The Brawler: The End Game Series (Book 3)

by Piper Westbrook

  “Laugh?”

  “Yes. I hate crying. Crying sucks. And the props? Totally pointless idea. See—” she took the doll from Leigh and yanked down his swim trunks “—Ken has no penis.”

  Leigh dashed off toward the living room in a haze of black leather, but her cackling laugh could probably be heard next door.

  Maddie looked desperately relieved to hear laughter. “Can I go now?” she asked. “There’s a new competition show on the Food Network. And can I bring Rabbit’s cage in my room?”

  Aly waved Barbie in surrender. She would be patient and supportive because Maddie needed her to be. In the living room, she sat beside her friend. “I dreamed I murdered the asshole who did this to her.”

  “Aly, listen to me. Please don’t tell Maddie.”

  “I feel like a liar, urging her to get past this—to heal—when I can’t.”

  “She was right. You shouldn’t force her or yourself past this. That’s not what it means to heal. It’s okay to be angry. But it’s okay to want, I don’t know, normalcy.”

  “Okay.” Aly nodded. “Big Parenting Moment was not a success.”

  “Oh, I’m thinking you’ll get another chance soon.” Leigh picked up her purse, cocked her head to listen for the pitter-patter of a teenager’s feet. “During the emergency doll mission, I, um, got something for you.”

  Then she yanked out a box and plopped it on Aly’s lap.

  A pregnancy test.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way,” Leigh said hastily, pushing her dark hair behind her ears. “Cranky. Nauseous. Light-headed. You’ve been all of those things the past couple of weeks. Did you miss the end of your sentence?”

  “No—wait—” Oh, God. “I’m late, but I figured it had to do with external stuff. Stress. My MBA program, Rabbit, Maddie, the team.”

  “Take the test.”

  Holing up in her private bathroom while Leigh raided the closet—what was the point of friends having the same shoe size if they didn’t share sexy footwear?—Aly followed the test instructions and held off panicking…

  Until a positive result popped up on the test stick.

  “Leigh!” Her friend rushed into the bathroom, glanced at the stick. “I can’t breathe.”

  “Yes, you can, Aly.”

  “I cannot be pregnant. I—I have a foster kid and a rabbit and a house. I’m already doing the grown-up thing.”

  “Calm yourself.”

  “But how can I be pregnant?”

  “I’m guessing your mom’s idea of sex ed with dolls really was pointless.”

  Her parents had asked her to keep away from scandals. Only, she hadn’t. She’d had sex with Jackson Batiste—a lot of sex—and was now pregnant. And when the public found out…

  When her family found out…

  When Jackson found out…

  “This stays here,” she said. “How I handle this is my choice.”

  “But the father—”

  “Won’t be a part of this. He can’t be. He’s…”

  “The man who left this house about an hour ago, isn’t he?”

  Aly closed her eyes, nodding. She wanted to deny it, but it felt unforgivably wrong to start her baby’s life on a paternity lie.

  Her baby.

  Just a few weeks of secrecy until Jackson left Las Vegas. It was all the time she needed to adapt to yet another change and cope with the reality that fairy tales weren’t meant for her. Her reality was unconventional and full of surprises.

  Before going to bed, she went to the winter tree, found a branch with the word laughter in Maddie’s handwriting, and smiled. She grabbed paper, pen, and ribbon and waited for a moment with a hand pressed to her belly.

  Then she wrote.

  Surprises.

  * * *

  Foregoing her lunch break for a sandwich in the head coach’s office and a visit to the owners’ suite, Aly took a seat across from her father’s desk. “Dad, I just reviewed some films with Coach Walsh, and I have a suggestion for the NFC championship game—”

  J.T. raised a hand, fidgeting with his necktie. “Joan’s not here to humor you and I don’t have the energy today, Aly. We’d appreciate it if you’d apply your attention completely to the publicity and marketing floor. Walsh’s office, the managers’ wing, and the owners’ suite aren’t where you belong.”

  “Didn’t my suggestion to hold a meeting with the roster about the Tarantino claims prove valuable? Haven’t our men’s numbers been excellent compared to previous weeks?”

  “Joan and I consulted our GM and coach and made a group decision to do that.”

  “Sir, it appears you’re making deliberate efforts to ignore my potential and commitment to the team.” Aly crossed her legs, folded her hands. “Is it not obvious by now that my interests are in business operations?”

  J.T. sat forward, resting his thick arms on the desk. “An NFL team’s business operations are a little off the beaten path for a new graduate who majored in communications.”

  “But not if that graduate immediately pursued an MBA program.”

  “What?”

  “I’m enrolled at Lee Business School. Have been since the fall.”

  “But you’re taking care of Maddie—”

  “And a bunny and a house and volunteer work.” And a baby, in her womb, already relying on her. “I’m handling it, Dad.”

  “Where does your drinking and pot-smoking and sleeping around fit in?”

  Well, that stung, but she’d in the recent past given him cause to be concerned. “Part of adjusting is knowing when and how to adjust priorities. My suggestions—the ones you’ve reluctantly listened to, the ones you’ve ignored—for this team have all been effectual.”

  “A few months of business school isn’t enough to grant you decision-making power in this aspect of our franchise, Aly. It just isn’t.”

  “What about twenty-three years of being your daughter? I grew up watching you and Mom surpass success. You bought this team to reach new levels of wealth and power. You want employees who take risks, who are…” Confident.

  You sound unsure of yourself. Confidence is vital in publicity, Aly.

