by Emilia Finn
“But still, she wants to talk. She’s nervous.”
“So you talk to her. She’s your wife. Her nerves are your problem.”
“She’s your sister and you’ve been her coach for this. Her nerves are your problem,” he shoots back, his grin taking up half his face. He’s being a dick.
“Why are you tormenting me?” I groan. “She’s fine. You don’t need me out there.”
“Because it’s nice to see you blush. It’s fucking amazing actually,” he laughs, jumping back when I shoot up to hit him.
Dick.
“Come on,” he says, clapping my cheek condescendingly and I slap his hand away. “I’ve got them on the bats. They’re giggling like fools. It’s fun, come hang out,” he finishes at the same moment we hear a loud thump, nervous squeaks and then peals of laughter.
I jump my desk, clearing it in one stride, and Bobby and I sprint down the hall, emerging into the main room to find the girls lying in a heap on the mats, baseball bats rolling away from them, then Tina sitting up in the middle as blood pours from her brow.
She looks around dazed as Bobby and I skid down beside them, but then Izzy’s and Kit’s snorting laughter must break through her fog because she holds her hand over her bleeding forehead and she falls over onto them, giggling uncontrollably herself.
“Are you okay?” I take her wrists in my hands, my fingers overlapping her skinny limbs.
“She smashed herself!” Kit cries, literally cries, tears rolling down her face as she laughs at Tina.
“You okay?” Bobby asks Kit and she just lays her hand on his shoulder in answer, letting out a full belly laugh, snorting then falling over again.
“It bounced back,” Izzy adds, rolling on the floor, her legs tangled with Kit and Tina’s; three sets of bare feet, all with varying shades of sparkly paint on the toes.
“You had them on the bats?” I ask Bobby, accusation coating my voice and his eyes leave the mess of girls on the floor and meet mine in question.
“Yeah.” His lips twitch now that he knows his precious isn’t hurt. “Something fun to do for rest day.”
“Rest day?” I help Tina stand when she attempts and stumbles. “She’s gonna have to go to the emergency room.”
“She beaned herself,” Kit continues laughing and I shoot her a glare, silencing her, although her lips twitch against her effort.
“Let me go,” Tina says softly, smiling too as she tugs her arm from my grasp and turns.
Izzy stands, tripping on her feet as she cackles. “Come on. We’ll get you cleaned up.”
“Gotta take her to the emergency room,” I call out to their retreating backs, but the girls ignore me, still giggling as they walk away and down the hall toward the locker room.
“Mama?”
I spin as I hear the tears in Evie’s voice. Jack picks her up, turning to leave the room again, looking guilty as hell for bringing her in at the wrong moment.
“Mama,” Evie cries again, but the girls have already left the room, entering the lockers and the heavy door closing behind them.
“It’s okay, Smalls. Mommy’s just gone to pee.”
She holds her arms out for me so I step up to them, smirking when Jack pouts, but then his eyes bug out when he spots the mess on the floor.
“What’s with the, ah… ketchup on the floor?”
I love him for shielding Evie.
“Uncle B thought it would be a good idea to give the girls bats,” I answer him as Evie clings to me like a baby monkey, tucking her head into my shoulder and letting out a contended sigh.
Jack scoffs, grabbing paper towel and antiseptic spray from the storage cabinet. “That was dumb.”
“It wasn’t dumb,” Bobby defends himself. “How was I supposed to know she’d knock herself out?”
“Um,” Jon walks in and stops on the spot. “Why’s Jack cleaning up blood?”
“It’s ketchup. And it’s there because genius over here,” I point at Bobby with a glare, “gave the girls bats.”
“So they attacked each other?” Jon asks, smiling with wide eyes. “Who hit who? No wait, lemme guess,” he says, enjoying himself as he grabs paper towel and helps Jack. “I bet it was Kit--”
“Hey!” Bobby kicks Jon in the ribs.
“Yeah, it was probably Kit, smacking Iz for something stupid she said.”
No, it was T-- Mommy, hitting herself.”
