jake! Jake!” they call out, each one dragging my attention in a different direction.

I feel like I’m watching a tennis match, but the ball never lands in one place long enough for me to focus on it. I try to smile at all the cameras, but Ryan’s tugging on my hand between each of the reporter’s catcalls, desperately trying to get me to listen to his story about some cartoon that he and Stacy had been discussing.

“One sec, Ryan,” I whisper, waving at the fans and paparazzi.

I have to keep these ravenous admirers appeased. They’re the foundation of my career, even more so than my talent on the playing field. If they aren’t supporting me, I won’t get the paycheck or the sponsors that I do.

“Jake!” Ryan cries again, yanking so hard on the sleeve of my practice jersey that the fabric almost rips.

“What was that for?” I yell, startled at the kid’s sudden temper.

He scowls up at me, gripping his soccer ball hard before hurling it onto the ground and then kicking my shin. “You never pay attention to me!” he shouts. “You’re always too caught up in other people! You’re a bad uncle! I hate you!”

Then he turns and runs away, though he has no choice but to head for my waiting sports car.

Ryan reaches the passenger door and sits down on the ground, circling his knees with his arms.

I'm suddenly hyper-aware of all the eyes and cameras on me, taking in what just happened. I gulp and stare at the reporters and fans whose expressions are a mixed bag of horror and disappointment.

Great. Of course this had to happen in front of everyone.

I scoop up his soccer ball and rush after Ryan, not saying anything aside from ordering him sternly into the backseat of the vehicle. Waiting until he buckles himself in, I careen out of the parking lot and back toward our penthouse.

I have no idea if I should yell at Ryan for kicking me. Should we hug it out? Or should I just pretend it didn't happen? I keep looking at him in the rearview mirror, but he’s ignoring me.

Stacy would know what to do.

I’ll give her a call as soon as I get home and have a chance to step away from my nephew. Hopefully he just needs a few minutes to breathe and calm down.

He’s staring out the window, his arms crossed over his little chest that rises and falls in infuriated pants. When he catches me watching him in the mirror, he gives a grunt of disgust and inspects his flaring nostrils in the window’s reflection.

We are definitely fighting.

It’s the first real argument between us that I can remember. I hate this feeling, like I’ve disappointed him and hurt his feelings all at once. I know why he’s acting out, he’s mad that I was paying attention to the cameras and not him.

But what can I do to make him understand that’s my job?

“When we get home, we can watch a movie and chill out for a bit. Does that sound good?” I offer uncertainly, knowing that Stacy would probably have some comment about how I'm sweeping Ryan’s temper tantrum under the rug, but right now I just want the poor kid to calm down.

His stiff body relaxes a little and though he doesn’t say anything, I sweeten the deal with some popcorn and he almost cracks a smile.

“Okay,” Ryan agrees, and after a few minutes he’s even cooled off enough to sing to whatever pop song is playing on the radio.

Phew. Crisis averted.

When we arrive back at the apartment, I instruct him to get the movie rolling while I make the popcorn. I listen as he flicks through channels on the living room television.

“Uncle Jake!” he says suddenly, giving a little gasp. “We’re on TV! And so are all my friends from soccer!”

Oh, hell no!

“Turn it off, Ryan!” I call out. God only knows what those people will say.

Forgetting the popcorn in the microwave, I rush into the living room just in time to see some entertainment channel anchors watching the video of Ryan kicking me and shaking their heads.

On a loop behind them, they replay the moment my nephew told me what a terrible uncle I am over and over. Ryan initially thinks it’s funny, but his faint giggles fade quickly as the reporters rip into our personal lives.

“You know that poor boy lost his mother last year,” the heartless anchor announces. “And now he’s stuck with The Hartbreak Kid as a guardian? I can’t imagine Jake Eckhart is ready for that role. I mean look at how they interact. Jake is not meant to be a parent.”

“His sister must be rolling in her grave,” another says.

“Maybe they’ll take the boy away from him.”

“Serves him right.”

The anchors continue their judgmental banter while Ryan and I stare at the television screen. Their voices meld into a chorus of ridicule that pours rage through me so suddenly I can no longer hear anything above the pounding of my heart.

Somehow, I remember I can move, and I wrench the remote from Ryan and turn off the television, but his expression has crumpled. His hands are limp at his sides, tears streaking his face.

“Ryan, they don’t know what they’re talking about,” I whisper, trying to pull him into my arms for a hug, but he wriggles free and rushes to his bedroom, slamming the door.

I stare after him, my entire heart hurting.

This is not good. Not good at all.

I can’t even imagine how Ryan must be feeling right now. I know how I feel . . . I want to punch something.

What the hell do I do?

Do I talk to him? Do I give him space?

I walk over to his door, slumping against it. I open my mouth to tell him I love him, but when I hear small sniffles coming from inside the room, I clamp my lips together as my heart caves in. I wish to God I knew how to fix this, but I’m so damn afraid of saying the wrong thing and making things worse. Look at the mess I already caused.

I close my eyes and slide to the floor.

I'm sorry, Ryan.

I'm sorry, Jenny.

Numbly, I fumble my phone out of my pocket, navigating to the last texts Stacy sent, the ones with more nanny information. I ignore those messages, about to call her when the doorbell rings.

I shoot to my feet and stumble over to my door, hoping that somehow Stacy knew I needed her and miraculously showed up. She has such a nurturing presence, one that calms not only me but Ryan as well. When she’s around, I feel less lost when it comes to parenting. I feel like I can actually accomplish things.

When I open the door, however, it’s not the petite brunette teacher, but my quarterback, Brenton.

“Hey, man!” he says with a laugh and a shake of his head. He has a case of beer tucked under his arm, the bottles clinking together. “The news reports running about you today are something vicious. Thought you might need a little pick me up.”

I shake my head but Brenton just winks and rips a beer free and passes it over.

“Believe me, this will help,” he says. “Besides, it’s been way too long since we partied. I’ve been missing you at the clubs. Have a drink with me, man.”

Even though I'm not in the mood for a beer, I don’t want to say no to him. I haven’t hung out with any of my teammates in forever. I was always the life of the party before taking Ryan under my wing. It’s been an adjustment for all of us.

Before I know it, we’re sitting on the couch together and I'm three drinks in when the doorbell rings again. A few of our other teammates flood in, each one with a date who invites more and more people. Brenton hands me another beer.

What could it hurt? It is starting to take the edge off.

A few more drinks in and suddenly my penthouse is crammed with bodies—only a quarter of which I actually know. Ryan is still locked in his bedroom, and I have a steady buzz.

I stand up, intending on telling everyone to get out of my home, but the room sways. My eyes meet the photo of Jenny on the wall. Guilt stabs me in the gut as I meet her familiar brown eyes.

I’ve messed up big time.

This has gotten completely out of hand.

But what do I do?

I’ve always been the partier of the team and these aren’t just my teammates, there are fans here too. If I make the wrong call, it might tarnish my reputation, which is half the battle in the professional career of an athlete.

I'm stuck between the person I have to be for my career and the person Ryan needs me to be.

How can I be both at once?

A lamp suddenly crashes, exploding on the floor in front of Ryan’s bedroom where Brenton has a woman pressed against the wall, his hands all over her, his mouth on her neck. In the heat of the moment, they almost knock down the portrait of Jenny.

That’s it. Enough is enough!

“Out!” I shout, losing my temper. “Everyone, get out! The party’s over!”

I follow them, still shouting at the stumbling herd of drunkards to get out when I see the front of my apartment building on the television. Some vulture is streaming a live feed of the people exiting my home. The ticker scrolling across the bottom of my screen reads: Broken homes and broken promises. The Hartbreak Kid, breaks the heart of deceased sister’s kid.

I can already see the stories that are going to spread like wildfire. I’m going to be labeled a perpetual partier who can’t get my act together for my nephew.

I click off the television and fall to my knees, burying my head in my hands.

Maybe they’re right. Maybe I'm not cut out for this.

No matter how hard I try, I just can’t seem to do anything right.

Chapter 8

Stacy

I stroke a distracted thumb over a stain on my favorite pair of cozy pajama bottoms. They have green and red apples printed on them and I’ve had them since my undergrad days. They’re still my favorite pair even though I’ve stained them with pizza sauce and red wine.

I’m eating pizza now, so it seems fruitless to worry about the stain when I’ll probably add another. I shrug and abandon the stain, choosing to take another buttery, garlicky bite of the pepperoni pizza I’ve ordered for myself. It’s delicious, and just what I need to get through another grading session of my students’ math homework.

The problems are easy but the handwriting is hard to understand and my brain feels like it’s ten thousand miles away.

The apartment is quiet tonight, the only sound coming from the neighbor’s adjoining unit. Morgan and Eric went out for a lavish date night. I’m not sure if I’ll even see them before their next big adventure. Eric can afford a date night in Paris now, and this wouldn’t be the first time he whisked Morgan away on a private flight to somewhere elegant.

Jealousy again gnaws at me, but I refuse to let it bring me down. Instead, I lament that I should have gotten fried mozzarella sticks with my pizza and maybe some garlic knots.

I groan at my own lack of resolve. Carbs are my kryptonite.

I don’t mind being alone, but I do miss the company of having someone to share these quiet moments with. As good as this pizza is, it can’t cure loneliness.

It seems like just yesterday both of my best friends were here every night and we were all laughing and talking together.

Now they have their own lives, which is beautiful‚ but when will I have that too?

They’ve both found men that complete them in perfect ways so that they bring out each other’s inner strengths. Every time I see Chloe with Donovan, and Eric with Morgan, they each look so blissfully happy. I'm sure not every second is paradise but having someone to lean on when life gets rough must be so comforting.

I push away the stack of papers, losing interest, and scoop up the pizza box.

I almost don’t know why I even bother grading my students’ homework. Principal Walton insists that I'm not allowed to give a letter grade below a ‘C’ in case it infuriates one of the parents who might withdrawl their child and their tuition checks.

But still, I go over every single word and problem that my students turn in so that I know exactly what they’re struggling with and what they’re excelling at. I won’t let the principal totally smother me. I can’t. Even under his watchful eye, I still have to keep some sort of dignity in my job.

Easing down onto the corner of the couch, I flick on the television just so that there’s some sort of noise in the apartment. Maybe if I don’t feel so lonely, I’ll be able to concentrate on my work.

I wish it was only loneliness which distracted me now, but it’s not entirely that.

It’s also that every time I blink, I see Jake’s beautiful brown eyes against the backs of my eyelids. I swear I can almost smell his cologne even though all I should be smelling is the tomato sauce from the pizza I’m devouring. Speaking of, I need some wine to wash this down.

When I stand up to head to the kitchen, the commercials end and the familiar name echoing from the speakers makes me spin curiously back around to face the television.

“We’re back with the story on NFL tight end, Jacob Eckhart,” a woman says from where she’s stiffly perched in a chair. She stares somberly at the camera as though she was reporting a death, and for a second my heart drops into my stomach like a lead weight. “As you can see from the pictures about to be shown, he has yet again returned to his wild partying ways despite the fact that his six-year-old nephew is now in his care. Even more disturbing is the multiple reports that say young Ryan Eckhart was in the apartment during tonight’s riotous event. This is a level of debauchery that, unfortunately, is not surprising of someone labeled, The Hartbreak Kid.”

Numb, I sink down onto the couch and watch the photos of a crazy party scroll across the screen. Unless Jake’s hair has grown two inches since I last saw him, the footage is old, but the reporter doesn’t mention that.

The footage changes to the outside of a fancy skyrise apartment Uptown. A string of athletes and model-types shield their faces as they stumble out of the building into waiting limos. The time and date stamps is just hours ago.

The woman continued speaking. “This party occurred mere hours after Eckhart had an altercation with his nephew in front of multiple people at a soccer field in Central Park in which the child was observed shouting that Eckhart was not a fit guardian.”

The woman continues but her words don’t register anymore, as a video of Jake and Ryan yelling at each other flood the screen. Desperate to get away from the sight, I grab the remote, shaking, and change the channel. However, channel after channel that I click through is playing the same story. They probably have been for hours.

Ryan and Jake had a fight?

It must’ve happened right after I left.

Their already fragile relationship was probably under an even worse amount of pressure now. I grab my phone off the table, but the screen is blank. He hasn't tried to contact me to let me know that something happened.

Maybe he was too busy hosting his huge wild party, I think bitterly.

I swallow hard, staring back at the television.

“There are reports that most of Eckhart’s NFL team was in attendance at his penthouse this evening and that there was lewd behavior and sexual acts during the party,” the woman is saying.

Lewd behavior? Sex?

Is Jake hooking up with other women?

I have no right to be suddenly jealous, but sick envy fills me so fast that I almost feel nauseous. Eric’s words ring in the back of my mind. The Hartbreak Kid . . . A player.

Eric tried to warn me, but I’d been so sure that I’d seen good in Jake’s eyes. I know he loves his nephew . . . but maybe he just loves being a partying philanderer more?

Eric was right, but I’d been so quick to dismiss his concerns because I'm usually good at reading peoples’ characters, but perhaps I’m wrong this time. Judging by the photos, I definitely am.

Was that why Jake was so insistent on me looking after Ryan? So he could plan wild parties like this one?

