“Axel Broxton,” I supplied, holding out my hand, and he shook it enthusiastically. I didn’t usually use my fame for personal gain, but I also didn’t want to be arrested in the parking lot of a goddamn grocery store.

He grinned and said, “My son really looks up to you. He’s only nine, but he wants to be a football player just like you. In fact, for a kid on the smallish side, he can really—”

Too anxious about the news that I was a father, I really didn’t want to chitchat right this minute. I needed time to think. “Hey,” I interrupted, giving him the patented Axel Broxton charismatic smile that had gained me so many endorsement deals, “how about I sign something for your son? If you have a marker inside, you could grab that while I pay for my stuff. Again, I really apologize for that. I don’t know where my head was at.”

It’s still on Aisle Four, dude. Along with your entire heart.

“No problem, Mr. Broxton. No problem at all. We’re just so happy you’ve chosen to shop at James Brothers Grocers.” He nudged me with an elbow. “And we’re damned sure glad you’re back here in Texas where you belong. Hey, would it be too much to ask to get a picture with you?” he asked solicitously.

I agreed to whatever wouldn’t get the police called on me and walked back inside. Twenty minutes later, I was finally on my way, placing Blaire’s card in my console so I wouldn’t lose it. I had so much to do if Blaire was coming over tonight. I needed to clean my downstairs toilet, and I was pretty sure I had left a pair of dirty socks beside my recliner last night. How could she think I would be a fit parent if my apartment was a mess?

My mind was a million miles away, flipping through all the things I needed to get done before seven. My daughter’s sweet little face was at the forefront of my thoughts when I heard a screech of tires and felt a pounding pain on my left side.

And then nothing.

12. Blaire

Blaire

“This isn’t the way home. Why are we turning here, Mommy?” my very observant daughter queried.

“The road is blocked off up ahead,” I said, looking over at the ambulances and fire trucks crowding the route we usually took to get home. “Looks like there’s been an accident or something, so we’ll take the back way home.”

At the apartment, we had dinner with Evan, and after dinner, I told him I needed to go out for a while, and he agreed to get Carrie ready for bed.