by Megan Green
“So, I take it you know my new friend?”
Carter scoffs, shaking his head. “He isn’t your friend. Trust me. First chance he gets, he’ll stab you right in the back.”
“Ohh,” I squeal like a sorority girl waiting to get the dirty details. “Do tell.”
Carter just shakes his head again. “Ancient history. Just stay away from him. Believe me, you’re better off.”
I shrug. It’s not like I was planning on inviting the kid over for a sleepover, so we could paint each other’s toenails. My loyalty lies with my team. And, if Carter says the guy is bad news, then the guy is bad news.
“Got it. Now, let’s go get fucked up.”
I take a swig of my beer as I lean over onto the bar, desperately wishing I could have something a little stronger. When I told Carter we were going to get fucked up, I was slightly exaggerating. We have another game tomorrow. One beer is all we’re allowed the night before games.
Not that I’m complaining. Trying to play ball with a hangover is a bitch.
I look over to my boy, laughing at the uncomfortable expression on his face as a blonde chick bends over and presses her ass against his junk, gyrating in time to the music. I swear, the kid wouldn’t know what to do with a woman stripped naked and handcuffed to the bed.
Not for the first time, I find myself wondering at his story. When I first met him, I thought he might play for the other team, if you know what I mean. Not that it would have any bearing on his abilities as a ball player. I don’t give two shits what two consenting adults do behind closed doors. But, after getting to know him more these last few months during spring training and now the first part of the season, I’m pretty sure he likes chicks. He just doesn’t know what to do with them.
He denies it ten ways from Sunday, but I’m one hundred percent certain my boy is still hanging on to his V card.
One of these days, I’m going to find out why.
I mean, the guy might not be a Brandon Jeffers on a scale of one to ten, but he’s not half-bad-looking. And the girl currently trying to dry-hump him to death is clearly interested. But Carter never takes any women home.
I’m going to have to give him a few tips out of the old Jeffers handbook.
If I ever find it again, that is.
My thoughts immediately turn back to Liv, my hand instinctively going to my pocket to grab my phone. She still hasn’t texted me back. But that hasn’t stopped me from trying.
ME: We won again tonight. It’s early in the season, and I don’t want to jinx it. But World Champion Rampage has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?
I lock the screen and slide the phone back into my pocket, already knowing she’s not going to respond. I hope that she’ll either get sick of my annoyingly charming persistence and talk to me or she’ll get so pissed that she changes her number, and I can finally put this all behind me.
But my resolution from the other night still stands. As soon as I’m able, I’m hightailing it back to Maple Lake. And I’m going to fuck the Tinker Bell right out of my system. I don’t care how long it takes.
The sound of the stool sliding on the floor beside me pulls me from my thoughts, and I turn and watch as Tag plops his ass down next to me. His fingers toy with the label of the bottle in his hands, his gaze not lifting to mine even though he just sat down beside me.
He’s been acting funky for a few days now. I tried getting answers out of him today before warm-up, but the fucker wouldn’t talk. The only time I’ve ever seen him this out of sorts was when he and Lexi split for a bit. But he insists things are fine between them.
“You ever gonna tell me what’s eating at you, dude?” I ask when he doesn’t speak after a few moments.
His expression is pained as he turns to look at me.
“Fuck. I promised I wouldn’t do this. But you’re my best friend. I can’t let you sit in the dark on this one.”
I raise a brow in question. “And is that supposed to make sense to me? Care to try speaking English instead of whatever riddle that was supposed to be?”
He sighs as he looks back down at the bar. “Lexi is going to kill me.”
I put my hand on his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. “Look, if it’s that important to her, then I don’t want to know. I happen to like you alive. You field my balls better than anyone else,” I say, giving him a suggestive wink.
But his expression doesn’t change. “No, you need to know.”
“Well, then, tell me. Because I’m sick of watching your mopey ass saunter around all day like someone stole your favorite G.I. Joe.”
“It’s about Liv.”
My ears perk up at the sound of her name. “What about her? Is she okay?”
He shakes his head. “That’s all I’m going to say. That, and you need to get your ass back to Maple Lake ASAP.”
“Why?” I ask, not telling him I was already planning on doing just that next week when we got a break.
“Just go. I cleared it with Coach. After the game tomorrow night, you’re good to take off for a few days until the next game. He’s cool with you missing a few practices.”
Coach doesn’t let anyone miss practice. Last year, when Singer was sick as fuck with the flu, Coach told him to stop being such a pansy ass and made him run doubles.
“Dude, you’re kind of freaking me out. What’s so damn important in Maple Lake that it can’t wait till break next week?”
Tag turns to look at me, his expression somber. “Your entire life is about to change.”
Chapter 7
Liv
I walk out of the OB/GYN’s office with at least a dozen pamphlets, some samples of prenatal vitamins, and definitive proof that there is actually another person growing inside me. I look down at the ultrasound photo again as I step inside the elevator. It doesn’t look like much to me—just a bunch of black-and-white fog with a dark shape in the middle that my doctor insists is my baby.
