CHAPTER 16 JOLENE

I catch up with some reporters I'm friendly with after the press conference, and I sit in my car as I text Sam afterward.

Me: Want to bring the boys to the Gridiron for dinner? My treat and I'm right across the street.

She writes back right away.

Sam: They both said yes. We'll be there in ten.

I leave my white Volvo SUV where it is and walk across the street to my dad's barbecue joint.

It always sort of feels like home when I step into the place, and it's because in a lot of ways, it is. My mom's personal touches are everywhere, but it's my dad's pride and joy. Aside from my son and me, of course.

They don't come in as often as they used to, maybe once a week now just to check on things, but when we first moved to Vegas, my parents practically lived here. I attended UNLV, so I came by frequently since it's not too far away, and it always felt like a place to get a good meal and a strong drink.

It's a little after five on a Friday, so the crowd is starting to pick up. The bartenders all know me by name, and I slide onto a stool across from Alex, one of my favorites mostly because of his entertaining storytelling abilities.

"The usual?" he asks, and I nod with a grin.

"You know it. And Sam and the boys will be here any minute, so I need a table."

He nods and pours me a nice, steep glass of my favorite pinot noir, and I'm halfway through it and listening to Alex's latest roommate debacle when the door opens and I spot Sam with the boys.

I abandon my wine and beeline for my kiddo.

I feel like I've hardly seen him lately, and he's the very best part of every single day. I grab him into a hug, and he laughs even as he struggles out of my hold.

"Are you being good for Sam?" I demand.

"Always," he says innocently, and I somehow doubt that.

I laugh. "Right, right. Who wants cheeseburgers?"

"Me!" both boys yell at the same time, and we head toward the booth Alex reserved for us. I detour to the bar to grab my glass of wine, and then I slide onto the end of the booth beside Jonah.

"How was school today?" I ask the boys.

"Fine," they say together, and I laugh since that's pretty much the standard response.

"What did you do in PE?" I ask, going the more specific route to glean any insight into what happened in the hours I was away from him.

"I don't remember," Jonah says, and I narrow my eyes at him.

"Cop out," I mutter, and then Debbie comes by to take our order.

Sam eyeballs me from across the table and does some weird thing with her brows after we order. I know she's trying to have some sort of private conversation with me but I can't for the life of me figure out what it is.

"Cade, switch with me," I say to Sam's boy, and I hand Jonah my phone so the boys can watch whatever YouTuber they're into this week.

"What was the look for?" I ask her quietly. There's enough noise in the bar that the boys won't overhear us, and besides, they're focused on their video now.

"How'd it go with L?"

I blow out a breath and shake my head. "It was…" I search for the right word. As a journalist, words are sort of my thing. And yet…I can't quite come up with the word to encompass how it went.

Frustrating, overwhelming, infuriating, comforting, and somehow…sexy? All at the same time.

There isn't a word for that. Frust-whelm-infur-comf-sex-iating?

"Dangerous," I finally finish. I pick up my glass of wine and ignore her intent gaze at me while she studies me for more.

"Dangerous? What the hell does that mean?"

"Can we just talk about it later?" I hiss.

She holds up both hands. "Fine, fine," she says, and she lets a few beats of quiet pass between us because she knows I'll just have to fill the silence with words to expand on that.

But I don't want to talk about him.

It's painful, and seeing him today was like ripping open an old wound and scrubbing the exposed nerves there with a Brillo pad.

"Did you hear about Nancy Claiborne?" she finally asks.

I turn toward her as I brace for the gossip. "No! What happened?"

One of our favorite pastimes is catching each other up on all the latest gossip about the moms from the group where we first met.

"She's having an affair with Steve Tucker and she's pregnant. Doesn't know if it's his or her husband's."

My jaw drops. "Nancy Claiborne? The pearl-clutcher?" She balked at the erotic romance book Sam and I were discussing at mom group one day, officially dubbing herself the "pearl-clutcher" to Sam and me henceforth.

