Touchdown - Leslie North Page 0,45

nauseam. Well, that busy surgeon had found time for not just a mistress, but multiple.

She was sure an NFL star had plenty of tricks up his sleeve.

The evening ground on, Jill feeling thoroughly dour and negative after her kitchen clean-up session. Food arrived, which turned into more of an emotional binge-fest than a celebratory family dinner. The kids loved the pulled pork, and she made sure to save a little bit of everything for whenever Maxwell chose to show up.

It wasn’t until an emotionally taxing few hours later that Maxwell finally stepped through the front door. Jill already had the kids upstairs for their baths, and when Maxwell joined them, the kids went wild.

“Touchdown!” Shelley screamed.

Jill laughed, shielding herself from the bubbly spray of water the kids launched. Maxwell pressed kisses to the tops of their heads, including Jill’s.

“Welcome home,” she said, avoiding his gaze. She wanted to focus on the task and get out of here. “There’s dinner in the fridge. I ordered in.”

“I already ate,” he said, still sounding weary. But was it just a front? Her ex had perfected the art of sounding bone-tired when really he’d probably been mid-coitus with his mistress of the week.

“Oh? Where’d you go?”

“Ernie’s,” Maxwell said.

That was odd. More alarm bells went off inside her. “I thought you said you did game review.”

“Yeah, well, some of the guys were starving, and they invited us out.”

The perfect excuse. And at this point, after all these hours of mental jumping jacks, she was tired. “Well, if you need a snack…it’s there.”

Maxwell helped dry the kids off and get them corralled into their pajamas and into the bedroom. He sat in the armchair in the corner of the room, eyes drooping as Jill read through the usual round of books. And by the time the kids were in their cribs and the lights switched off, Jill knew she had to leave—now.

They stepped into the hallway, leaving the door cracked a few inches. She looked up at Maxwell, but she couldn’t see the usual warmth and tenderness that she’d grown used to. All she could see was the web of lies she feared he was weaving. The invisible kisses that lingered from whatever girlfriend he’d actually taken out that night.

“I gotta run,” she said, her voice sticking to her throat. At this point, she wasn’t sure if she felt guilty, angry, betrayed, or just in over her head. The only clear thing was that she needed to leave. “You need anything before I go?”

“You don’t want to stay?”

She grimaced. Was that hollowness in his voice from the exhaustion, or was he just bad at pretending he wanted her here? “I’ve got an insane day tomorrow. I just need to go decompress and get my head on right for the clinic.”

He nodded, and she hugged him briefly. He tried to kiss her, but she offered her cheek, his lips missing her mouth.

“See you soon,” she forced out, then hurried down the stairs as fast as she could.

Running both from the demons of her past and the little voice that told her to crawl into bed with Maxwell and see if they couldn’t make things right.

16

Another week, another win.

Time was slipping like sand through Maxwell’s fingers as the season wore on. And one of the casualties of the intense schedule was alone time with Jill.

After another Sunday win, one of his teammates suggested a Monday evening outing for the crew. Nothing wild like that engagement party had been, but something to celebrate the amazing season, the upcoming playoffs. Where they could all let off a little steam, drink their one beer, and head home for a good rest.

Maxwell agreed, partly because his teammates were beginning to tease him that the triplets were running his free time. Which was true—it had to be true, if he wanted to see them at all—but he thought the adults-only night out was something that would do him and Jill good.

He felt like he’d barely seen her for the past few weeks. And between her dodging intimacy and spending two nights a week at her own place, he could tell there was a rift growing between them. He didn’t know how to fix it, either. Or if Jill even wanted to.

“Hello, fam,” he crooned as he found Jill and the kids on the back patio, soaking up the late evening. Dusk had already fallen, but the tiki torches were lit, the patio lights casting a relaxed, amber glow. The kids were happily playing