I'm disgusted that I allowed myself to be played in such a way. The way Jake spoke so genuinely about his sister and wanting to be a better man, and the way he looked into my eyes . . . It was as though he respected me and was trying to be sincere.

I know it’s ridiculous, but I really thought that he and I were building toward . . . something.

Something that could’ve been real.

When our hands brushed, my heart raced and my pulse quickened and my entire body felt warm and fuzzy, like a summer day. I’d never felt like that with anyone before. Of course it would happen with a man trying to take advantage of me.

I snap the television off, muttering angrily under my breath. If there’s anything I can’t stand, it’s being used.

Growing up, I had to look after myself. I learned the hard way that some people have bad intentions. That was a lesson I thought I’d learned, but clearly, I’ve forgotten it.

But if Jake Eckhart thinks he can treat me like another jersey-chasing fangirl, he has another thing coming.

Chapter 9

Jake

“Are you listening, Eckhart?” Coach asks, his arms folding over his chest. He stares at me intently, disappointment etched onto his face. “You could be in serious trouble right now. Your sponsors are spooked. I’ve even heard mention of cutting contracts after the latest media scandal.”

Coach paces behind the desk in his office, arms still folded. His cheeks are red. I silently watch him, knowing that my teammates are already on the field doing their last training exercises of the evening. I wish I was with them. I really need to blow off some of this steam, but I also know how important it is that I take this situation seriously.

I feel like a boiling tea kettle, a piercing whistling echoing between my ears that no one else can hear.

I’d explained last night’s situation to my coach, but that didn't change the way my fans and my sponsors were perceiving things. To them I look like a delinquent who throws raging parties while my little nephew is in the apartment with me.

The media has totally blown things out of proportion. The party wasn’t exactly raging. It was just a bunch of my teammates and some girls having a few drinks. But no matter which way I try to spin the situation, it looks bad. And there’s no one to blame but myself.

I still can’t believe how badly I’ve messed up. If the league or team owners decide to get involved, I could lose everything . . . including Ryan.

If only I’d followed my first instinct and called Stacy the moment Ryan and I got in that fight . . . It’s been a few days since I last saw Stacy. We didn’t have plans beyond Ryan’s soccer practices and they’re only twice a week. But waiting to see Stacy until Tuesday felt like an eternity.

I have to see her before then—if she’ll even talk to me once she catches wind of this media nightmare.

All I want is to hear her voice. I want her to take my hand, holding my calloused fingers in her soft ones, and say in that beautiful, soothing voice of hers that everything is going to be alright.

When she says it, I can almost believe her, but it’s getting harder and harder to imagine crawling out of the hole I’ve dug for myself, especially if I have to do it without her.

You’ll see her tomorrow, I tell myself, knowing she already agreed to take Ryan to his practices this week. Even if she’s mad at me, like the rest of the world, she won’t turn her back on Ryan.

I’d still been trying to get the little guy to talk to me when I sent him off to school this morning, but he wasn’t interested. We haven't said more than a couple of words to each other since the night of the party.

After I shooed everyone out of my place, I’d taken a cold shower, chugged a big cup of black coffee, and then helped him get ready for bed. He didn't mention anything he may have heard while the party was going on, and I hadn't apologized for it even though I knew I should. I just wasn’t sure what to say to him.

The most painful byproduct of this entire mess is the wedge that’s been formed between me and Ryan. I never wanted that to happen, and now I'm not sure what to do to repair our relationship.

I just wish I could do something to make this situation easier on him. I feel like a failure in every sense of the word.

It’s been all I can do not to call Stacy and beg for advice. The only reason I haven’t is because I don't want to prove to her what she’s probably been thinking all along is correct—that I'm in way over my head.

I’m hoping that I can at least repair things between my nephew and me before I go to her for help.

Stacy is someone I don’t want to disappoint. She has such a calming, comforting presence, one that makes me feel safe and want to be my best self. No one’s ever made me feel that way. Except for Jenny, I suppose.

God, Jenny would be such a huge help right now.

She’d know just what to do, and even if she didn't, she’d sit down with me to figure it out. I’ve got no one to depend on like that right now. It’s just me and Ryan against the world.

I thought, for a second there, that Stacy would join the vanguard that was me and my nephew, taking up sword and shield against everybody else. There was just something about her that made me feel like I could depend on her. I probably still could, if I could work up the nerve to admit to her just how badly I’d screwed up.

Just the thought of that beautiful brunette teacher makes my heart throb. I miss hearing her voice.

It’s odd how easily Stacy has crawled under my skin. I haven’t known her long, but she’s already become a valued part of my and Ryan’s life.

With her, I can let my guard down, something I’m not usually capable of doing with anyone. Not since Jenny passed away.

Since my sister died, I feel like I’ve been floundering, trying to find something to cling to. It’s like I can’t feel the ground beneath me anymore. How am I supposed to keep Ryan afloat when I'm barely keeping my own head above water?

Life was so much easier with Jenny around to offer support or a guiding hand when I needed it. It was more fun, too, when I had a friend. Sharing all these burdens with someone would make everything so much simpler—as long as that someone was just like Stacy.

No . . . not just like Stacy. The person has to be Stacy or no one at all. There’s no substitute for her. It’s that exact moment that something in my heart clicks.

My fingers twitch toward my thigh looking for my phone. I know I won’t find it. I’m wearing my practice uniform and my phone’s in my locker. I want to call Stacy desperately, but I know I can’t lay all this on her.

First of all, that would be crazy.

I'm a total mess and she’s well aware of it. She wouldn’t let her heart near me with a ten-foot pole—and I can’t blame her.

Second of all, Ryan needs my complete and total focus.

Things are hard enough without romance thrown into the mix, and I know if I tell Stacy that I can’t eat or sleep or put on a damn pair of pants without thinking of her, she’ll tell me to get a grip and focus on becoming the insta-dad I'm meant to be for my nephew.

I just hope she hasn’t turned on a television or radio in the last few days or else she’s going to want nothing to do with me, which may be the best choice for her anyway. If she’s seen my supposed exploits, she’s going to be disgusted with me.

I can’t blame her. Even though I wasn’t chasing skirts or purposefully throwing parties, I still have a lot to figure out for myself when it comes to stepping into the role of fatherhood.

“Jake,” Coach sighs, walking around his desk and taking my shoulders in his hands. He stares at me, his stern face crumpled. “I'm doing everything I can for you, Eckhart. But I need you to pull yourself together. You’re going to lose everything if you can’t get a grip on yourself. Your teammates out there, they need you. They depend on you. Are you going to let them down?”

“No, Coach,” I assure him, but it still feels like no matter what I promise, I always fall short.

He gazes at me, looking as though he’s going to offer some sage advice I badly need, but then he changes his mind and nods. “Good. Stay away from the reporters. They’re going to be like a dog with a bone now, hunting you down and trying to get any story they can. Keep your head down and nose clean. Don’t make me bench you.”

Right now, getting benched is the least of my worries. “Yes, Coach,” I answer, trying to be the definition of the obedient football star.

Finally, a small smile cracks his face. “Good. Now get back to work. I might have to put you through extra practices just to keep you away from the paparazzi. Go join your team.”

Extra practices? That would put an even further strain on the relationship between Ryan and me. I almost want to say that I can’t do the extra sessions, but I'm not the only person on my team with a family. There are many fathers amongst my teammates who make sacrifices too.

But are they worth it?

Mulling this, I jog from the room back toward the field.

The sun is hot overhead, beads of sweat blooming instantly on the back of my neck. I wait for that same energetic high to swell up in me the way it always does when I hear the familiar whistles of assistant coaches and grunts of my teammates pushing their bodies to the limit, but nothing happens.

Even as my cleats sink into soft grass, the air thick with the scent of sweat, the only thing that makes my pulse quicken is the thought of seeing Stacy tomorrow.

Chapter 10

Stacy

I don’t know why I thought I’d hear from Jake.

It’s not like we have any reason to talk when Ryan’s not directly involved, but for some reason, after everything I saw on the television, I’d thought he would at least, I don’t know, reach out to me to explain what was going on.

Don’t I deserve that much at least?

I know he and I haven’t known one another long, but I'm helping him take care of Ryan and I'm also Ryan’s teacher. I deserve to be kept in the loop. At least that’s what I'm telling myself to try and ease the feeling of disappointment that Jake hasn’t reached out to me.

Even though I’ve never been particularly attached to my phone, I’ve started carrying it around and checking it almost compulsively just in the hope that Jake’s name pops up on the screen.

But days have passed, and I haven't heard a single peep from the unquestionably sexy tight end. No matter how irritated I get with him, I still can’t entirely forget the way his smile makes me feel or the way his laugh makes my knees go weak.

“Miss Davis?” Ryan’s little voice asks when all the other students have drifted from the room at the end of the day. “Are you ready?”

He’s hung back, pretending to take his time in packing his things while the other kids leave. Neither Jake nor I have told Ryan that it’s supposed to be a secret that I’m taking him to soccer, but the six-year-old doesn't seem keen on letting the other children know anyway.

It’s not cool, I suppose, to hang out with your teacher after school. Ouch.

I'm not going to lie, that stings a little, but it’s also convenient. It means I can tell Jake that Ryan would prefer someone else take over my soccer duties.

Ryan has been quieter than normal this week which doesn’t surprise me. I can’t imagine what must be going through his head, or how much he may know about the stuff on television. I decided to push all of that away and focus solely on brightening his day.

“I sure am!” I answer, plastering a big smile on my face that I hope is believable. I can’t tell whether the somber six-year-old is convinced or not.

It’s hard to read the little boy’s expressions. He seems to have two, one a slight smile and the other a distracted frown. I no longer reprimand him when he stares out the window in class, instead I gently try to coax him back to reality. Now that I understand the heavy weight that’s been placed on his small shoulders, it’s made me rethink the way I approach some of my students. No matter how much money they may have, you never know what’s going on in their home lives.

“So,” I say slowly as we walk out toward the parking lot. I peek around corners for Principal Walton’s beady little eyes, but he’s been distracted lately with an assembly coming up and he hasn’t had time to pester me. “How are things at home with your uncle?”

I’ve been brainstorming all weekend to come up with how to ask Ryan whether or not he’s aware of the social media storm whirling around his family. I can’t very well ask him directly, especially if by some miracle he isn’t aware of the situation. But judging by the sudden sagging of his shoulders, he’s more than aware. As usual though, he’s tightlipped.

It saddens my heart to see a little kid so guarded, and I hope that he and Jake can both come out the other side of this stronger, both individually and together. They deserve it after all they’ve been through.

“Uncle Jake is frustrated a lot but he doesn’t want me to see it,” Ryan says quietly.

“But you do see it, don’t you?”

“I see a lot of things.” Ryan is quiet for a long moment. “Like how much attention he gets from other people.”

I can hear jealousy in the little boy’s voice and it’s not at all surprising.

I’ve seen it all over his face when he’s on the soccer field pining for Jake’s attention. Ryan wants his uncle all to himself. As understandable as that is for a little kid, it’s also not quite realistic. What they both need is balance. It’s a tough thing, especially when Ryan needs so much extra love in this difficult time in his life. Everything has changed so fast for him. He must feel like he’s been swept out into an ocean with no lifeboats in sight.

I'm glad to be able to spend some extra time with him and get to know who Ryan is beneath his carefully guarded shell.

I reach down and take his hand on instinct as we cross the road. For a moment I feel him stiffen, but then his tiny little fingers clamp down around mine. Something swells deep in my heart, like little flowers taking root, but I don’t quite understand what the feeling is. All I know is that I have to grip his small hand back just as tightly to let him know I won’t let go easily.

We make it to his Tuesday soccer practice just in time and soon he’s out on the field.

He’s less enthusiastic than he was last week, preferring to sit on the sidelines and pluck blades of grass from the field. I call and cheer and clap for him, but it does little to spur his interest. He has a lot on his mind, but he does at least try to kick the ball and participate every now and then. When he’s distracted, I check my watch.

Jake is even later than normal. At this rate, he’s going to miss the practice completely. But that may not be a bad thing considering the paparazzi presence. They’re lurking as close as security will allow, snapping pictures of Ryan when they can.

I sneak away from the field under the pretense of rushing off to the bathroom for a moment and dig out my cell so I can call Jake. I promised myself I wouldn’t be the one to reach out first, but this is a special case. It’s for Ryan.

To my surprise, the tight end answers almost at the first ring.

“Stacy?” The way my name tumbles so easily from his lips making me shiver. I can hear strange noises around him. It sounds like people are shouting his name. “I'm glad you called. This is awful.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I've been trying to leave the stadium after practice for over an hour but the paparazzi are everywhere.”

“They’re here too,” I add.

I hear the frustration in Jake’s deep exhale. “I’ve been trying to lose them so I can get to my car but they’re like bloodhounds. I don’t want to lead them to Ryan, not after the week we’ve had. I'm going to sneak off when I can and get a taxi, but it might be a while. Can you do me a huge favor and take Ryan to my place? I’ll text you the address.”

I'm almost surprised the headstrong footballer has the consideration to not bring the negative energy of the media to Ryan. I nod even though he can’t see the gesture, and then remember I have to actually speak.

“Sure,” I stammer out. “I’ll take him to your place. You’ll get there as soon as you can? He’s going to be disappointed.” I hadn't meant to add that last jab in there, but I can’t help myself, I'm still mildly pissed he didn't contact me.

