Was I appeased? A little. Maybe.
At least she wasn’t packing up house next week and fucking off to the opposite end of the country. But she might…soon. And I had to be prepared.
Two weeks passed in a blur of work and kid activities, interspersed with researching paternity rights and securing representation. I quickly realized that I couldn’t hire a local lawyer. Word would spread like wildfire in the Four Forest area, and the last thing I wanted was for my family to become the hot topic of gossip. I made an appointment to see an attorney in Rutland instead and tried to ignore the heart-wrenching online stories of fathers who got fucked over in divorce situations.
What the hell would I do if they moved to San Diego? I couldn’t fathom it. Those kids were my…everything. I’d have to move. Did they have a logging industry in Southern California? I hit Google again and wound up on a website for San Diego Comic-Con, featuring pics from the previous year’s convention where Liam Sutcliffe and the cast fromTrilogy Alpha Teamhad stolen the show.
I stared at the sinfully sexy movie star and wondered why his name was familiar. Sure, he was famous, but that wasn’t it. Someone had mentioned him recently and?—
Oh…yeah. Layla.
Something about Silas’s ex dating a star. I clicked the actor’s name, unthinking. I supposed I needed a distraction that had nothing to do with my current angst and ogling a tall, handsome man was a good one. I hadn’t counted on Silas popping into my feed.
Liam with his girlfriend, Alli Anderson, the former wife of football veteran, Silas Anderson.
I swiped past the new couple and zoomed in on a few recent shots of Silas in workout clothes, tattooed muscles glistening, and dark sunglasses. He looked—well…totally miserable. His mouth was drawn in a tight line, and his jaw jutted forward as if clenched unhappily.
“I can relate, big guy.”
I closed my laptop, slumped into the sofa cushions, and propped my feet on the coffee table. It was hard to believe he’d been here in this house almost two months ago. I’d hoped he was doing well…with a new gig and a new purpose. Silas had seemed happier in Wood Hollow than in those pics, up to his eyeballs in snow and?—
I dug my phone from my pocket, searched my photos, and found the one I’d taken of the snowman Ivy and Chase had finished.
And yes, I knew it wasn’t a bright idea, but I was officially out of fucks. I found Silas’s contact information, attached the pic, and typed,
Frosty.
I pushed Send, smiling to myself like an idiot.
If it made him smile too, it was worth it.
CHAPTER 9
SILAS
Frosty.
I stared at the photo and double-checked the source.
Cooper.
My heart pinged and jackhammered in my chest at the sight of his name. I glanced in the general direction of the restrooms for my agent, but the coast was clear. I started to reply with an enthusiasticHow’ve you been? I was just thinking about you.But if I really got going, I might add,I’ve missed you.
No, no, I wouldn’t go there. I wasn’tthatbig of a sap. Although…it was a thousand percent true that I thought of Cooper way more than I should have. Which probably made sense.
Spending a few intense days in isolation with the sexy lumberjack had made an impression. I hadn’t returned to LA flying a bi banner or anything, but the blinders were off. Mostly. I’d given myself permission to explore my queer side a bit. So far, that had amounted to a renewed interest in gay porn and jerking it to a couple of hot guys going at it like bunnies.
I hoped I’d eventually build up the confidence to try a dating app and meet someone real, but I hadn’t worked up the nerve required, and being back in LA didn’t make it easy.
My agent, Ger, who happened to be a friend of mine, had been in my dish, wanting to “bounce ideas around” and get a feel for my next career move.
“You’re a hot commodity, baby. Think of the football greats who retired decades ago and are still in the public eye. With those cheekbones, you can make bank doing commercials,” Ger had enthused. “Not just in the US. We’re talking Europe, Japan, Australia.”
He’d arranged meetings with a dozen brands looking for new representation. I’d been wined and dined by a hodgepodge of firms that sold everything from toothpaste to sparkling water. Interesting and possibly lucrative but not exactly satisfying.
Tonight, Ger supposedly had an exciting development that he couldn’t wait to share—after he’d grabbed the digits from the cute guy he’d been low-key flirting with before I’d shown up.
Of course, I’d acted as though I hadn’t noticed ’cause Ger wasn’t out and I wasn’t supposed to know he was queer. He probably assumed I was too self-absorbed to pick up on sly once-overs between two men anyway. I could have been offended, but I understood. Ger’s biggest clients were professional athletes who swam in toxic masculine waters. This was a culture of posturing, posing, and rough play…on and off the field.