Bobby’s eyes bug out of his head as he grins at me. “You call her Mommy too? That’s h--… an elevated temperature,” he snorts, thinking he’s the funniest fucker this side of the Mississippi.
“You’re an idiot,” I spit at him.
Evie sits up in my arms again, her pout full blown as she pokes her chubby finger against my cheek. “That’s naughty. Naughty word.”
“Sorry Smalls.”
“You say sorry.”
“I just said sorry.”
“You say sorry to Bee,” she demands stubbornly and I smile almost as big as Bobby does. Almost.
Smug bastard.
“I’m sorry, B,” I tell him, but I flip him the bird behind her back.
“Sounds like you’re whipped,” he murmurs. “Not by her,” he continues, pointing in the direction the girls went. “But by her,” he nods his chin at Evie.
He’s right. I kind of am whipped by the curly haired beauty.
“Where’s Jim?” Jack asks as he stands from his spot on the floor, grunting like a ninety year old getting off his couch.
“He’s probably in the ladies locker room, since he’s on the inside now,” I tell them, still jealous that he’s had that glimpse into the other world. “He’s more girly than they are.”
“Hey douche, I’m right here,” Jim spits from behind us. I spin to find him with Bean in a baby carrier on his chest. I’d like to rag on him for doing that, but she’s adorable, she’s my niece, so I won’t. “What’s with the blood?” he asks, nodding at the wet paper towel and Jon shakes his head.
“It’s ketchup,” Jack lies smoothly with a perfectly neutral tone and Jim nods his head like he believes it.
“Who attacked who?”
“Kit gave Iz a beat down for being a smart ass.”
“That’s Izzy’s?” he asks, turning toward the locker rooms, ready to sweep her away for pampering and safe keeping.
“No, relax.” Bobby kicks Jon as he walks past. “It’s Evie’s moms. She’s gonna need to see a doctor though. There was a lot of ketchup.”
“What the hell happened?”
“He gave them bats,” I spit, nodding at Bobby again as Evie curls into my neck, bored with the ketchup discussion.
Ten
Tina
Alphabet Soup
“Did you see how fast they ran?” Izzy snickers, wetting paper towel under the faucet as Kit pushes me to sit on the bench.
Kit opens the first aid kit, taking out alcohol swabs as she continues to laugh. “I can’t believe you did that.”
“I can’t believe you two won’t stop laughing,” I complain, but I ruin my own sincerity by ending my sentence with a giggle.
It was funny. Truly.
Bobby set us up with bags and baseball bats. Hit the shit out of the bag, he says. Have at it. It’s fun, cathartic and good for toning arms. Apparently.
It all sounds innocent, especially since I begged him not to make me spar with the girls, even though they were both asking to. Jerks. It was going fine until we turned the music up and we got a little silly and excited. I swung the bat wide but it bounced back, smacking me just above my brow.
It really isn’t so bad and it doesn’t hurt, but it did open an old scar, and head injuries are notorious bleeders.
I’m so embarrassed. And after this, I’ll have to go out to the bag room and scrub the damn place clean. So now, two of my encounters with that man include body fluids and me needing to clean the floor.
Dammit. I knew today was a bad idea.
“We’ll clean you up then we’ll take you to the
ER,” Kit says, applying an alcohol wipe to my brow and I hiss.
I relax my scrunched face, since scrunching hurts my brow even more. “Not going to the ER, babe.”
“Yes,” Izzy argues, grabbing my hand in hers to stop me from pushing Kit away. “You are.”
“No,” I repeat. “We’re not.” I don’t have a few thousand dollars to flush away, and I don’t have insurance. Been here, done this before. A Band-Aid and Advil will fix it up.
“Tina--”
“This isn’t a negotiation, girls. Sorry, but I’m not going to the ER.”
“You stubborn ass,” Kit spits at me, wiping my brow rougher than needed and I hiss again. She can be so mean sometimes.
“Here.” Iz passes Kit some small white packages. Kit stops torturing me, staring at them, then back at Iz.
“Alright.” She finally nods. “But don’t be surprised when the guys throw a fit about this.”