Jake draws in a slight breath and then sighs. “I’ll do my best to hurry. Tell him I'm sorry,” he murmurs, a distinct sadness in his voice.

I hang up the phone and scold my foolish heart for leaping at the sound of Jake’s voice. “You’re still mad at him,” I remind myself.

Ugh! So, why do I still have butterflies?

I head back to the field just as the kids are released from practice. Ryan walks up to me, his face just slightly damp with sweat, his eyes brooding.

“Was that Uncle Jake?” he asks quietly, noting the phone in my hand.

His fingers drum against the white and black ball tucked under his small arm. He’s already accepted that his uncle has missed his practice, but I can tell he’s just as upset as I expected him to be.

I bend down so I'm at the little boy’s height and smile. “Jake just wanted to give me and you a little extra time to hang out tonight. Isn’t that awesome?”

Ryan shrugs, but my words seem to comfort him a little, and he takes my hand again as we walk back to my car. I help him buckle in and play his favorite radio station as we head toward the address Jake texted me.

The apartment building is even more extravagant than I expected. Two men stand on either side of the doors as we approach, nodding when I tell them who I am. They smile and tell me Jake already called to let them know I’d be visiting his penthouse. One point, Jake.

I try not to gawk as we walk through the lobby, but this place is incredible.

Ryan seems to notice the look on my face because he gives me side eye as we walk. “We live in a penthouse,” he says with a trace of pride in his voice.

“That’s pretty cool,” I answer, earning a wide smile from him as he nods.

We take the elevator all the way up to the top floor and then Ryan gives me the key from his backpack to unlock the door. Together, we step inside, but as he traipses off toward the biggest television that I’ve ever seen, my jaw drops to the floor in surprise.

“What the hell?” I whisper, my words getting away from me.

At least they make the little boy giggle. His hands fly to his round cheeks. “Miss Davis, you said a bad word!”

I ignore Ryan’s taunt. “Is this place always like this?” I ask, taking in the mess before me.

Piles of dirty clothes cover the floor, dishes and old takeout boxes litter the countertops, toys and football gear are strewn about. You can barely take two steps anywhere without kicking over an empty box or a pile of toys. It’s like a tornado whirled through here or a burglar ransacked the place.

“Yup,” Ryan says with another laugh. “Uncle Jake says this is what a man cave looks like.”

He puffs out his little chest and it’s my turn to laugh. Things are about to change around here.

“Seems like this man cave needs a womanly touch,” I shoot back, grinning when Ryan tilts his curious head.

Chapter 11

Jake

I run up the stairs to the apartment faster than I ran any drills during training today, practically throwing my body against the door to push it open. Stacy is inside waiting for me, and after everything that I’ve dealt with recently, all I really want is to see her face.

For a split second when I step that first foot through the door, I'm almost convinced I’ve barged into the wrong apartment.

The fragrance of roasted tomatoes and garlic and something earthy—basil?—wafts through the air. Still frozen in shock, I breathe in deeply, my stomach rumbling, as my eyes take in the spotless floors and clean walls. Someone has deep cleaned the apartment. I haven’t seen my floors in such a long time I don’t remember what they look like.

“You alright?” Stacy’s familiar voice calls.

Dazed, I follow the sound of clinking dishes and running water to the kitchen. She stands at the sink, her brown curls piled atop her head as she dries a dish.

“Yeah, I just . . . wow,” I murmur, sinking onto a barstool.

I look around, rubbing my eyes still unable to believe how amazing my place looks. It hasn’t looked like this since I bought the flat. I lean against the counter, marveling at the polished granite surface. The framed picture of Jenny and Ryan that sits nearby has been dusted and Jenny looks even more beautiful than ever without that thin layer of grime covering her olive-toned skin.

Stacy doesn’t look at me, focusing back on cleaning the dishes. Her movements are a bit sharp with justifiable irritation.

I clear my throat, smiling. “This place looks brand new. You did all this?”

“I had a lot of time,” Stacy shoots back.

I don’t miss the jab. It’s deserved. It took me forever to get away from the reporters. But the last thing I wanted was for them to follow me here. I had to wait them out.

At least it gave me time to shower and shave.

“Where’s Ryan?” I ask as Stacy slides open the oven and pulls a warm plate piled high with marinara, noodles and meatballs out and lays it in front of me. “Getting in one last round of Xbox or something?”

Stacy stares at me from over the plate, her brows pinching together.

“He’s in bed, Jake. It’s already after nine.”

“This early?” I laugh. “Wow, I'm surprised you convinced him to go to bed.”

She continues to stare at me, her brow furrowing as the clock on the wall ticks on. I clear my throat again, a nervous habit. I'm just making her more irritated now.

“He’s six. This is not early,” says the brunette beauty in a clearly displeased tone.

“Oh,” I answer blankly.

“You really have no idea how much sleep a kid his age should get, do you?” she asks.

My shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. “When I was his age, Jenny and I used to stay up practically all night.”

“No wonder he’s exhausted half the time he comes to class,” she mutters. “How late do you normally put him to bed?”

“He goes to sleep whenever,” I answer while shoveling a meatball between my lips. It’s delicious, rich and tender, practically melting on my tongue.

I can’t remember the last time I had a meal like this. Neither Jenny nor I cooked much growing up. We didn’t have the funds for much more than Ramen noodles. And when I made it big, I didn’t have any reason to cook. I lived on takeout.

I bite back a moan and take another big bite, not even caring that marina drips onto my shirt. Stacy shakes her head, but I see she’s fighting a smirk. At least the tension has started easing some.

“You act like you haven’t eaten in years,” she says.

“I haven’t, not something like this anyway. It’s amazing. You’re amazing,” I add before I can help it, gesturing at the clean apartment and the homecooked meal.

I can’t tell if it’s the dim light, the heat of the stove, or a blush that reddens the beautiful teacher’s face. I could stare at that face all night, all day—forever.

The thought passes through my mind so abruptly that I clamp my teeth painfully down on the silver fork between my lips.

“It’s just spaghetti and meatballs,” Stacy says dismissively. “It was all I could whip up with things I found in your pantry and freezer.”

“If this is something you just whipped up then I'm dying to see what you can do with a full fridge.” Half my plate is gone already and I'm still craving more. “You want a beer or something?” I ask as I walk to the fridge.

“I don’t normally drink on weeknights, but . . . sure. We need to talk.”

I can’t help but wince. That’s never good. Losing my appetite, I grab us two beers from the fridge. I pop them both open and pass her one. We both take the time for a hearty glug before staring at one another from the barstools where we’re perched.

“I really appreciate you taking care of Ryan today,” I say quietly while Stacy visibly ponders her words.

If she’s taking this much time figuring out what she needs to say, then I'm in deep trouble. Maybe Ryan was rude to her like he’s been to the other nannies and she’s decided to call it quits already without even taking him to his Thursday practice. If that’s the case, he and I really are up the creek without a paddle.

She sighs, takes another gulp of beer, and sets down the nearly empty bottle. I'm impressed by how fast the girl can chug. I probably wouldn’t even be able to match her in my college days.

“Things need to change, Jake,” she says in a rush of words that jumble together. She stares imploringly into my eyes. “This isn’t good for Ryan. None of this. Skipping out on things that are important to him, being tailed by paparazzi, surviving on takeout, living in filth despite your beautiful apartment . . . this isn’t how you raise a kid. Ryan needs better. He needs you to be better.”

I swallow hard, knowing she’s right even though every word is like a dagger to the heart. I stare down into my lap. While she’s done with her beer, mine’s hardly touched.

Even though we had less, Jenny raised me better than I’ve done with Ryan. I know he needs more, I'm just not sure where I can pull more from. I feel like I’m giving it my all, I'm just torn in two. Most parents have a partner to rely on, or at least nine months to adjust to the idea of being a parent to begin with, but not me. I was just thrown to the wolves. I had no warning, no time to prepare.

“I want to be like my sister,” I whisper, gesturing at her nearby photo. “I want to raise Jenny’s son with the passion and diligence she had for me, but I just . . . I don’t know how. She sacrificed everything to make sure I had what I needed. She put me above herself every single minute of every single day.”

“And Ryan deserves that too,” Stacy says quietly.

“I know!” I answer, anger coloring my words. “I know,” I repeat, softer this time. “I love that little guy so much, but I never wanted kids. I never saw myself settling down and caring for anyone but myself. What if he turns out like me, a huge mess? I'm terrified of failing him, of him following my footsteps. I'm terrified I'm going to screw him up forever if I spend too much time around him.”

Stacy reaches out and rests one hand on mine. Her palm is smooth and warmth washes instantly over me. I close my eyes for a moment and bask in it, but then she pulls back, and my hand—and heart— is cold again.

Without thinking, I snag her hand back in mine just to cling to it a moment longer. She sucks in a breath of surprise, staring down at our hands. I feel her fingers trembling slightly against my own, but she manages to speak without a tremor.

“Every new parent feels that way, and that’s what you are, Jake. A new parent. You have a lot of learning to do but I have faith that you can do what you need to for Ryan. Follow your gut, trust your heart, and you won’t fail him.”

Her words are kind and they make me feel better, but I know I can’t do this alone. I don’t know how to juggle my own needs and the needs of my nephew.

What if my instincts are wrong? What if my heart is misguided?

Slowly, I lift my head to gaze into Stacy’s gentle eyes. She stares back, hope glimmering on her face. She believes in me more than I believe in myself, but I need more than just blind optimism. I need something concrete, something that I know will be there for me.

“Will you help me?” I ask after swallowing hard. I cradle her hand gently, lacing my fingers between hers. “Help me and Ryan. I want to change. But I don’t think I can do it unless you’re by my side.”

Chapter 12

Stacy

Jake’s eyes are so sincere as he stares at me, gripping my hand against his rough palm, his thumb gently tracing up and down the back of my hand. My heart aches, being pulled in two different directions.

All I can think about at this moment is Eric and Morgan’s warnings, which are ringing in the back of my mind.

This is The Hartbreak Kid we’re talking about.

This is a man who’s never committed to anyone or anything except for football. He’s going to have a hard enough time keeping up with his obligations to his nephew, let alone a committed relationship. And he’s not exactly off to a stellar start with how unreliable he’s been lately.

I swallow hard as I gaze into Jake’s pleading eyes. He’s not just asking me to help out around the apartment, not with the way he’s slowly coming closer and closer to me until his enticing cologne tickles my nose.

This isn’t a decision I can make lightly, not with how twisted up my heart is.

On the one hand, I want nothing more than to cave and throw my arms around the hunky tight end and kiss him for the first time. I feel butterflies and sparks just thinking about it. And spending more time with Ryan . . . that kid is so sweet and lovable underneath his hard shell. I would love to get to know the little boy even more.

But that’s also part of the problem.

I'm Ryan’s teacher.

Not only would it be completely inappropriate to get involved with one of my student’s parents, but it’s also strictly against the rules. Principal Walton would have my hide if he ever found out I was spending time around Jake and Ryan outside of school.

I know all of this, but I also know the way my heart feels when I look into Jake’s eyes—complete.

Jake turns in his barstool, still clutching my hand, and suddenly both of his knees are on either side of mine so that my legs are trapped between his strong thighs. Heat radiates from his body. It’s so alluring and comforting that I don’t even pull away. My tongue is heavy behind my teeth, like suddenly I'm under Jake’s spell, which I am, to be completely honest.

He lifts my hand to rest over his heart and I feel it thumping under my palm, along with the strong line of his pecs. He’s so chiseled he might as well be crafted from marble by a master sculptor.

I make the mistake of allowing my gaze to slowly drift up from where my hand is pressed against his chest to gaze into those beautiful brown eyes.

They pull me in with a silent siren song. I feel as though I'm drowning in them, and the only way to save myself is to agree to help him and Ryan even more than I already have.

But this situation is so complicated. For the first time in my life, I don’t know what the right answer is. Do I stay in their lives and possibly get hurt and lose my job, or turn him away and hope that Jake can figure things out by himself?

I mean, at some point he’s going to have to do just that. I can’t hold his hand forever—no matter how much I want to.

Plus, there’s also the possibility that he’s just using me.

I mean look at him. He’s Jake-freaking-Eckhart! He knows how women melt in his presence. He knows how to use his dashing charm and good looks to get his way.

Maybe that’s all this is. Maybe it’s nothing more than a show in order to keep me taking care of his nephew while he’s out partying around town.

I sincerely hope not. That wouldn’t be fair to me or to Ryan.

Ugh!

I bite my lip, wishing that some sort of clarity would hit me like a lightning bolt.

Why does Jake have to be famous?

This would be so much easier if we could just escape the cameras and the watching eyes for a while and give this a go.

And why does Ryan have to be one of my students?

Then we wouldn’t have to hide what's going on, and I would be able to tell if Jake’s intentions were pure or not.

But wishing won’t change the reality of the situation. And the reality is that this whole thing is messed up and confusing and there’s no right or wrong. I just have to take my heart out of it and do what I hope is best for all parties involved.

As if sensing my inner turmoil, Jake leans closer and gently tucks a stray curl behind my ear.

“Stacy,” he whispers gently.

Hearing my name uttered in that deep, sexy voice of his makes a shiver roll slowly up my spine. Goose bumps prickle across my shoulders in its wake and I bite my lip harder. He makes it so hard to resist him.

