Intercepted (New Hope #1)

CHAPTER SIX

Mallory

The football sails through the air, a speck of brown leather against the backdrop of night. The visiting team's stands are in an uproar, but our side is silent, waiting for the completion of our offensive play. I hold my breath, hands clasped over my mouth in anticipation.

Aidan comes out of nowhere, managing to lose his guards. The ball lands in his outstretched arms, like he has magnets on the tips of his fingers. He cradles it under his right arm, using his left to shove a blue jersey out of the way. He twists and turns. He hops and pivots, dancing around a field full of enemies. When he manages to break free, our side of the bleachers erupts.

I hop onto my seat, screaming at the top of my lungs as my son sprints sixty yards, multiple defenders trying to catch him. Each one of them dives, coming up short. Aidan waltzes into the endzone like a knight returning from battle. He spikes the ball into the turf, ripping his helmet off so he can release a triumphant roar.

Mason, who is on the field beside Pemberton Academy's coach, turns around, grinning wildly at me. He taps his ear, letting me know he can hear me from down there. I scream louder, chanting 'Reeves' along with the rest of the audience. Mason rolls his eyes, slapping our son on the back when he returns to the bench.

After watching the last few games from under the bleachers, Mason's popularity has died down enough that he can show his face without drawing too much attention. The visiting teams and their supporters still try to sneak to our side, so extra security has been hired for home games. But the students, parents, and staff at Pemberton have accepted the fact that Mason Reeves will be around for a while. They don't need to clamber for an autograph before he disappears again.

The kids and I are still having trouble believing it. He says he's staying, but I wouldn't be surprised to come downstairs one morning and find him standing by the door, bags packed. I wouldn't be surprised, but it would hurt.

A few nights ago, after my first date with Daniel, Mason confessed he's always been in love with me. Again, I don't believe him. If he loved me, he would've stuck around after David's death. He would've spent more time with me and the kids. Instead, he went back to his all-star life. He dated his way through the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show roster, sometimes more than one girl at a time.

I don't think Mason knows what love is, and it's not my responsibility to teach him.

"Why is he here?" Dad asks once the cheering has died down.

I retake my seat in between him and Stephanie, who is sipping from a metal thermos that I'm pretty sure isn't coffee. "He wants a relationship with his kids."

Mom huffs, leveling me with her knowing eyes. "With his kids, or you?"

I blow air from my cheeks, my breath a white cloud. Mason clearly wants to fuck, but he's probably just bored. He enjoys getting a rise out of me. Every few days, a fresh bouquet sits in a vase on our kitchen island. Flowers have become a symbol for our strange relationship. He thinks that if he gets it right, he gets me. He still hasn't guessed correctly, and I won't tell him even if he does.

"Bit too late for either, if you ask me." Dad grunts, his gaze on the field, where our defensive team has just made an interception. "Should've married you the second he got you pregnant."

I roll my eyes. "We were underage, Dad."

"Then he should've put an engagement ring on your finger, waited until you turned eighteen, and took you to the damn courthouse."

Stephanie snorts. "How romantic."

"There's nothing romantic about doing the right thing," he argues, rubbing at the graying scruff on his cheeks.