During the ultrasound, I wasn’t convinced that maybe the pregnancy tests hadn’t been false positives. I wasn’t seeing much by way of a fetus. But then the Doppler switched on, and the sound of my baby’s heartbeat flooded the room. And damn it all to hell if that didn’t instantly bring tears to my eyes.
This is real. I am carrying a real-life child inside me.
And, instead of the fear I’d thought I would feel when it was finally confirmed, all I felt was an overwhelming sense of love.
Even now, as I walk out of the hospital and to my car, I can’t shake the all-consuming feeling that I’m finally a part of something so much bigger than me.
I’m going to have a baby. I’m going to be someone’s mom.
What greater joy is there in the world than that?
I click the button on my key fob to unlock my car, grinning at the complete about-face I’ve done in the week since I peed on all those damn sticks.
If you’d asked me even two weeks ago if I’d ever even considered having children, I would’ve laughed in your face and told you not to be a moron. Hell, I said something along those lines to Lexi when she first brought up the topic that day in the bookstore. But look at me now, waxing all poetic about the joys of motherhood.
Must be the pregnancy hormones. Because this is so not like me.
I toss the literature the doctor gave me on the passenger seat beside me before turning over the engine and backing out of my spot.
I drove nearly an hour and a half to get here this morning, and I’m not exactly looking forward to the drive back. But I hadn’t wanted to go to the only OB in Maple Lake. One, because he’s, like, ninety years old and refuses to retire even though he sometimes shakes so bad, the glasses slide right off his face. I still cringe whenever I think about the one time I went to him for a Pap smear. And, two, because I still wasn’t quite ready to spill the beans to everyone in town. I know it’s only a matter of time before they all find out—I mean, it’s not like I can hide something the size of a basketball growing under my shirt—but I want to wait.
Call me selfish. Call me vain. But I’m just not ready for the looks they’re sure to give me. Besides, I’m enjoying basking in this new pregnancy glow all by myself without the prying eyes and questions of my so-called friends and neighbors.
I do need to tell Charlie though. I can’t hide something like this from him for long. Besides, I know there’s no way he’ll look at me with anything but joy when he finds out he’s going to be a papa.
I hope.
Maybe I’ll invite him over for dinner tonight. Break the news to him over a plate of spaghetti. That always seems to soften him up.
I make a mental note to stop at the grocery store to grab the ingredients when I’m back in Maple Lake. And, as if summoned by the thought of food, my stomach chooses that moment to grumble its protest at my lack of sustenance.
I came to the doctor, fasting, this morning, not sure if they’d need to do any sort of blood work or something. But I am definitely feeling it now.
And, as if a sign from God himself, the familiar brightness of the Golden Arches comes into view. I normally try to stay away from greasy fast food, but fuck it. I’m eating for two now.
I’m stuffing the first cheeseburger in my mouth as I pull my car onto the freeway. The drive back to Maple Lake passes much quicker than the drive out did, French fries and Diet Coke much better travel companions than my thoughts. I turn up the music on the radio, belting out the lyrics alongside Adele as I cruise down the road.
Girl had better watch out. I could give her a run for her money.
Yeah, and Kristen Stewart is the best actress Hollywood has ever seen.
I grin at my mental admonishment, continuing to slaughter “Rolling in the Deep” in the most off-key note possible.
When I finally pull into my driveway after the brief stop at the store, I’m in just about the best mood I’ve ever been in. I’ve had my appointment, I’ve had my food, and I’ve had my tunes.
Life is good.
Until a familiar shaggy head of hair rises from the lounger on my front porch the moment I slam the car door shut.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Brandon waves sheepishly, like he didn’t quite think of how to explain his presence here before now. I stop dead in my tracks, watching as he descends the few steps from my porch and steps out into the grass below.
“Hey, Liv,” he says with a grin, his hands hooking into his back pockets when he reaches me. His eyes travel up and down my body, the soft smile he was sporting turning into something much more carnal as he takes me in. “You’re looking good.”
If my brain were working properly, I’d ask him what he was doing here. But, instead, all I can do is stare at him and notice all the ways he’s looking good as well.
His jeans cling tightly to his muscular thighs, the waistband slung low on his hips. His navy T-shirt is tucked into the front of those jeans, causing the fabric to stretch tightly across his ripped abdomen. Memories of my fingers trailing along each and every one of those ridges flood my mind, and I suddenly feel like I can’t breathe.
Who turned up the heat out here?
Brandon pulls one of his hands from his pocket, running the long fingers through his unkempt hair. “So, uh…” he says, his uncertainty clear in his wavering voice. “You’re probably wondering why I’m here.”
I still haven’t spoken a damn word, but I can’t seem to start now. All I can do is nod.
“Well, see…” he starts, his eyes dropping down to my hand, as if he needs to look anywhere other than my face while he tries to explain his sudden appearance on my front porch. His eyes flick away from my hand for a moment as he thinks but snap back almost immediately. “What the fuck is that?” he asks, his eyes narrowing in on the brochures in my hand.
My head drops down until my gaze falls on the pregnancy pamphlets my doctor gave me. I was so distracted by Brandon’s presence, I forgot all about the incriminating evidence in my hand.
