“Hi,” she says, her voice muffled.
I roll my eyes. “Hey, Larissa. How’s it going?”
She’s a tall redhead with legs for miles, a pretty face, and a good sense of humor. She’s starting law school at UT this fall and has been interning for some high-caliber lawyers for the last year. I like that she’s motivated. She seems like the kind of woman I should go for.
That’s what Gemma was like. My girl was going to take life by storm.
My throat gets tight, and I shove that thought down deep. Memories of my high school sweetheart still hit me hard sometimes. Gemma and I had our ups and downs, but at the end of the day, I adored her.
Suddenly, I wish Larissa hadn’t shown up.
A U-Haul truck parks in front of the house next door. I guess our neighbors are moving in too.
Two girls hop out. One is a cheerleader I recognize from our games, and the other is…
Oh, hell no.
Abigail freezes when she sees me.
Please tell me she’s not moving in next door. I don’t want any more drama from her and Ezra. That asshole was supposed to go for the draft as a junior, leaving the QB1 slot wide open for me last year. Instead, he got injured in the offseason, couldn’t participate in the combine, and decided to stay our senior year. I had to ride the bench for the first three games until he sucked so bad, Coach Santos finally gave me a shot.
And while I had a decent season and the Broncos made it to the national championship game, my stats weren’t anything noteworthy. If I’m being honest with myself, I can admit we had a spectacular defense that got us to that game, which I then promptly lost.
So now I have to use my last season of eligibility to play football and try to get drafted instead of graduating like I should’ve last May.
Trust me when I say that playing another year of college football while I juggle being a single father is the very last thing I want to do this fall.
Something tells me having Abigail Dawson next door won’t give me the peace and quiet I’m looking for. Especially if Ezra flips out on her again, and I get thrown in jail for kicking his ass because I have zero tolerance for men harassing women.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. It probably doesn’t help I didn’t hire her for that nanny position. She’s likely still pissed about it. But I’m not gonna hire someone who drives like a bat out of hell when the job might require picking up Hazel from daycare or preschool this fall. Even if Coach’s daughter Roxy vouched for her last spring, I can’t bring myself to hire her. I need a responsible driver.
Shit. I really hope Larissa doesn’t recognize my neighbor.
I didn’t like how she flew off the handle when Abigail took off my bumper. It’s one of the reasons I have reservations about her. While I was pissed Abigail hit my SUV, there was no need to curse at her.
“Hey, Nick. I’m Paige,” the pint-sized cheerleader says. I’m not surprised she knows my name. All the cheerleaders know the team. She nudges Ezra’s ex. “This is Abby.”
“We’ve met,” Abigail says quietly as she tucks a strand of her dirty blonde hair behind her ear. Her whole body is rigid, and animosity wafts off her.
Yup, she’s still angry about that nanny job. Too fucking bad. Oksana has thirty years of experience, is certified in CPR, and is some kind of Russian martial arts expert. If anyone can protect my child, it’s her. So she lacks a little warmth. Her cold personality is the price I pay for my kid’s safety.
When Larissa doesn’t say anything, I realize she probably doesn’t recognize my new neighbor. It was pretty dark that night. After Larissa flipped out and called the cops, I put her in an Uber so I could think straight and deal with the situation.
Paige leans over to say hi to Hazel. “Hey, peanut. Aren’t you adorable?”
Hazel smiles shyly and giggles. I don’t miss the frown on Larissa’s face. I want to tell her I can’t help who my daughter likes or dislikes. Hopefully, Hazel will warm up to her soon. Aside from family members, Hazel’s not used to women being in my life. She probably just needs some time to adjust.
It’s not like I’m going to bring over a different girl every weekend. I’ve been talking to Larissa since the spring, and I’m open to seeing where things go with her. As long as we keep shit casual and she doesn’t plan our wedding behind my back or poke holes in my condoms, we should be cool.
Because I’m absolutely positive I don’t want more kids. I have a hard enough time keeping this one safe.
My attention drifts back to Abigail. Her oversized t-shirt and shorts are smudged with dirt. She looks at me, glances at my Frankenstein bumper that’s still wrapped to my old Outback with duct tape and bungee cords, and looks away.
Yes, you did that.
While her insurance paid out, I needed that money to move. Our old apartment complex was loud, and Hazel was constantly being woken by late-night parties. I could’ve tapped into our savings, but I was worried about cashflow when I might need to put down a big deposit on a rental. I make a mental note to make that repair a priority.
Really, I shouldn’t be upset with Abigail anymore, but car accidents, even fender benders, always fuck me up a little.