“Can you see straight?” Izzy asks me, lowering so her eyes meet mine. “Any black spots?”
“Nope. All good.” Lie.
“Alright,” Iz nods, turning away to fuss with the first aid container and pack the spread out contents back in. “Just put the butterfly stitches on. She’ll be fine.”
Shrugging, Kit rips open the packaging, her breath fanning my face as she concentrates, her sports bra covered breasts inches from my face, her bare, toned, midriff in my eye line.
“You’re still coming tomorrow,” Kit says, taking her fingers away from keeping pressure on my brow, then slapping the stitch down, and I smile bitterly at her bedside manner. She’s terrible.
Even Aiden’s strong hands earlier were gentler than Kit’s, and he was squeezing harder than I think he realized. My skin is still burning, a pleasant warmth radiating from the very spot he touched.
His eyes seemed lighter today; although every other time I’ve seen him he’s had his hat pulled low, shadowing them. Today I finally got to see them in daylight without the hat.
They’re almost gray, a definite steel in them, so different from his chocolate eyed brothers. The contrast just emphasizes their differences. Their exuberance to his mystique. Their boisterousness to his calculated, quiet, watchfulness.
“You’re still coming to my fight,” Kit continues as she hurts my head. “You should both stay over tonight, pre-fight celebration night.”
“Pre-fight celebration?” I ask, smiling then hissing again when she slaps another stitch down. She’s not even trying to be gentle. “Shouldn’t you rest tonight and celebrate tomorrow night?”
“We like to celebrate all the time. It’s fun,” she says, her smile contradicting the next painful stitch she smacks down on my face.
I wince, ready to tear her arm off. All jokes aside, my adrenaline is starting to wear off and my forehead is starting to throb “That hurts, you know.”
“I know,” she shoots back, not giving a damn. “But your choices were ER or me. You chose me so this is what you get.”
“So we’re having a girl’s night?” Iz asks as I shake my head, both to say no, and to clear the black dots still swimming across my vision.
“Yep. You’re staying over,” Kit cuts me off. “Then we can all smash down some breakfast carbs and then go to the fight together.”
“Aren’t you nervous? Shouldn’t you want a quiet night to rest?”
“Yeah, I’m nervous, which means I’d prefer a distraction tonight rather than quiet time to overthink and freak.”
Iz steps into my vision, staring into my eyes as Kit finishes with my brow and moves to throw away the trash. “You good to get up?”
I look down at my legs, flushing at the fact I’m wearing teeny tiny shorts that Aiden saw me walk away in. Oh my god, did my ass jiggle?
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I tell her, rising to my feet. My legs turn jelly and my vision swims again, so I stop against the wall, bracing myself before I fall on my face.
Damn.
I think I gave myself a concussion.
“You’re okay?” Kit asks, stepping into my face, a grin tugging at her lip. She knows I’m full of it.
“Yeah, let’s go. Evie’s probably wondering where I am.”
“She was with Jack,” Iz says. “She’ll be fine.”
~*~
“Count them out for me, Smalls.”
“One. two. Fee…”
I stop in my tracks, flattening my back against the concrete wall and I listen to Aiden count with my daughter.
The girls and I split up in the hall; Kit and Iz going in search of their husbands.
I creep along the hall, working on my ninja stealth again, and this time it’s a success. I hit the end of the hallway to find Evie sitting on the floor near the front desk, her legs bent in front of her, her arms wrapped around her legs and her chin resting on her knees, and Aiden lying on his stomach in front of her, a nail polish bottle clasped in his left hand, the tiny brush pinched between the fingers of his right hand as he paints her toenails and she counts.
“One. two. Fee.”
“Mmmhmm.”
“…Five. Six. Seven.”
Aiden looks up mid paint stroke, his grin high as his dancing eyes study my daughter. “You forgot four, honey.”
“No, I didn’t!”
I bite my fist to stop myself from laughing. We have this argument almost daily. She does forget the four. Always.