I immediately tuck it behind my back, my words finally finding their way. “Nothing. It’s nothing.” My voice is shrill, my tone panicked, as I rack my brain for some sort of explanation I can give him that doesn’t involve the truth.
Smooth, Liv. Real smooth. He’s totally going to buy that.
“It sure as hell doesn’t look like nothing. What the hell is going on, Liv?” The brusqueness of his tone snaps me out of my trance.
Who in the hell does he think he is, showing up here months after the fact and demanding shit from me?
“What are you doing here, Brandon?” I ask, my voice conveying the fact that I’ve had enough with the bullshit already.
“Tag told me I needed to get my ass back here ASAP. Even went so far as to arrange it with our coach. I thought he just wanted me to get laid again, but now…” He trails off, his neck craning to try and get a better look at the pamphlets I’m hiding.
Fucking Lexi. I’m going to kill her.
“Well, I’m sorry you made an unnecessary trip. Because I can assure you, you’re not getting laid. At least, not here. Better head into town and see if you can find someone else ready and willing.”
I move to step around him and head to my front door, hoping he’ll get the hint and get the hell off my property. Unfortunately for me though, he’s not that bright. He steps in front of me, halting my progress of getting my ass inside and out of this situation.
“Is it mine?”
Heat flares throughout my entire body at his question. Not only has he shown up, unannounced, ruining what was previously a pretty damn good day, but now, he has the audacity to ask me if the baby I’m carrying is his.
I shove past him, huffing out my frustration as my shoulder connects with his arm. But, before I can get more than two steps away from him, his strong fingers close around my forearm, spinning me back around to face him.
“Don’t walk away from me, Liv. I have a right to know.”
Lexi’s words echo through my head, as Brandon’s are an exact replica of what she said to me the night before she left town.
“If you’ll excuse me, I have a best friend I need to kill,” I say, trying to pull out of his grip.
His fingers tighten their hold—not enough to be painful, but hard enough to let me know I’m not going anywhere until he gets answers.
I deflate, all the anger and irritation at Lexi fading as I realize I only have myself to blame for this mess. Why did I think I could get away with not telling Brandon I was having his kid?
My eyes fall down to my feet, my toes drawing invisible circles in the dirt driveway as I answer, “Of course it’s yours. I haven’t been with anyone else.”
I hear a sharp intake of breath at my admission, and when I lift my eyes to meet his, I might almost say there’s a hint of satisfaction in his chocolate pools. But that’s impossible.
“And you just weren’t going to tell me?”
I shrug. “I didn’t think you’d want to know. I don’t expect anything from you, Brandon. I don’t want you to think I put Lexi up to this, hoping you’d rush back and rescue me or some shit. I’m prepared to do this fully on my own.”
Brandon’s nostrils flare as the words tumble past my lips. “And what made you think I’d be okay with that?”
I scoff. “Because you’re you. You’re Brandon fucking Jeffers. You need a baby in your life like I need a hole in the head.”
His fingers loosen their hold on my arm. His hands go to his hair as he spins and takes a few steps away from me, his chin dropping to his chest as he mutters something under his breath.
After a few moments, he turns on his heel and faces me again. “I need some time to process this. This wasn’t what I was expecting to find when I showed up on your doorstep.”
“You don’t need to process anything. Like I said, I’m fine. We’re fine,” I add, placing my hand over my stomach.
His eyes flash as they fall to where my hand rests, his lips curling up in what I can only describe as a protective sneer.
“You’re not making that decisio
n for me, Liv. I need to think. And you need to go inside and rest. I’ll be back in a few hours. And don’t try to pull that bullshit you did the last time I was in town. If you’re not here when I get back, I will find you. We’re going to talk about this.”
All I can do is nod, hoping that, after he’s had a few hours to cool down, he’ll realize I’m right and that the best place for him to be is back in Seattle with his teammates.
He gives me a resolute nod, checking the time on his watch before telling me he’ll be back at five. “I’ll bring something for dinner. Is there…is there anything else you need? Anything for the baby?”
My heart flutters momentarily at the earnestness in his words, his voice cracking ever so slightly as his eyes fall back to my flat tummy. I shake it off though. He’s not going to stay. There’s no sense in reading too much into his actions.
“No, we’re okay. I’ll see you in a bit.”
He absently nods his head, obviously retreating back into his thoughts. He turns and heads out to the truck parked at the curb—how in the hell did I not notice that when I pulled up?—but pauses when he reaches the door.
“Please be here when I get back, Liv. Please.”
I give him a small wave. “I will.”
I had every intention of running and hiding at Charlie’s as soon as he pulled away. But, after that last heartfelt plea, I know I can’t do it.
I owe him that much at least.
I’ll talk to him. I’ll explain everything. I’ll open myself back up to him and let him into my life, however briefly.
And, when he inevitably breaks my heart and heads back out of town, I’ll use what little courage and resilience I have left to pick up the pieces and build a beautiful life for me and my baby.
I have no other choice.
Chapter 8
Brandon
When Tag told me my entire life was going to change, I thought he was being a facetious bastard. I thought he was giving me shit for my distracted behavior lately and was ribbing me about Liv being able to rock my world for one more night.
