The Varsity Dad Dilemma - Lex Martin Page 0,53

I promised Gabby—just friends. Not friends with benefits. Not a few hookups. Not a fuck fest until we both pass out. Friends.

I’ve never hated a word so much in my entire life.

Like an echo from a dream, I hear it in my head—letting her go was a mistake.

But it’s not like I can go back in time. Even if I wish I could.

After I towel off and throw on some sweats, I grab my phone and crawl into bed. Swiping the screen, I delete three messages from Miranda. I’ve said everything I have to say to her. She knows we’re over, so there’s no point in dragging out our shit.

When I pull up the photos Gabby sent me today of Poppy covered in apple sauce, grinning like a little monster, my heart instantly melts.

I smile at her messy face and run my finger over her button nose.

But it’s the one with Gabby laughing in the background I pause on the longest. Her hair is pulled up into a sleek ponytail, and there’s nothing more I’d like to do than untie it. Run my hands through it. Watch it fall against her pillows as I lay her down.

I haven’t replied to the message yet.

Not responding to Gabby as quickly as I’d like to falls under my self-denial category. Despite jacking off to thoughts of her in the shower just now, there’s been a lot of self-denial this week. I have a laundry list of don’ts.

Don’t text too often.

Don’t call unless there’s an emergency.

Don’t hang out more than you need to.

Don’t hug her.

Don’t kiss her.

And definitely don’t fuck her.

Assuming she’d let me.

I groan when my cock responds to the idea.

“Would you just call her already?” Tank rolls over in his bed, wrapping the comforter around him.

“Call who?”

“Who do you fucking think? Gabby.”

I still. “How do you know I want to call her?”

He punches his pillow, turns his head toward me, and spears me with a look. “You’ve been wanting to call her since you left her place this morning, and don’t even pretend otherwise. And I’m gonna make it real easy for you too.” He reaches over the side of the bed, grabs his headphones, plugs them into his phone, swipes it a few times, until music blares out of those small speakers. He pops them in his ears. “I can’t hear a thing,” he yells. “Now fucking call her so you can think straight tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. Because we have a game.

Fuck. When have I ever forgotten about a game the night before?

Never, that’s when.

I press my palms into my eyes.

Okay. Calling her now falls under prepping for a game because if I’m this fucked up in the morning, we all lose.

She answers on the second ring. “Rider. Hey.”

She doesn’t sound as excited to talk to me as I thought she would.

Because you’ve been jerking her around like an asshole. Again.

I’m screwing this up, and I haven’t even touched her.

I’ve got to do better. I can be her friend and not lose my mind, for fuck’s sake.

“Hey.” I clear my throat. “How did things go today?”

“Fine. Sienna and I played with Poppy all afternoon, and she knocked out around seven.” While she answers my question, her voice is reserved. She doesn’t expand on her day, which she usually does when it involves my daughter.

“Sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner today. Those pics you sent me were adorable. I’m gonna have to print them out.” I scratch my head. “Do people still make baby books? I saw some woman talking about those on a blog.”

“That’s a great idea. I’m sure Poppy will appreciate that someday.”

We’re quiet for a second, and I hate the hesitation in her voice.

Fuck it. Maybe asking will scratch the itch I’ve had all week.

“Whatcha doing on Sunday? Wanna hang out?”

She doesn’t say anything at first, and I wonder if she heard me. I’m about to repeat the words when she responds.

“Do you need me to watch the baby?” she asks softly. “I think I can get you some time to do homework or whatever errands you need after—”

“No, it’s not to watch Poppy. It’s just to, you know, hang out. Maybe order some lunch or watch a movie. I have to get some homework done Sunday night too, but Bree said she’d watch Poppy for a few hours, and I could use some adult conversation that’s not about football or diaper rashes. We could even nerd it up and watch some National Geographics if you’d like.”

She laughs, and

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