“Are you still in there?” he asks teasingly.

I nod and the hand that just brushed my hair behind my ear strokes slowly to my chin, tipping my face toward his. My chest rises and falls in shallow pants. When I gaze into those eyes of his, I'm hypnotized.

There’s such a strong part of me that wants nothing more than to shut out all my doubts and worries and just give in to him.

He’s so close I can feel the heat of his breath on my lips. His taste is sweet even with the distance between us. My tongue traces the curve of my upper lip. His breath hitches at the sight.

He leans closer, one arm moving to glide around my back and pull me against him.

This is it. The perfect moment. The one I’ve been subconsciously waiting for since I first laid eyes on the incredibly handsome athlete. I know what will happen, I can see it clearly in my mind before either of us even moves. He’ll drag me into his lap so that my legs straddle his, and I’ll melt against his powerful chest and drink in the intoxicating elixir of his kiss, and that’ll be it for me.

I’ll be completely under his spell.

With a whimper, I jerk free of him, crashing my palms against his chest so hard he almost falls out of his chair.

He manages to catch himself. “Stacy?” he exclaims, startled by the sudden movement. “What’s wrong?”

My head shakes wildly back and forth with so much energy that my hair flies into my eyes, though I don’t take a second to push it away. “I can’t, Jake. This is wrong. I can’t do this.”

“Wait—” he begins, reaching out as if to embrace me again, but I leap up from my barstool and put a healthy distance between us, hoping that if I can suck down a single breath of fresh air that isn’t laced with his enthralling aroma I may be able to breathe again.

“You and I have to be professional. You’re my student’s guardian, and that’s just the way things have to be.”

“But Ryan needs your help,” Jake says quietly. He runs his hand through his hair in frustration. “It’s more than just that.” He blows out a breath. “I need you, Stacy.”

He pins me with those chocolate eyes and it’s all I can do not to retreat back to his welcome arms.

“I understand you both need someone reliable in your lives, someone to keep you accountable and someone who both of you can have in your corner. I’m willing to help however I can, but we can’t complicate this with anything physical.” My voice is tense and strained. “Not if we want what’s best for Ryan.”

Jake’s eyes are solemn, his gaze flickering toward my mouth as I speak like he still longs to kiss me. I keep my own eyes locked on his face, refusing to give myself the enjoyment of looking over his perfect body. I have to control myself. I studied and worked hard all those years through school so I could make a difference in the lives of many, not to sleep with one of my student’s guardians on a lustful whim.

“Why don’t you sit back down and we can talk about this more?” he says quietly, gesturing back at the barstool where I was a moment ago.

Instead of agreeing with him, which I badly want to do, I shake my head and gather my things.

“I’ll see you at school, okay?” I force out huskily, then I turn and walk as fast as I can toward the door.

He chases me, but only to the door, and then he stops and watches me as I punch the elevator button frantically. When it takes longer than two seconds and I can still feel Jake’s eyes boring a hot hole into my spine, I flee down the stairwell.

With every step I force between him and me, my heart seems to shatter apart in my chest.

If I'm so sure that I’ve made the right choice in putting distance between Jake’s heart and mine, why does it hurt so much?

Chapter 13

Jake

Time seems to stand still as I watch Stacy leave.

I didn't want to let her go. It took all of my might not to race down those steps and lift her up into my arms and spin her around so I could plant a desperate kiss on those perfect pink lips of hers. But I’d held myself back. I'm not the type of guy to push a woman into something she doesn’t want.

It is strange though, I’ll admit, to be on this side of bad romance. I'm used to feeling desired and longed for. I'm used to being the chased instead of the chaser.

If my heart wasn’t aching so much from letting her go, I might’ve felt the faintest hint of a thrill. The idea of chasing Stacy is more than enticing. It’s strangely refreshing to have someone in my life who doesn’t want me only because I’m The Hartbreak Kid.

Women have always been easy for me to come by, but Stacy isn’t like any other woman.

She humbles me to the core.

It never crossed my mind that she would turn me down when I was holding her hand in mine. I thought I had her, hook, line and sinker. But that wasn’t the case at all.

Her rejection stung—bad. But it’s also a harsh reminder of just how strong my feelings are becoming.

Stacy is one of a kind.

I guess I started to think all women were like the Hartbreakers who chased me around and tried to seduce me into a one-night stand so they could brag about it to all their friends. But Stacy has her own ambitions and morals and desires. And even though she probably thinks those ideals of hers are incompatible with mine, I think we’re more alike than she’s willing to admit.

Maybe, somehow, I can prove to her that we’re not so different after all. It’s going to take a hell of a lot of work, but Stacy is worth it.

“Uncle Jake?” a sleepy voice says from behind me.

Even though I don’t want to, I step back slowly from the doorway with one lingering glance toward the stairwell and shut the door. I don’t lock it. Not yet. Just in case there’s the chance she may come back.

“What’s up, kiddo?” I answer with a forced smile.

As I look at him, I also find myself startled by the spotlessness of the apartment again. It’s still so new it catches me off guard. I take a moment to stand in awe of everything Stacy’s done. I didn’t realize it was as bad as it was before she tidied up.

She’s right though. I’m not doing all that I can for Ryan. The realization is like a slap in the face.

He takes in my expression, not reciprocating the smile I'm still forcing so hard it makes my cheeks ache.

“Where did Stacy go?” he asks.

When did he start calling his teacher by her first name?

It seems they’ve really bonded over the past weeks they’ve spent together.

“She had to go home, kid. Even teachers need sleep, buddy.”

He contemplates my words. I think there’s a part of him that thinks teachers live and breathe their classrooms. “Were you two arguing? I heard you talking loud and it woke me up.”

“Nah. Just talking about boring adult stuff.” The last thing I want is for him to have extra strife in his life.

I walk over to him and pick him up. In his grief he’s lost some weight over the last year, but I can already see just a little more healthy definition to his body from running around on the soccer field. His appetite has been better too. It probably helped to get some real food in him tonight instead of takeout like I usually get us.

He lets me hold him and for a moment it strikes me that he probably won’t allow the action for very much longer. He’s getting older by the day. He’s not that cute little kid who used to toddle across the carpet between Jenny and me anymore. He’s becoming a little man, slowly but surely.

He’s already had to grow up quicker than he should have with his mother’s loss. I need to do what I can to make sure he stays young for as long as possible. Jenny would want that.

“What’d you think of Stacy’s cooking?” I ask, carrying him back toward his bedroom.

He yawns, his head on my shoulder, one arm around my neck and the other dangling toward the floor.

“It was really good. And she let me stir the sauce and taste it whenever I wanted. She said that’s the chef’s tax.” He noisily licks his lips as though he could still taste the delicious meal.

I laugh, the sound in my chest reverberating against my nephew’s cheek before I slowly lower him into his racecar bed. He lays back, eyelids heavy even as his head hits the soft pillow.

I settle down in the chair by his bed and tug up the blanket to tuck around him. A plush panda bear keeps a careful eye on us from the corner of his bed until he reaches up for it without looking and cuddles it up against him.

“Is she going to come back?” Ryan asks in a voice so tiny that I almost miss his question entirely.

It makes my heart stop, the way he looks suddenly terrified at the thought of losing another person in his life.

But I don’t know if, or when, Stacy will return to us. She claims she wants to remain a stable source of support for my grieving nephew and I, but I don’t know exactly what that means.

For now, I don’t have a good answer for the kid, and that hurts worse than anything.

“You’ll get to see her every day at school,” I say with a grin, lightly tickling him to distract him from his worry.

It works and he squeals and clings to his panda bear even tighter. He’s too tired to brood over his worries much more, so I grab his favorite book off the end table and start to read. Soon his eyes drift shut until he’s snoring away. I keep reading for a few more minutes, just in case he can hear the story wherever he is in his dream world. Then I set the book on his end table before leaning over and pressing a kiss to his forehead just like Jenny used to do.

A few moments later I walk out into the living room and take stock of things. This is no place for a kid. Even though Ryan’s toys are strewn about, you take one glance at this place and you know it’s a bachelor pad. Plus, his room still looks more like an office than a place cozy enough for a child to feel at home.

I grab my phone, flicking open the browser.

Change has always been something I avoided like the plague. I joined the NFL right out of college and I’ve been with the same team ever since. I’ve never had to move around a lot or juggle responsibilities before my sister died. I’ve been dragging my heels, pretending that I can just force Ryan into the life I’ve already built instead of expanding that life to accommodate him. But now, if I'm going to show Stacy just how seriously I’m taking everything she’s said to me, I'm going to have to do just that.

I settle down on the couch and kick up my legs.

Step one, get us some real food.

I still don’t have the time to go grocery shopping, but fortunately there seems to be an abundance of delivery services. I sign up for one, proud of myself for even scoping out a discount coupon as well. I may have plenty of money, but more money in my pockets means more I can channel toward Ryan.

Next, I decide to find an interior decorator to help me revamp this place so it’s a kid-friendly haven. I read a few reviews and write down a number to call in the morning. It’s too late now.

Then, to top off my productive evening of newfound adulting, I sign up for some parenting magazines and even a few online cooking lessons so I can be better equipped to feed Ryan. That way there’s less pressure on Stacy to mold me into the perfect father figure.

When I’ve finished, hours have passed and long shadows have crept across the carpet.

I trudge to bed, knowing I have to get up early to help Ryan get ready for school and then head to practice, but I feel more at ease and content than I have all year.

I can do this.

I can change.

I can prove to Stacy that I'm worth it.

Chapter 14

Stacy

Friday can’t get here fast enough.

Even though I adore spending time with my students and seeing them grow and develop and tackle new milestones in their education, I think this week I’ve been looking at the clock as much as they have, just as eager to call it a wrap on these hectic few days.

Chloe and Morgan, despite the absolute craziness of their schedules, have dedicated one Friday every month for a girls’ night—and I need it desperately this month.

The date may change from month to month, but we’ve never missed a single one since becoming friends. That single date every month has become my lifeline. Getting to catch up with both of my best friends is always so much fun and the thing I look forward to most.

I love hearing updates on Chloe and Donovan’s nonprofit that provides water to impoverished countries. She always brings photos of the latest places around the globe that the two lovebirds have traveled, whether it’s to dig irrigation trenches themselves or attend high-profile outreach programs. I never would’ve guessed my old roommate Chloe would be such a world traveler, but I suppose when she has someone like Donovan at her side, she must feel like she can do anything.

Morgan, too, has seen her share of the world.

Ever since she was recruited to be the model for the ad campaign publicizing Eric’s rock band, she’s been booking huge shoots, not to mention that Eric’s band has been topping the music charts for months.

Listening to their stories of romance and success is so amazing, and I do my best not to show them how envious I feel at times. But I can’t help but wonder why I'm the only one who hasn’t found my own happily ever after.

What’s holding me back?

The bell rings, making both the children and I spring to life. While they hurriedly collect their books and bags, I start throwing my things into my purse hoping the kids will rush out as quickly as ever.

Ryan, however, sidles up to me. I noticed earlier that he has a new backpack and the lunch he brought today was carefully packed for him and surprisingly nutritious rather than the typical Chinese takeout he usually brings.

“What’s up?” I say, forcing myself to slow down and focus only on the little boy standing in front of me. If anyone deserves my attention over girls’ night, it’s this kid right here.

“I just wanted to say hi,” he says with a smile.

“Oh, yeah. Is that it?” I ask, recognizing the shy look on his face as one very similar to his uncle’s.

I know Jake thinks Ryan is the spitting image of Jenny, but I see a lot of the football star in the kid too, especially in those dark brown eyes they share. They both have the kind of eyes that can get them anything.

He nods, taking a few steps before resting an elbow on the corner of my desk. “Oh, I'm supposed to tell you that we got new furniture in our house.”

I have a feeling he was supposed to leave out that he was told to drop this hint to me, but I smile all the same.

“What kind of furniture?” I ask, biting back a groan.

Of course Jake would go on a wild shopping spree to heal from my rejection.

“He got me a new bed and a big bookcase.” Ryan extends his arms wildly to his side to embellish his point, babbling excitedly now. “And tons of books just for me! And a globe! Uncle Jake lets me pick out places on it and we look them up on his phone.”

“Wow,” I say softly.

It actually sounds like Jake is putting in some serious effort to make his bachelor pad a kid-friendly zone. It’s touching.

Ryan nods. “It’s all really cool! Uncle Jake got a bunch of catalogs and we circled things we want. And we’re going to paint my room together, all black and white like a soccer ball.”

“That’s great!” I set down my things, trying to soak in what the six-year-old is saying.

Was Jake really taking initiative without me there to push him into it?

“Will you come to see it soon?” he asks with a hopeful smile, blinking those sweet little eyes.

“Did Jake tell you to ask me that, too?” I tease.

Ryan laughs and shakes his head. “No. But we got new stuff in the kitchen and I think you’d really like that too since you like cooking.”

“I bet I would.”

“Oh!” Ryan gives a little gasp and clutches his new superhero lunchbox to his chest. “Uncle Jake’s probably here. I’ve got to go!”

I wave and watch him leave, snagging my own bag. I can hardly believe what I'm hearing. Is Jake really picking up his nephew by himself?

