Chapter Fifteen
Mitch stared at Becca, praying she couldn’t read his panic over how much he wanted to take option two. Marry her? Everything in him screamed“Hell, yes!”But what moron proposed to a woman he hadn’t known all that long and who came with a sarcastic fourteen-year-old in tow?
Apparently, he did, because two nights ago he’d almost asked Deacon for their mother’s engagement ring, the one Deacon had given to Rhonda but managed to get back before she stole over half his shit.
“Mitch? Just tell me.”
He exhaled nerves. “I need your help.”
“With?”
My lifesounded a bit overwhelming. “Some things I’m considering doing.”
“Doing?”
He sat behind his desk, and she sat on the edge of it, facing him, her arms crossed over her chest. She watched him with caution.
“I’m making a mess of this. Bottom line, I’m going nowhere. I’m retired at thirty-five. I’m wealthy. I’m healthy. I’ve got nothing but time on my hands. But I have no idea what comes next.”
She visibly relaxed. “Is that all?”
“You don’t get it, do you?” Frustrated that not even Becca seemed to understand how difficult his life had become, he fumed, trying to think of how to explain himself.
“I’m sorry.” She leaned forward to pat his shoulder. “That sounded insensitive, and I didn’t mean it that way. You’ve had a major life change. I understand that. Now you need to find a new direction.”
“Yeah.”
“There’s no rush on figuring it out, is there?”
“No.” He sighed. “I feel like a jackass for complaining. I have it made. I’m all good. And I feel worthless.”
She stared down at him, and he felt two feet tall. He shouldn’t have asked for her advice. Now, instead of looking at him as if he were some sex god who’d rocked her world, he came across as a whiner needing bolstering.
“Mitch, what do you like to do?”
“Play football.”
“Okay. What else?”
“I don’t know.”
“I think you do.” She moved to grab a chair, then pulled it close to him and sat. “Did you like coaching the boys?”
“I just helped out, really.”
“But did you like it?”
He thought about that. “Yeah.”
“And when you and Simon hung out on Thanksgiving, and you were so great playing football with him and his friends—I heard all about it. How was that?”
He smiled. “It was fun. No pressure, no worries about anything, just enjoying the game.”
“So, do that.”
“Do what?”
“Coach kids.”