"One and the same. Can you even imagine her sexy times with her own husband, let alone with Tucker?"

I giggle, finally letting that interview roll off me as I shift my focus elsewhere. "To be a fly on the wall. How does something like that even start? Who approaches who in that situation?"

"I can just see Tucker in that sweater vest walking up to ol' Nance and offering to maim her on the slide at the park."

"Maim?" I ask, a look of horror crossing my face. "Do you mean…" I shrug, censoring my words the same way she is.

"Sex," she whispers. "Not actual maiming."

"Either way, I literally will never look at the slide at the park the same way ever again for the rest of my life," I mutter, pulling a face at her.

Debbie comes by with everyone's drinks, and as the boys start sipping their Sprite and Sam sips her wine, she glances toward the door.

"Oh shit. Speak of the devil."

I follow her gaze, and I spot Jack Dalton as he talks to the hostess to find a table. With him are the general manager, the offensive coordinator, the defensive coordinator…and the new head coach.

"Shit," I whisper. My head whips back to hers immediately as my eyes widen. "What are they doing here?"

"Um, they work across the street, my dear. Today was the first press conference for the new HC. This place is known for having the best wings in town and they pour a nice, tall glass of wine. That's sort of a dumb question, don't you think?"

"Shut up," I hiss at her, and I refuse to turn my head even though I feel eyes on me.

I glance over at Jonah, expecting him to be engrossed in his video, but instead he's staring at the men who just walked in.

"That's Jack Dalton," he breathes, clearly in awe seeing one of his heroes in the flesh. Again. They've actually met on a few different occasions given both my position and my father's history with the league. Cade, however, hasn't had the chance just yet and I know, I just know, I'm not escaping this place without making the introductions.

"Mom, you have to introduce Cade!" he says.

"And Cade's mother," Sam interjects as she pokes me in the ribs, and I bat her hand away.

"Let's just let them enjoy their meal," I suggest, still not turning to look at the men who just walked in.

I watch my son, though, and I see his eyes growing wider, which means they're walking in this direction.

"Hi!" Jonah says, and I feel a presence stop at the head of our table.

I force my head over to Jack, ignoring the rest of the men with him.

"Jonah, so great to see you again," Jack says to him, and Jonah is positively glowing that the JD5 remembers who he is. "And Jolene, always a pleasure, though I feel like we've spent most of the day together."

I laugh a high-pitched laugh that sounds wholly unnatural and a little feral, and Sam is patiently waiting for her introduction.

"This is my friend Sam and her son Cade," I say to Jack, still carefully keeping my gaze on his face even though it takes literally every ounce of my own self-control not to glance over at Lincoln.

I feel his eyes on me. I feel him willing me to look at him.

I won't. I can't.

I can nearly smell him from here, a comforting wood and spicy bergamot cologne that always smelled so fresh and invigorating to me, and it dredges up too many memories.

Way too many.

"Everyone, you know Jolene. This is her son Jonah and their friends, Sam and Cade," Jack says, and there we have it.

Lincoln knows I have a son now.

Maybe he already knew. I wonder if he's followed anything at all about me. I wanted to stay far, far away from him, but given my choice of careers, I didn't have much choice. I've run across news about him over the years, always trying to be objective and always failing, but I didn't actually have to report on him until now.

"And this is Mike, Steve, Lincoln, and Andy," Jack says, pointing out each of the five big names in the Aces organization. "Nice meeting you." He offers a small wave, and I smile at Mike, the offensive coordinator, before they all turn toward their table.

That was a close call.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," Sam says quietly to me as the boys howl over seeing one of their heroes in the flesh. "That Lincoln Nash is one gorgeous son of a gun."

"Too bad he's a monster dick," I mutter back to her, and then Debbie comes with our food.

But I can't eat.

Not when Lincoln Nash is in the same restaurant as me.