I poke my head out of the doorway just in time to catch a red BMW leaving the parking lot. The license plate reads; HARTBKR

Had I left a few minutes earlier, I may have come across him myself. My heart thumps in my chest, but I shake my head to clear my pangs of longing.

The faster I get to girls’ night, the faster I can spill this whole situation to my friends and get some honest feedback. I want to believe Jake is doing all the right things and making all the right changes, but it seems too good to be true.

* * *

The entire time I make my way to the bar where my former roomies are waiting, I feel as though my head is in the clouds. I can’t get my conversation with Ryan out of my head. My heart is so conflicted. I don’t know whether I can trust it or if The Hartbreak Kid is playing me.

When I arrive at the girls’ night destination, Chloe and Morgan are already seated at our usual table. I push through the crowd to join them, pleased to find a pink cosmo already waiting for me. I take a small sip of it and grin at my friends.

They stare back at me, completely silent, and when I just look back at them in confusion Morgan lightly jabs my ribs. “Spill! We’re dying to know about you and the football star!”

Chloe nods, leaning forward across the table. “Tell. Us. Everything! I feel like I’ve been so out of the loop since Donovan and I have been gone so much!”

I gnaw at my lip. I’ve been waiting to be able to hash all this out with my best friends, but now that they’re here I don’t know what to say. “I don’t even know where to begin . . . Actually, I guess there isn’t really much to tell now, because I told him that he and I need to keep things strictly professional.”

“Seriously?” Morgan gasps. When I nod she throws in a quick, “Good for you.”

Chloe murmurs her agreement and lifts her drink toward me proudly. “So he’s out of your life then?”

I frown, pushing away my glass. “You two are total romantics. Are you honestly saying you’re happy I didn't pursue him harder?”

“He’s a player, Stacy,” Chloe says softly. “I mean, isn’t that his reputation? You’re right to be cautious.”

“He’s The Hartbreak Kid,” Morgan adds with a knowing nod.

“You two aren’t helping me figure this out at all! I thought you’d be able to give me some better perspective. I really like this guy but we’ve got so much going against us. His fame, Ryan being my student, my job being on the line if we’re found out.”

“Exactly!” Chloe replies.

“If there are this many hurdles, then maybe it’s just not right,” Morgan says, laying her hand on mine.

“Oh, like you two didn't have hurdles in your own relationships. Donovan was a total jerk to you, Chloe, and Eric had some serious problems of his own when you met him, Morgan. But you guys didn't give up because you must’ve felt something special. There was a part of you that knew they were the one for you, right?”

Chloe blushes while Morgan bites her lip begrudgingly but agrees.

“Well, that’s my question. How did you guys know you’d found the one? Your one?” I whisper, allowing my voice to be swallowed by the din of the noisy bar.

Looking at my two best friends and the happiness they’ve found, it makes me want to believe that there really is a perfect man out there for me. But how will I know when I find him?

The emotions that I have for Jake are so wildly confusing, I don’t know how to make sense of them at all.

“It was just a feeling right here,” Chloe explains, pressing her hand over her heart. “When Donovan and I were getting to know each other, I just felt like I was a whole person when he was around, like he brought out the best in me.”

She sighs wistfully and looks to Morgan for help in explaining the feeling she had when meeting the love of her life.

“Eric makes everything fun but he knows when to be serious too,” Morgan says, her own eyes dreamy and distant. “He makes me want to be brave and he reminds me that I'm beautiful on the inside and that it’s important to love myself.”

“Does Jake make you feel any of that?” Chloe asks with a quick look back at me.

I bite my lip. “He does. When I look into his eyes, there’s sincerity there, or at least I truly believe there is. He has this mask that he wears for his football games and his fans and stuff, but there’s a real man under there who’s dealing with some real problems. And when he almost kissed me the other day . . .” I trail off, flushing crimson.

Chloe and Morgan exchange a look.

“I’ve never seen you like this, Stacy,” Morgan says, squeezing my hand. “I'm still skeptical because of how he’s portrayed through the media. I don’t want you to get hurt. But you’re a good person with a good heart and a good judge of character. You need to trust your instincts.”

“There’s a way we may be able to figure this out,” Chloe suggests, her hands steepled so she can rest her chin on her fingertips. She has a cunning smile on her face. “Invite him out to a charity event Donovan and I are holding. It’s this cute new business that we’ve added to our PR biz called Central Bark Pet Shop and Boarding. The girl, Summer, who runs it is a total sweetheart and there will be tons of adorable animals to play with. You can get Jake out of his uniform and away from the cameras and see what he’s really like.”

“And Chloe and I can both judge him for ourselves!” Morgan squeals excitedly.

I lean back in my chair. “I don’t know. His schedule is insane . . . could he bring his nephew?”

“I don’t see why not,” Chloe answers.

I chew my thumb. “I literally just told Jake we need to keep things professional. If I ask him to something like this, it’ll definitely seem like a date.”

“So, are you willing to let him go or not?” Morgan quips with a frown, “Because a second ago you were trying to convince us that he’s amazing.”

“Come on, Stacy. If he says no then at least you tried,” Chloe adds.

With a grin, Morgan pushes my drink back toward me. “Drink up, girl. Find a little courage and maybe you’ll find the love of your life, too.”

Unable to help but laugh, I pick up my drink and down it, letting the flush of alcohol warm me through—though it doesn’t compare at all to the warmth I feel in Jake’s presence. Thinking of him, I grab my phone and start crafting a text while the other two girls lean over my shoulder.

“I can’t believe you might be dating an NFL player!” Chloe gushes. “That’s so crazy. What position does he play?”

“Tight end,” I reply casually, trying not to get ahead of myself as I hit send on the text.

It’s hard to imagine Jake will have time for an event like this, and I sort of feel guilty even asking knowing what’s already on his plate.

Fortunately, Morgan always knows how to lighten the mood.

“So, tell us, Stacy, how tight is his end?” she asks with a giggle as we order another round of drinks and laugh together until my sides ache.

If nothing else comes of this, at least I know I’ll always have these two on my side.

Chapter 15

Jake

It’s taken me all of ten seconds to text back an earnest Yes! to Stacy’s text inviting me to some event.

Frankly, I barely read the message further than her request for me to attend with her. I didn't even check my calendar. If she needs me to be somewhere, I’m there.

After our discussion at my place I know I have no room for error with her. But I think she’ll be pleasantly surprised. I’ve made some big changes in my life. Changes that were long overdue.

I’ve already started reworking my practice schedule with Coach so I can be there for Ryan’s soccer games and have more time dedicated just to being with the six-year-old.

I’m currently stuck at a late Friday practice and have only just a second on the sideline but I’m dedicating all of it to Stacy. Normally, I don’t check my messages during practice, not since last year anyway, but my heart leapt when I heard the phone buzz, thinking that maybe, just maybe, it was Stacy—and I was right.

Now Coach is shouting at me from the sideline to resume my drills with the rest of the team, and I will, but not before I quickly fire off my own text inviting Stacy over for dinner at my place on Monday night. It’s the only day I don’t have practice, and I need plenty of time to make sure everything is perfect.

* * *

Now that Monday has arrived however, I feel even less prepared than I did before I stocked the shelves and made sure the pantry had everything a six-year-old and an adult man could want.

We have everything from fun snacks to canned goods to protein powder. I organized it too, placing the cookies and sweets up high so they weren’t in free range of the kiddo and healthy snacks on the bottom rack. Ryan still has to ask permission before diving into the pantry, but at least the food right in front of his face is nutritious.

The organization of the pantry was something I picked up from the stack of half-read parenting magazines on the coffee table. I’m making my way through the magazines and books, highlighting important information and earmarking pages. But I have other pressing research to do.

I’m slightly terrified to meet Stacy’s friends at the charity event.

I know nothing about them other than the small things she mentions every now and then. She clearly adores the two girls who were her roommates, and I want them to adore me too. I know that’s important to Stacy. I know one of the girls is dating Donovan Dunn, whose name I’ve heard a thousand times on television and radio. He’s some huge business mogul running one of the most esteemed advertising firms in the country. It’s his company hosting the event that we’re going to.

I take a deep breath and try to remind myself that these girls, if they’re anywhere near as remarkable as Stacy, are going to be awesome. I'm sure Stacy would only surround herself with people who are just as kind and special as she is. Besides, I thrive under pressure. My entire career feeds off that.

This will be no different than getting ready for a big game. I’ll jog a bit beforehand to clear my mind, do some breathing exercises, and then I’ll charm the pants off everyone at the event. Not literally of course.

I didn't particularly want our first date to be such a public affair, but with Stacy, I’ll take what I can get. It’s also why I organized tonight’s dinner.

I’m hoping it’ll take some of the pressure off the charity event. I'm not even sure if she means for us to attend the event as a couple, but I’m optimistic. Hopefully, tonight will give me some more time to feel her out and make my own intentions clear.

I’m not gonna lie. I’m nervous as hell.

My hands are shaking but I’m doing my best to disguise my nerves for Ryan’s sake. He’s having fun helping me prepare. I think it’s important to show the little man the right way to impress a special lady. We’ve even lit candles which flicker along the bar.

I'm not sure how aware the six-year-old is of the intricacies of the evening, but I can tell he wants to impress Stacy, too.

He stands at the sink on a little stepstool covered in tiger stickers, carefully shredding lettuce into a salad spinner. He hates salad, but he’s giving it his all right now.

“Does Stacy even like cocoa vine?” he asks abruptly, turning toward me. The apron I got him matches mine, but his has ‘Little Hartbreaker’ stitched across the chest.

“Coq au vin!” I correct him, even though I have no idea if I'm saying the French phrase right.

It’s one of the highlighted recipes from the cooking magazine I’ve been flipping through over the last few days. I have no clue what I’m doing and the recipe might as well have been written in French just like the name, but I’m trying to show Stacy just how much I want to change and how much effort I’m willing to put in.

The chicken and wine dish is in the oven now, though the smell is kind of strange and I'm not sure how good it’s going to be.

“That’s what I said,” Ryan giggles. “Cocoa vine!”

When the doorbell rings, the little boy gives a squeal and leaps off the stool.

“I’ll get it!” he cries, rushing over to swing open the door before I can even take a step in that direction.

“Hi, Stacy!” he gushes. “We’re cooking!”

“I can smell it from the hall! You guys must be working hard!”

“We’ve been in the kitchen all day,” he accentuates the words with a roll of his eyes and pads after Stacy as she walks in. She sets down her bag and slides onto a barstool, inhaling the fragrance of chopped veggies and cooking chicken.

“Hey,” I say softly. I'm not sure if she’ll let me walk over and hug her so I just stand by the stove awkwardly instead.

“Hey, yourself,” she answers with a faint smile.

Her cheeks are rosy and I'm so happy just to see her again that my heart feels like it’s going to burst from my chest. Her expression, however, isn’t quite what I would’ve expected. Her nose crinkles, head tilting.

I'm glad now I didn't try to hug her.

“Um . . . Jake, is it supposed to be smoking like that?” she asks, nodding her head toward the oven behind me.

“Jake made cocoa vine, Stacy! And I made a salad,” Ryan says proudly as he strides back into the kitchen.

Stacy gently grabs his shoulders, stopping him from entering.

“It’s French,” I say with a knowing smile. “I’m guessing the smell is supposed to be exotic.”

“Exotic is one thing, but I think burnt food is the same across all cultures,” she offers with a smirk.

Gulping, I bend down and pull open the stove as smoke rolls out in thick black waves.

I groan and flip on the vent over the stove while she rushes around the apartment, pulling open windows so the smoke can escape.

Twenty minutes later, the smoke alarms are silent and we can finally see each other again, though the smell of smoke still lingers.

“Is it ruined?” Ryan asks, disappointment etched on his face.

I look into the black, burnt crusty bits in the pan and nod, my heart falling. There’s no way we can eat this. I turn to Stacy, expecting her to be preparing to leave after seeing this failure of mine, but she’s still grinning from ear-to-ear, trying not to laugh.

“This isn’t funny,” I grump, but I can already feel a smirk tugging at my lips.

It’s impossible not to smile when Stacy smiles at you.

“It’s kinda funny.” She winks. “When I was Ryan’s age, I tried to make grilled cheese on my own for the first time and nearly burnt down our house,” muses the beautiful brunette.

“What?” cries Ryan, “but you’re such a good cook!”

She nods and grins at him. “Because I took the time to learn. Nobody starts out doing something perfect the first time. Right, Jake?” she says, wiggling her eyebrows at me and gesturing her head toward my distraught nephew.

“That’s right, kid. When I first started playing football, I could barely catch the ball at all. It took me a long, long time and a ton of practice to get where I am today.”

“Wow . . .” Ryan muses, his brow crinkling thoughtfully.

“Practice makes perfect, so how about we practice together?” Stacy offers, pushing up both of her sleeves and walking around to the kitchen. “We’ve still got your salad, Ryan, so all we need is something tasty to go with it.”

“Grilled cheese!” Ryan cries, clapping his hands together. “Just like you made the first time you were cooking, Stacy!”

Stacy turns toward me, grinning. “Does that sound good?”

Anything prepared by Stacy sounds amazing, and between the three of us, hopefully we can keep the apartment in one piece without the fire department showing up.

“That sounds perfect,” I answer.