“Start again. One, two…”
“Fee, five, six…”
He chuckles as he continues to polish, his movements quick and sure considering her tiny toes are wiggling. “You forgot the four again.”
“I didn’t.” Her lip pops out in an adorable pout as her curls bounce with her determined movements. “Let’s do abc’s.”
I smile at her suggestion. Because I know she’s a stubborn ass and wants to change the subject because she kept messing up the four.
Aiden nods easily. “Alright, what about I quiz you?”
Evie’s face turns to the side, pout forgotten. “What’s quiz?”
“I’ll ask you questions.”
“Okay,” she says excitedly and I watch his smile pull up at the side again. He blows on her toes, drying the polish, then he looks back up at her gleeful eyes.
“What letter does Evie start with?”
“Eeee,” she answers automatically and his smile grows, impressed.
“Alright, smarty pants. What about my name?”
“Beee.”
“No, not Biggie,” he laughs. “But good job honey, that was right too.”
“What’s your name?”
“Aiden. Do you know what Aiden starts with?”
“A,” she answers quickly, but it almost sounds like ‘e’ and I wonder if he’ll mark her down.
“Alright, what about… toes?” he asks, tapping her toes, then blowing on them again. I’m surprised she’s sitting still for him for so long.
I probably would too though if he was that close to me and giving me a pedicure.
“Teee.”
“You’re so clever, Smalls. What about Mommy? What does that start with?”
“N,” she answers and I make the ‘bom bom’ noise in my head. Wrong.
“Close, honey. It’s M. Emm.”
“Emm,” she repeats, giving him her googly eyes and batting her lashes. I’m fairly certain she’s flirting with him and I bite my hand again. “What’s pretty start with?”
Aiden chuckles softly. “P for pretty.”
“Yeah,” she agrees, impressed with his spelling.
“Evie is pretty.”
She nods. She knows she’s pretty. I tell her a hundred times a day. “Mommy’s pretty too.”
He nods softly. “She is.”
At his admission, my heart beats eagerly in my chest, my stomach turning over and warmth filling my every pore.
My wildly pumping heart has the blood rushing through my body, forcing my new head wound to throb again.
Ouch.
“Mommy is the most b
eautiful princess,” Evie declares excitedly and I decide to break this party up before I die of embarrassment.
I enter the room, feigning ignorance. I heard nothing. I know nothing. “Hey baby.”
Aiden looks over at me lazily, his eyes moving up my legs, stopping at the tops of my thighs, then cruising higher and pausing over my left eyebrow.
I wonder if I still have blood. I know Iz cleaned me up, but I didn’t actually stop and look.
“Yeah Smalls.” Aiden lifts his body, hands and knees, then he flips up onto his feet. He turns back, taking her hands and pulls her up too. “She really is,” he murmurs softly and she smiles conspiratorially. “Are you ready to go?”
I take a step back from his approaching form. He’s so large and completely unapologetic for it. “Go where?”
“To the ER,” he replies easily, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe it is… to him.
“No.” I take another step back, scared that if I stay as close as he seems to want to be, I might reach up and touch his jaw. The way Evie is doing right now.
Damn, I’m consistently jealous of my daughter as far as he’s concerned. How is it she’s created this entire relationship with this man, exclusive of me?
“No?”
“No, I’m not going to the ER.”
His eyes narrow and I get the distinct feeling that he wants to physically throw me over his shoulder caveman style and take me there himself. “You need to go. You have a concussion. I can see it.”
“I don’t--”
“Are you seeing spots right now?”
Yes. But not much. It’s actually starting to calm already. “No.”
“Peaches, remember we’ve already done this.”
“Done what?”
“Where are your hands?” he asks, and my eyes shoot down to my interlaced fingers. Dammit.
“Don’t lie to me,” he shakes his head and smirks. My mouth goes dry. That smile is just so--
“So, ER then.”
“No seriously, I’m not going to the ER, Aiden. I have no insurance.”
“I’ll lend you the money then, easy.” He turns to leave, as though it’s all that easy, but it’s not. My vision is clearing and my cut has been closed. I just need some damn Advil and I’ll be fine.