“Then let’s get to work. Together,” she says, her eyes locked on mine.

I swallow hard and nod in agreement, wondering if she can hear my heart beating out of my chest.

Chapter 16

Stacy

“So now we add butter to the frying pan . . .” I demonstrate, tossing a thick chunk of golden fat right into the brand-new pan that Jake lightly rocks back and forth on the burner.

The delicious fragrance of melting butter instantly makes all three of us sigh.

Jake’s eyebrows are furrowed in concentration while he watches me like he’s trapped in a cooking show competition with the clock running down instead of his own home. I’ve never seen him look so focused before, but Ryan is loving every second of it.

Grilled cheese may not be coq au vin, but it’s going to be delicious, especially after I help them whip up some super quick and easy tomato soup as well. We’ve already blended up fresh tomatoes, garlic and herbs and started it simmering on another burner.

“Did I do the salad right?” Ryan asks, taking my hand and dragging me back to the kitchen counter where shredded lettuce and grape tomatoes sit in a big bowl.

“Oh, yum, that looks like a perfect salad!” I tell him with a big grin.

Ryan is glowing. He bounces around the kitchen, chattering nonstop. His little face is almost bursting with happiness. I’ve seen the change in him in the classroom this week as well. He’s starting to come out of his shell a little, choosing to interact a bit more with the other kids and even frequently raising his hand to answer questions.

The changes are practically night and day. Jake has made some really tremendous positive changes for the boy too.

The apartment looks all but brand new. It’s still just as clean as it’d been when I was last here, but some of the furniture has been replaced, making it look much more inviting and homier. And Ryan was right about the big bookcase, fully stocked with books for kids and adults alike. He made sure I saw it before we attempted dinner again.

Jake even apparently traded in his huge television for a slightly smaller one so that the bookcase would have more room. It made my heart swell to see how much he’d taken my words to heart.

I glance over my shoulder, checking on Jake who’s now resting two pieces of bread in the skillet while he’s hard at work shredding cheese. The sandwiches are going to be extra delicious because Jake has just about every type of cheese under the sun in his fridge. He may have gone a little overboard, but in my opinion, one can never have too much cheese.

He catches me watching him and slowly smiles, taking in Ryan and I standing together. The way he’s looking at me makes me blush and I focus back on Ryan, who’s rambling on about how Jake told him to add spinach to the salad because it has iron and vitamins in it that will make him super strong.

“Stacy?” the boy says as he grabs a grape tomato and rolls it between his fingers until it squishes and splatters red juice on his palm. He inspects it for a moment before swallowing the smooshed red fruit whole. “Are you having fun?”

I lean closer, hands on my knees. “The most fun,” I promise him with a smile.

I'm not just entertaining a little boy’s need for validation. I mean the words I'm saying. This past hour has been so much fun dancing around the kitchen and goofing off with both Ryan and Jake.

“Then can we do this every day?” he presses hopefully, his little eyes sparkling. “You and me and Uncle Jake? Can we cook like this all the time?”

The request is heart-meltingly sweet. I lower myself to his level, taking his small hands in mine. “You know you don’t have to use me as an excuse to cook with your uncle, right? You two can have just as much fun together as when I'm here. I bet you can even find cooking classes to take together.”

“Really?” he gasps, turning toward Jake who’s plating the sandwiches. “Can we?”

“You got it, kiddo. Tomorrow morning I’ll find us some to do together. But right now, let’s eat!”

Laughing, we grab our plates and load up with soup, sandwiches, and salad, and settle down around the new dining room table that Jake got to replace the gaming chairs.

“This is amazing,” I moan, closing my eyes as I savor the cheesy sandwiches.

The boys grunt in agreement and we eat in silence, too busy enjoying each other’s company and meals to speak.

When the food has been scarfed down, Ryan begins yawning even though I can tell he’s struggling to stay awake. His eyelids droop more and more until Jake has to all but prop him up so he doesn’t pass out in his tomato soup.

“I’ll just get him tucked in really quick,” Jake says, standing to lift the child into his strong arms.

I nod and watch them trundle off together before collecting the dishes and heading to the sink to wash them. Over the flow of warm, running water, I hear Jake’s voice rumbling from Ryan’s open door. I glance over, catching sight of Jake’s massive, muscled body bent over Ryan’s small bed. The boy is still barely managing to keep his eyes open, watching Jake read from a storybook.

“And then the wolf said, ‘and I’ll huff and I’ll puff!’” Jake reads, his voice perfectly deep for the wolf and high-pitched for the little pigs.

I'm so enraptured by the scene that I can barely focus on the dishes. Ryan’s request rings in my ears. How beautiful it would be to do this every day?

Jake is such a tough and burly guy with such a gentle heart, a heart that I'm beginning to love.

Love?

Really?

I slam off the faucet, swallowing hard.

Am I truly falling for Jake Eckhart—The Hartbreak Kid?

Ryan’s tired voice slips through the doorway. “I like having Stacy here, Uncle Jake. It makes me miss Mom less.”

Jake smooths his hand over Ryan’s forehead. “Me too, buddy. Me too.” I watch Jake stiffly wipe his eyes. “Stacy’s pretty great, huh?”

“The greatest,” Ryan answers with a yawn.

Tears bloom in my eyes. It’s impossible to fight the fact that I have feelings for the man in that room. And I care deeply for Ryan too. But what if we start seeing one another and things go south?

Will everyone just end up even more hurt in the end?

That’s the last thing I want.

* * *

“Want some wine?” Jake asks softly as he walks behind me, Ryan’s bedroom door now closed.

“Yes,” I answer instantly, gulping down a healthy sip of the crimson cabernet he pours before following him to the couch.

We sink down together, each on opposite ends. We stare at one another, while my mind reels.

“Thanks for cleaning up,” Jake says looking completely relaxed with a wine glass perched in his strong hands.

I clear my throat. “You cooked. It’s only fair. Next time you’ll be on dish duty.”

“Next time?” he asks, the faintest glimmer of hope rising in those beautiful chocolate eyes of his.

I just blush and distract myself with my drink.

He scoots forward, setting his wine glass down. The couch, large and cozy, feels suddenly small as he gets closer. I watch the space between us disappear, unable to convince myself to put any distance between us. All I truly want is to be in his arms.

“I appreciate what you’ve done for me and Ryan so much, Stacy. I don’t think I can ever make that as clear as I want to. Seeing Ryan smile, actually smile . . . I almost thought neither of us would smile again after the year we’ve had.”

“You two have both come a long way,” I answer softly.

“Thanks.” His smoldering gaze makes my pulse race.

I gulp down another sip of wine as a charged silence stretches between us.

Jake breaks it first.

“I’ve got to admit I'm nervous about this charity event. I want to make a good impression on your friends, so they know I'm good enough for you.” He cracks a sideways grin, one that makes my heart flutter.

It's hard to believe the confident, flirty football star would actually be nervous about something. His posture is the picture of ease, one arm draped over the back of the couch, his fingers dangerously close to my shoulder.

“Believe me, they’ll love you,” I whisper as he sidles closer.

One of his fingers brushes the nape of my neck. This time, I move toward him.

He pulls me against him. “Then they’ll be easier to impress than you are,” he cracks. “You make me work for your attention something fierce.”

“Who says you get to stop now?” I murmur, tilting my head to grin at him.

In the dim light of the apartment, he smirks back. Then, slowly, as though he’s giving me ample time to change my mind, he cups my face in his hand. His thumb drifts lazily back and forth over my jaw, but I have no intention of pulling away.

I simply can’t. Not anymore. There’s no resisting him now.

His mouth descends on mine, his tongue sweeping the curve of my lower lip, and I finally give in to everything that I’ve been longing for since meeting him. He dips me backwards so that he can deepen the kiss, clutching me against him as though any amount of space is unbearable.

Sparks fly, every hair on my body standing on electric edge, as our lips move in perfect time.

In his arms, all of my doubts and fears fade away.

With a kiss this perfect, how could we not work out?

Chapter 17

Jake

The suit hangs in my closet, freshly pressed and ironed. I’ve seen to it that it’s perfectly tailored, too. For Stacy’s friends, I'm going all out.

Time seemed to stand still while I waited for this day to finally arrive. But now I’ve only got about two hours before Ryan and I head out to pick Stacy up. She hasn't told me the dress code for the event, but I’m a firm believer that you can never look too sharp for something.

Plus, I know the media is going to be there and my image needs some desperate rehab since the night of the party and Ryan’s outburst.

Fortunately, things have been looking up in that regard. The soccer club implemented some basic security at the field to keep the paparazzi far away. I also released a statement to the press making them understand that my focus and priority is always on my nephew, so he doesn’t feel ignored. I asked them to please grant some leniency and not photograph me when he’s present. So far, they’ve been pretty respectful.

Stacy’s also done an amazing job helping me explain to Ryan why it sometimes feels like other people want to steal my attention. It’s still a little too complicated for the six-year-old to comprehend, but at least now he grasps why the media shows up at places while we’re out. He also understands that if he ever tells me he’s uncomfortable with the crowd, we will immediately remove ourselves.

That being said, Ryan has become quite taken with the cameras. Now he loves posing and making funny faces while I politely wave on our way to the soccer field.

I walk over to the window of my bedroom, listening to the little thumps of Ryan’s room through the wall. He’s already getting dressed for the event. The kid is possibly more excited than I am, though that’s partially because he heard there’s going to be dogs present.

The sun is fading over the horizon, making the buildings glow with golden light. It fills me with sudden excitement.

I can’t wait to see Stacy again.

My fingers lift, brushing over my lips. Sometimes, I swear I can still feel her there, her body nestled gently against mine.

She’s been reserved ever since our kiss, not allowing me to kiss her again even though I’m dying to. I get it. She doesn't want to accidentally let Ryan catch a peek of the intimate behavior. He’d have questions and Stacy isn’t sure he’s ready for his uncle and his teacher to be dating.

Plus, she’s not sure she’s ready to make whatever we are official.

Taking things slowly and figuring us out step-by-step is important to Stacy, so I'm doing my best to respect that. But I’m not called The Hartbreak Kid for nothing. I'm definitely not used to taking things slow in a romantic sense. I'm used to jumping in with both feet and letting the cards fall how they may.

But she’s right. Now that I’ve got a little man in the mix, his needs are more important than my desires.

So, for Stacy and for Ryan, the two people who mean the most to me, I'm going to do things right. And if that means letting let Stacy take our relationship at her own pace, so be it.

I already know how I feel. I’m certain that Stacy is the one for me. I want to lay all my cards on the table, but I also don’t want to overwhelm her.

She’s all I crave, all I want, all I need. But I'm biding my time with the most patience I can muster. Besides, the best things in life are worth waiting for, right?

Our kiss certainly was. For me, it was earth-shattering. I’ve kissed my fair share of women, but I’ve never felt anything like the explosion of emotion that burst inside of me that first second our lips touched.

For a sweet prep school teacher, that woman sure knows how to lay it on a man. I shiver, sinking down on the corner of my bed, still thinking about our kiss. It was so hard to walk her to the door after. I’d have done just about anything to sweep her off her feet and carry her back to my bedroom, but she’d made it clear that she wasn’t ready to spend the night yet.

I’ve been riding a high ever since, seeing her beautiful face every time I close my eyes. Stacy’s even come to haunt my dreams, always staying just out of reach even though her ethereal presence is comforting and warm.

What means even more to me is that Ryan talks about her all the time now, too. He comes home from school saying how much fun he had and what projects he’s working on, and at his soccer practices I’ve noticed how his eyes always seek out Stacy beside me. Even though I cleared my schedule so I can always be at his practices, Stacy still joins us both to cheer him on.

I know Ryan loves that.

He’s finally acting like a little kid again, as if he can finally view the world through those rose-colored lenses of childhood instead of the dull, gray ones of pure grief.

And that’s all because of Stacy.

I glance out the window again, eyes catching on a sole puff of white cloud nestled just above the falling sun. I'm sure that’s where Jenny is seated now, eager to watch the festivities of the evening. She’d have loved going to an event like this.

“It was you, wasn’t it, Jen?” I ask softly, a smile lifting my cheeks as I watch the cloud glow pink in the fading sunlight. “You were the one who brought Stacy into our lives?”

I hold my breath as if I'm waiting for an answer and then shake my head. Of course, it was Jenny. She’s still looking out for Ryan and me no matter where she is.

I glance at my watch again, stomach dropping when I see the time. I’ve got to finish getting ready if I'm going to pick up Stacy on time. I can’t very well be late the first time I meet her friends.

My stomach is in knots as I finish getting dressed. I’ve never been this nervous, not even when I played in my first Super Bowl. I just keep thinking that I won’t be good enough for her friends or that they’ll be convinced I'm a bad guy because of how the media has portrayed me.

Oh god, what if they’re not fans of my team? What if we’re rivals?

New Yorkers are fanatical about their sports teams . . . I stop myself, lightly tapping my palms against my cheeks to stop my mind from running away on me.

There are no coincidences, there are no what if’s, there is only what’s happened and what will happen. We can’t change the past, but we can mold the future. Jenny used to love saying that to me, and now I know what that phrase really means.

I want Stacy in my life forever. I want her to know how special she is and how cherished she is by me and Ryan.

All I need is the right time to say so.

Chapter 18

Stacy

Ryan stays close to Jake’s side, his wide eyes taking in everything around him. Every time a nearby dog barks, he turns around to gaze adoringly at whatever fluffy creature has caught his eye.

The two Eckhart boys are a total vision—black, tailored suits and bright purple ties that Ryan has proudly picked out himself. They’re so delightfully adorable I can hardly concentrate on any of the other conversations going on around me.

Jake has been on his best behavior since picking me up in a limo he ordered at Ryan’s request, even stopping at the entrance of the event to take pictures with some of his fans and sign some autographs before heading in.

Ryan had waited patiently, occasionally pulling silly faces when he was caught in the frame of a flashing camera. Since Jake had promised Ryan to keep his interactions with the media minimal while his nephew was in his company, Ryan had become a lot more tolerant of sharing his uncle. The two were finally beginning to find that long-sought balance.

Standing in my circle of friends, Jake fits in perfectly. Well, metaphorically at least.

He’s a good head taller than even Donovan, who’s no slouch, and his massive frame dwarfs everyone else in the building. But I certainly don’t mind. I sort of love how Jake makes me feel dainty and delicate.

Even though I can tell Jake was nervous at first, now he’s grinning and laughing like he’s known my roommates and their boyfriend’s all their lives. He doesn’t even seem to mind the way Eric is gazing at him with adoring eyes. Jake’s much too wrapped up in a conversation with Donovan about how he can enlist his advertising services to change his image to notice Eric’s star-struck admiration.

“Maybe it’s time I settle and stop being The Hartbreak Kid, ya know?” Jake says, tucking Donovan’s card into his shirt pocket. “I'm ready for something more family friendly. Something Ryan can be proud of.”

Donovan and Chloe give each other one of those couple-y looks that Morgan and Eric do so well, though the one exchanged between the business power couple is one of mutual respect. Jake is nothing like what they expected, and it makes me swell with pride.

“Maybe you can get us a discount on tickets to your next game?” Eric asks, still following Jake around like he’s one of the puppies up for adoption.

Morgan, who’s been giggling while watching her awestruck boyfriend, flushes and jabs his ribs. “We can buy our own tickets, Eric!”

But Jake laughs and shakes his head. “Are you kidding? Friends of Stacy’s are friends of mine, and I never make friends pay to cheer me on. Just tell me what name to put the tickets under.”

“Eric King!” Eric replies immediately.

Jake pauses, his head tilting as he stares at Eric. “Oh, no way! Eric King? As in Social Kingdom’s lead singer? I literally just bought your last album to get me through my workouts.”

“You know me?” Eric gasps, blushing an even deeper red than Morgan’s lipstick.

“Are you kidding? My teammates and I blast your music in the weight room all the time. Hey, how would you feel about performing for one of our home games?”

Morgan and Donovan both reach instantly toward Eric, who suddenly sways on his feet like he’s been struck over the head by a bat. Morgan and Donovan smirk at one another, rolling their eyes while Chloe and I chuckle.

Eric manages to recover his balance and find his words. “That would be . . . oh, man . . . are you serious? That would be a dream come true,” he stammers.

Jake nods eagerly. “I’ve got a few friends who owe me one. I’ll get the booking agent to contact you next month to arrange a performance. When we get the show set up, you should all come along.” The football star smiles at everyone, but his eyes linger on me.

“That sounds great,” I say softly, giving his muscled arm a squeeze.

His entire face softens as he gets my approval, but then Ryan is tugging at his hand.

“Uncle Jake! The puppies, we have to go check them out!”

“You got it, kiddo,” Jake answers, his eyes lingering on me for a moment longer as the six-year-old drags him away.

Summer and Cooper, the couple who run the pet store, greet Jake and Ryan and start introducing them to the available puppies while the rest of us look on.

The event is a smash hit and I can tell Donovan is thrilled to have a huge name like Jake Eckhart drawing press to the grand opening of the store. The catering is exceptional, and everyone looks like they’re having the time of their lives. Not to mention a ton of pets have been adopted.

It’s a great night for everyone.

I train my eyes back on the Eckhart boys. No matter which way Ryan scurries, Jake is close behind him. They take turns cradling puppies and having their faces licked, not caring that their expensive, matching suits are now generously covered in dog fur.

“Can we get a puppy, Uncle Jake?” Ryan pleads, holding a golden retriever pup in his arms.

How Jake is looking into the pleading eyes of both boy and puppy and shaking his head, I’ll never know.

“Not today, kiddo. A puppy is a huge commitment that takes a lot of planning . . .” He pauses, watching Ryan’s face fall. “But if you keep your grades up and keep working hard at soccer too then we can make getting a puppy a goal of ours. Deal?”

“Deal!” Ryan squeals, throwing his arms around Jake.

The pair laugh together and I keep watching while my whole heart melts into a puddle of love.

Oh Lord, they are just so sweet.

To think when I met them that the once strained relationship of theirs would have bloomed into something so magnificent fills me with joy.

And there’s a part of me that knows I helped them come to this.

In my own way, I did what I know how to do best, which is helping people. It’s all I’ve ever really wanted to do. Even without me in the picture, Ryan and Jake are going to be just fine. They’ll be more than fine, really. They’ll absolutely thrive. They’re both coming to terms with their grief and Jake has truly stepped into the shoes of a father figure.

I press one hand over my heart, trying to quell the emotions that threaten to overwhelm me. The thought of their future without me in it is almost painful.

“You should see the look on your face right now,” Morgan whispers in my ear, lacing her arm with mine and patting my hand.

I blush and shrug. “What do you mean?”

“Girl, you are head over heels for that man over there. And I saw the way he was looking at you too.”

Chloe joins us, standing at my other side so that I'm sandwiched between my two best friends.

“Seeing him in person is something else, Stacy,” Chloe says quietly. “He’s nothing like I expected. You’re good together. All of you.”

I don’t answer, biting my lip.

Could we really be a family someday? Would Jake want that? Would Ryan?

Morgan rests her head on top of mine, giving a little sigh. “You know when you talked about him at girls’ night, I thought you were out of your mind. That he was going to break your heart. But seeing the way you three are together . . . it makes me trust your opinion in him even more. Jake is a stellar guy. I can see that now.”

I gaze up at her, eyes watering, and then look to Chloe.

Chloe nods and then offers a kind smile. “Don’t hesitate any more than you already have, Stacy. Grab hold of the reins with both hands and hang on tight. You’ll be in for a wild, beautiful ride and you deserve it more than anyone I know.”

Chapter 19

Jake

The scent of sugar and vanilla is thick in the air as we step into the cute little bakery. The glowing Holly Cakes sign along with the intoxicating aroma drew us in on our walk home.

We ditched the limo after taking it to the charity event, choosing instead to stroll back on our own. The night is so beautiful and Stacy looks so cozy wrapped up in my coat. It was my idea to reward Ryan after his good behavior at the event with cupcakes and Stacy had eagerly agreed.

Now that we’re inside the bakery, my stomach rumbles with anticipation.

“Hi, guys! Don’t you look fancy!” says a red-haired woman from behind the counter.

Holly, her nametag reads. Her smile is as sugary as the sweets she bakes. She leans forward on her elbows as Ryan rushes up to her.

“We’re getting cupcakes!” he announces with a grin. “And a puppy too, in a while!”

“Well, then I have the perfect cupcakes for you,” the baker answers, swiping at her cheek and leaving a streak of pink icing behind as she shuffles a few small desserts into a box and then sets them on the counter for Ryan to see.

The little boy gasps in delight, turning toward us. “Look! They’re decorated like puppies!”

“Your son is adorable,” the baker says softly as Stacy and I approach the counter to pay. Stacy blushes and I chuckle.

“He’s not our son, he’s my nephew, but thanks.”

Holly turns as pink as the icing on her cheek. “Oh my! I'm so sorry. He just looks so much like you.” She pauses, as a wistful look takes over her face. “You two would make beautiful babies.”

“Babe,” calls a man behind the counter. “Leave the nice people alone with your baby talk.”

Holly’s whole face lights up when she grins at him. I know that look. It’s how I feel when I look at Stacy.

“Bash, but you know I can’t help myself,” Holly says with a laugh.

The man—Bash—comes up behind Holly and wraps his arms around her waist lovingly. “Just because you’ve got baby fever doesn’t mean the rest of the world does.”

“But they would have beautiful babies,” Holly insists.

“Eww,” Ryan cries. “Gross. We don’t want any babies. Just cupcakes.”

After I pay, we hurry from the bakery, laughter bubbling boisterously from me. It’s mostly due to Stacy’s incessant blushing. She looks like she wants to dissolve into the sidewalk.

“Stop,” she grumps.

“What? I think we’d make cute babies, too.”

Stacy’s face glows five shades brighter. Her mouth hangs open in shock but before she can say anything, Ryan is excitedly tugging on our arms.

“Do we have to wait until we get home to eat these?” he asks, his mouth watering at the sight of the treats.

“I don’t see why we can’t dig in here,” I answer with a grin, passing us each a cupcake after Ryan claims the white and dark chocolate spotted dalmatian one for himself.

And now I can’t wipe the smile off my face, because watching Stacy lick frosting off her fingers is possibly the most beautiful thing ever—besides our babies of course.

“What?” Stacy asks catching my grin.

“Nothing,” I say. But really . . . it’s everything.

* * *

By the time we get back to the penthouse suite, Ryan’s sugar high is a sugar crash. He was barely conscious while Stacy and I got him to brush his teeth and put on his PJs. We finally managed to get him into bed, but as Stacy started to the couch to wait for me to finish tucking Ryan in, he’d begged her to stay and read him a story with me.

Just before dozing off, Ryan had reached up, requesting one last hug from the two of us, and then we escaped out into the living room after closing his door.

Being with Stacy makes everything seem so clear. I never thought I’d want to settle down and have this domestic kind of life, but with her it all feels right. I can imagine rushing home to them after football. I can picture us all together every weekend playing board games in the living room or strolling through the park together. She makes my heart feel whole, patching up the wound left by my sister’s sudden death.

I can see that she helps Ryan as well.

Being with Stacy is like being a whole family again.

“Did you have fun tonight?” I ask as we ease onto the couch.

She curls up against me, one arm draped around my waist, her head on my shoulder. We’re facing Ryan’s room so we can see the door crack open if he needs us. His comfort is still my highest priority.

“Oh, Jake . . . I had the most amazing time.” Stacy sits up suddenly to look me in the eye. “I am so proud of you. I loved seeing you and Ryan together at the event and you handled yourself so well. I knew my friends would love you but you totally swept them off their feet. But most impressive was the way you handled Ryan. You’re like a pro parent!”

I laugh, basking in her praise. Approval means the most when it comes from her. “You mean the dog thing? I was worried I was handling that wrong by saying we could make it a future goal.”

She shakes her head with earnest. “No. That was perfect. I think you two would be great with a dog if you keep continuing as you have been lately.”

“I really thought for a minute I screwed up by promising him something like that. It just kind of spilled out of me. I mean, did you see those eyes of his? They lit up!”

She laughs and nods in agreement. “I definitely saw those eyes and you did great. When you made that decision, you were speaking from the heart. You can’t screw up if you're using that as your compass. It won’t lead you wrong. Not as a parent.”

I bite my lip, my heart suddenly thudding against my ribs. “I'm glad you feel that way, Stacy, because my heart has been guiding me in a certain direction for a while.”

“Oh?” she asks with a quizzical tilt of her head that makes her brown curls tumble over her shoulder.

I nod and brush a stray curl from her cheek. “Being near you just makes me feel so alive. I feel like I can be my best self when you’re close to me. I want to spend as much time as I can with you. Always. Will you stay the night with me, Stacy?”

She sucks in a quiet breath, her eyes rounding.

“Jake . . .” she pauses, averting her eyes, and then shyly looking back at me. “I want that. I really do. But things are going so well between us and with Ryan. I don’t want to mess that up. If I'm here one morning and not the next, Ryan may get confused. How would we explain that to him?”

I edge closer, cupping her chin. “Then be here every morning, Stacy.” I let the words hang between us, desperate for them to sink in. “You don’t ever have to leave. I want this to be your home as much as it’s mine and Ryan’s . . . if that’s what you want, too.”

She gazes at me, then slides her arms around my neck and closes the distance between us. Our lips crash together, gentle at first and then growing in intensity. I feel the same yearning for me that I have for her in the way she kisses me now.

We part only to come up for air. Stacy breathlessly smiles at me before pressing her forehead to mine. We hold one another, memorizing the wonderful feeling of being in each other’s arms.

“Not yet,” she finally says, pressing a kiss against my forehead. “But we can make that our future goal.”

I smirk as she uses my own words against me. I fall back against the couch with a groan, though not before stealing another tender kiss.

She can take as much time as she needs to be ready for our relationship, but I’ve suddenly begun to realize just how I can prove to Stacy that she’s the only girl in the world for me. All I need to do is pull the trigger and get this plan in motion.

Even as I walk her to the door and give her one last kiss goodbye, my veins simmer with excitement. Watching her leave is difficult but hopefully I won’t have to do it for long.

I'm excited, not just at seeing her again, but for the future. I'm more excited than I’ve been in a long, long time.

Chapter 20

Stacy

Ryan’s hand is small but warm in mine as he pulls me in every other direction like an untrained puppy on a leash. I laugh, dragging him back to me so I can fix his Hartbreaker cap.

“He is so adorable, Stacy!” Morgan gushes as we wind our way through the crowd of football fans. She takes Ryan’s other hand and we swing the six-year-old between us until he’s laughing breathlessly.

After a few minutes she shoots a look toward Eric, a sly grin on her beautiful face. “When are we going to make one of these cuties?” she teases.

Eric smirks and grabs her, planting a deep kiss on her lips. “You just say the word, babe. Let’s both hope it gets your looks though.”

Morgan giggles in delight and playfully swats at him.

She and Eric walk on one side of Ryan and me, while Chloe and Donovan amble along nearby. The throngs of people waiting to get into the game are thick and impatient, but we’ve got special passes into the stadium so we’re in no hurry. We take our time inspecting the vendors and merchandise, though Jake has already purchased us all the fan gear we could ever need.

A few weeks have passed since the night of the charity event and things between Jake and me have been going great.

He’s gotten us special tickets for his home games, and though Eric’s band isn’t performing this time around, they’ve already set a date for that later on in the season. Eric is ecstatic! Even though he’s been on tours across the world, playing for his favorite home team is Eric’s dream come true.

I can relate . . . Jake Eckhart is pretty dreamy.

Though I’m still not spending the night at Jake’s place, I’m spending more and more time there.

Ryan, the smart little guy he is, didn't take long to figure out that there were sparks flying between me and his uncle. He eventually asked if we were dating, and Jake and I shared one of those sweet little glances I’d always envied before nodding simultaneously. Ryan had been thrilled. He’d thrown his arms around the both of us and held on tight, saying that he’d been wishing on every star in the night sky for me to join their family.

I bawled like a baby.

Ever since, we’d all been inseparable. I don’t know if it was fate or Ryan’s starlight wishes, but whatever brought us together had been nothing short of magic.

As if reading my mind, Ryan looks at me over his shoulder, his entire face beaming with joy. Though Jake had said Ryan didn't like football, after starting soccer the athletic boy seemed to have a newfound appreciation for the sport. Coming to Jake’s games are all he talks about.

“I can’t wait to see Jake play!” Ryan says excitedly as we’re escorted to our seats.

We’re so close to the field that I can smell earth upturned by cleats.

Jake, who’s warming up on the field, turns and greets us with a wave. We all wave back and even though Ryan’s seat is beside mine, he climbs up into my lap. I hug him against my chest, my heart so happy it could burst. I always knew I wanted to be a mom, but I never knew I could love a child this much so quickly.

As the players take their places on the field, we cheer and clap in time with the crowd.

The game is an amazing one, and Jake seems to fly across the field. He weaves between the opposing team, scrambling and jumping to catch the ball whenever he’s targeted by the quarterback. The entire team seems to be able to read one another’s minds. It’s an amazing sight to behold. I wish at that moment I’d gotten into football a little earlier. I’m still learning all the rules, but there’s no doubt that it’s both thrilling and entertaining. Though I’m not sure I like how my heart leaps into my throat every time someone tackles my man.

Ryan and I jump up and down every time Jake catches the ball, our voices almost gone by the time there’s only ten seconds left on the clock. The score is tied and you can hear a pin drop as everyone holds their breath for a final play.

At the last second possible, the quarterback rockets the ball in a desperate Hail Mary pass across the field. Out of nowhere, Jake seems to appear, outpacing the other players. He leaps what feels like an impossible distance into the air, hands closing around the ball as he falls into the end zone with ease. He leaps to his feet, holding the ball high above his head in celebration of the winning touchdown.

The crowd instantly goes crazy, chanting Jake’s name as the referees announce the play is good and Jake’s team wins the game.

We all cheer, thrilled at the dramatic ending of the game. I finally sink breathlessly into my seat, my voice hoarse from celebrating with my friends. Eric leans over to give me a high-five. Even Morgan, who hates sports, was on the edge of her seat the entire time.

“With three touchdowns and the most receiving yards, let’s give a big hand to this game’s MVP, Jacob Eckhart!” the announcer calls as he walks toward the center of the field.

Jake bounds over to accept his award and shake the man’s hand, waving again at the crowd as they chant ‘Hartbreak Kid’ over and over again.

“Want to say something, Jake?” the man offers, handing over the mic to my tight end.

Jake pants and takes a second to catch his breath, still winded from his hard-played game. I can see his shoulders rising and falling from here, delight sparkling in his eyes. Ryan again climbs into my lap, hugging me.

“When I'm a soccer star like Jake will you guys watch me play?” the little boy asks eagerly.

“You bet we will!” answers Morgan, leaning over to pinch Ryan’s cheek.

“Thanks for coming out to see us, everyone,” Jake says into the mic. “We always love the support of our fans. It makes the game worth playing and it keeps our spirits up.” He scans the crowd, finding us watching him; his grin widens. “But there are two people here tonight that make me want to play with all my heart, and that’s because the pair of them are my heart. Ryan, I love you, kiddo, and Stacy . . . I love you more than I can ever express. You both make me the best version of myself.”

I straighten in my chair, tears blossoming in my eyes. I swipe them away even as they streak down my cheeks. Hearing him say that makes my heart want to burst.

Jake walks over toward us while carrying the mic until he’s standing just beyond the railing of the field. I stand up, still holding Ryan, and we both stare down at Jake.

Jake beams from ear-to-ear, gazing right back at us. “Stacy, I want you to be a permanent fixture in my and Ryan’s lives. What I want . . .” he blows out an excited breath. “What I want is to marry you. It would make me the luckiest damn man in the entire world, to call you my own. I want to call you my wife. What do ya say?”

Again, the stands go wild. In the flurry of their excitement, I just stand there. I could pinch myself, I'm so sure that I'm dreaming.

The only thing that brings me back to reality is Ryan wriggling free of my hold and dropping to the ground. He pulls on my hand, his eyes huge and urgent. “Well, Stacy?” he cries. “Are you going to marry my uncle?”

“Yes!” I shriek, grabbing Ryan’s hand in mine and taking off down the short set of stairs to the field.

Ryan follows me, shrieking with joy the entire time, as the pair of us leap into Jake’s waiting arms. He crushes us against him and then pulls me against his chest so that he can kiss me deeply.

Everything else ceases to exist, fading away as I hold Ryan and Jake close to me and drink in Jake’s tender kiss.

“Well folks, there you have it,” the announcer says. “Hearts are breaking everywhere. The Hartbreak Kid is off the market!”

I cling to Jake’s strong body, and gaze into his eyes. “I love you, Jake Eckhart,” I whisper firmly, punctuating the claim with a kiss.

“And I love you, Stacy. Forever and always.”

“And I love both of you!” Ryan squeals, diving between us so that he’s swallowed by both of our arms. Jake and I plant kisses on either one of the boy’s cheeks, grinning at each other the entire time.

I’d been longing for my own happily ever after for a long time, but it seems it found me just when I’d stopped looking.

Epilogue

Jake

I lean down, sweeping my hands over the tops of my cleats, then straighten back up to stretch my arms over my head. I press my fingers against my neck, checking my heart rate, and then start to jog in place.

From the warm up tunnel, I can hear the familiar thrum of guitars and drums beating in perfect time as Eric’s voice ripples across the field. He’s giving it his all and the crowd is totally loving it.

The booking agents at the stadium were thrilled to get in contact with Eric’s band and immediately booked them for the big playoff game.

It’s been a helluva good year, both in my life and in my career. We’ve played our hearts out this season and it’s almost a sure bet that my team is going to the Super Bowl again in a few weeks. I can’t wait to take Stacy, Ryan, and all our friends with me. With them cheering me on, I'm unbeatable. I’ve broken all kinds of records, not just my own personal bests, but also ones set by incredible athletes before me.

Even though last year was the worst of my entire life, this one has easily been the best. With Stacy at my side, I feel so alive and energized all the time.

When I think back to how broken Ryan and I were before Stacy came into our lives, it makes my heart ache. We were both so lost and adrift, unable to connect and unable to deal with our pain, but Stacy has taken both of our hands in her tender ones and guided us forward.

How I ever got so lucky to have a woman like her on my arm, I have no idea.

All I know for sure is that I don’t intend on ever letting her go. Stacy is a remarkable, beautiful soul and she brightens the lives of everyone around her. Her patience seems unlimited, as does her willingness to give and love. I think that’s rubbed off on me too because I feel like I’ve become a better person since meeting her.

The final chords of Eric’s song fade into the fervent cheers of the fans around the stadium. After thanking them he heads off with his band and the makeshift stage that had been rigged up is cleared away so that my team can head out of the tunnel where we’ve been waiting and warming up.

My heart picks up pace like it always does before a huge game, adrenaline surging through my veins. On instinct, I twist my head toward Jenny’s old seat.

Though it’d been empty the better part of last year, that’s no longer the case.

Stacy sits there, screaming my name. She looks so cute in her personalized Mrs. Hartbreaker jersey that I have to blow a kiss her way, wishing I could make a quick detour up to the stands to steal a real kiss for good luck.

She laughs, clapping for me while Ryan jumps up and down at her side. Chloe, Donovan, and Morgan are there too, with a few more seats reserved for Eric and his band once they make their way over.

In the past when I’d looked toward Jenny’s empty seat, I would feel just as hollow as the vacant space. It was impossible then to imagine that I would feel anything remotely resembling joy again, but Stacy has personally seen to it that I rediscovered happiness. She fills all the emptiness I thought I’d never be rid of.

I still miss my older sister with all my heart, and I would do anything to bring her back again, but I know now that I must live on for her. She would have wanted me to spread kindness and love in her absence, so that’s what I’ve set out to do.

I’ve also done the best I can to make sure that Ryan never forgets his mother, even with Stacy’s presence in our lives. The three of us make an effort to talk about Jenny all the time, laughing at our favorite memories of her and watching old home videos she’d posted online. Her photos are still up and framed in the penthouse suite that we now call home.

My bachelor pad is definitely a warm and cozy family abode these days. It’s full of love, from sweet notes left on the fridge to photos on the wall. Stacy and Ryan are my everything, and they will be forever.

This is all because of my sister.

Had she not stepped into the shoes of parenthood that our mother and father failed to fill, I would have never turned out how I did. I would’ve wasted away on some street somewhere, probably turning to crime or mischief instead of doing anything real with my life.

But Jenny pushed me as hard as she could and then somehow found the willpower to push even more until I discovered my passion for football, which in turn led me to finding my better half and the love of my life.

Jenny has also given me Ryan, and now I can’t imagine waking up every day without the sound of his little footsteps in the hall or his laughter in our house.

Because Jenny always believed the best in me and never gave up on me, I have everything that I do now. I have a career I adore but that I’ve learned to balance, I have a nephew who fills me with pride, and I have a woman I love more than myself . . . my soulmate, my Stacy.

Even though Coach is giving a pep talk right now and I know in a few minutes the game will have my entire attention, I step away from the huddle to spare just another few seconds to gaze up at Stacy, Ryan, and all our friends.

They wave and cheer for me, and this time Stacy blows me a kiss. I pretend to catch it while the rest of the crowd oh’s and ah’s over the cute moment.

While I was living the bachelor life, I’d always thought I was happy. I’d convinced myself that I had everything I could ever want and that I had enough money in my wallet to face anything life threw my way, but I’d had no idea what I was missing.

Now, even more than I love my career, I love my family.

Being with them is what makes life worth living.

Now I know what it means to love with my entire being and to be loved in return, and for that, I am the luckiest man in the whole world.

— E — N — D —

Do you want to know what happens between Jacob & Stacy behind closed doors?

Download The Exclusive Content Here

Also by Christina Benjamin

THE BILLIONAIRE BOYFRIEND SERIES

Sebastian: A Clean Billionaire Romance (Book 1)

Cooper: A Clean Billionaire Romance (Book 2)

Donovan: A Clean Billionaire Romance (Book 3)

Eric: A Clean Billionaire Romance (Book 4)

Jacob: A Clean Billionaire Romance (Book 5)

YOUNG ADULT CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE

(All Boyfriend Books are Stand-Alone Novels and can be read in Any Order)

The Practice Boyfriend (Book 1)

The Almost Boyfriend (Book 2)

The Goodbye Boyfriend (Book 3)

The Holiday Boyfriend (Book 4)

The Stand-In Boyfriend (Book 5)

The Maybe Boyfriend (Book 6)

The Accidental Boyfriend (Book 7)

The Summer Boyfriend (Book 8)

The Wedding Boyfriend (Book 9)

The Winter Boyfriend (Book 10)

The Lost Boyfriend (Book 11)

About the Author

Author, Christina Benjamin, lives in Florida with her husband, and character inspiring pets, where she spends her free time working on her books, eating chocolate and drinking wine.

Christina is best known for her bestselling Young Adult romance novels, The Boyfriend Series, which proves that book boyfriends are like chocolate... you can never have enough. Check out the Boyfriend Series for fast, fun, YA romance reads. These destination novels let you fall in love in a new city with new characters, every time. 

Join her secret Facebook group to beta read, chat about books over a glass of wine and a dessert. Click here to join her Facebook Group.

Interested in joining Christina’s Newsletter for updates and book releases? Click Here to Join Christina’s Newsletter.

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For more information visit:

www.crownatlanticpublishing.com

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