  Vital in publicity, vital in business altogether. Had her mother been offering a clue in that smooth, impassive way that was uniquely Joan?

  “Damn it, Dad, I’m not afraid to put in hard work, make tough decisions.” She abandoned her chair and he stood, as well. Sure, give her courtesy when she was on her way out the door. “I’m fucking important. You will need me.”

  Aly grabbed the door lever as a sickening thud sounded. Whirling, she saw sunlight streaming over marble and leather and glass. J.T. no longer stood with his hand extended toward the door.

  He was crumpled on the floor.

  Screeching for security, Aly sprinted to the desk, yanked the phone off its base, and dropped down beside him. This couldn’t be happening. Not to J.T. Greer. Not her father.

  * * *

  It didn’t take long for the swarm to find them. Team physicians, accompanied by Waverly in her trainer uniform, had reached the owners’ suite shortly after security. A thready pulse was what Aly had felt, pressing two fingers to her father’s neck.

  Barely a sign of hope, but enough to cling to for J.T.’s sake—for the sake of those depending on her to be resilient.

  With Waverly joining paramedics in the ambulance, Aly had let her friend Chelle drive her to the medical center where J.T. was admitted. Instead of his high-profile status deterring media and prodding people to respect the Greer family’s privacy, it had drawn a crowd.

  The crowd was outside, in the lobby, trying to breach security blockades stationed at the elevators.

  “You’d feel better if you sat down, at least for a second,” Chelle said from the emergency room waiting lounge.

  Aly lingered in the entryway, glimpsing faces and not seeing any of the people who’d wheeled her father away on a gurney. “Knowin
g Dad is going to survive this is the only thing that’ll make me feel better.”

  “Joan is on her way, isn’t she?”

  Aly nodded. Joan had taken the jet to California for a magazine photo shoot and interview, but had cut everything short to get back to Nevada.

  “And your sister Veronica?”

  “She’s picking Maddie up from school and bringing her here.”

  The sports program on the giant flat-screen television was once again interrupted with the breaking news that had been reported twice in the past half hour: Las Vegas Villains owner J.T. Greer collapses at stadium. Condition not yet released.

  Reporters rattled off “possible” details, commentators promised viewers up-to-the-moment news. They posed a question for social media debate. How do you think J.T. Greer’s health will affect the Villains’ performance in the NFC championship game this weekend?

  Aly had her own questions.

  Where was humanity, the compassion for a man whose life dangled in the balance?

  How could the media think they were entitled to information Aly didn’t have?

  How could she be relegated to an ER waiting area when she wanted to be as close to J.T.’s treatment room as her sister Waverly was?

  “The team must release a press statement,” Chelle said hesitantly. “I can handle this at the stadium if you don’t—”

  “I need to be involved. I want nothing official going out that my parents wouldn’t green-light.”

  “Okay.” Chelle stood, joined her in the entryway. “The best cardiologist in the area quit a golf game to come here and treat your father. That’s a big deal.”

  Aly sighed, and tension eased. “Thanks, Chelle.”

  A soft buzz sounded and Chelle plucked her cell phone from her pocket. Quickly, she swiped the screen, tapped a response, and pocketed the device. “Odette says she’s sending you and your family good thoughts.”

  “I appreciate that….” Aly turned to her friend as realization slowly settled. “Are you and Odette friends now, or…?”

  “Or.” Chelle’s mouth trembled as it formed a hesitant smile. “The night of the party, at Club Indiscretion, I quit lying. We had sex. It was…”

  “Friggin’ hot?”

  “Yes, definitely that. And it was terrifying. And right. I’ve been so scared, but at the end of all that fear was Odette. This thing between us, it’s still new, though.”

  “But are you happy?”

  Chelle’s nod was slight, but certainty shimmered in her eyes. “Yeah.”

  “Maybe you should go and be with the person who makes you happy. Seems we should take every happy minute we can get, because…” Tears threatened and she stopped talking.

  “Sit down, Aly. It might take off some of the stress. I don’t want to see you getting all damsel-in-distress fainty the way you’ve been the past couple of weeks.”

  Would J.T. never meet his first grandchild? Why had she kept her pregnancy a secret? Why had she wasted time being afraid of a miracle?

  “I’m pregnant.”

  “Who’s— Oh. The guy you talked about at Soixante Neuf? The one you said is zero good for you?”

  A nod.

  “Does he know?”

  A headshake. “He can’t give me what I need, and here I am giving him what he said he doesn’t want.”

  “How can you hold him to that, now that there’s actually a baby—his baby—inside you?”

  Aly had to. The other option? Screw things up further with talk of love and a baby and the fact that she wanted Jackson the man, not Jackson the boxer.

  She couldn’t force him to relinquish his entire life to be who she needed him to be. Sometimes love meant letting go.

  “He should have a say, Aly.”

  “It’s not that simple! I had a plan—a down-the-road plan. An uncomplicated husband, a baby, and a dog, in that order. A month ago I was single and lonely. Now I have a bunny rabbit, a foster kid, and a baby on the way.” Tears licked down her cheeks and she brushed them off. “I’m not lonely anymore, but I’m permanently and utterly in love with a man who, even if he does love me back, doesn’t want to. My father had a heart attack today. I’m simultaneously the happiest and most miserable I’ve been in my life.”

  “If you love this guy, shouldn’t he be here with you now?”

  “I haven’t told him, because love can be trouble. For anyone. Young, old, straight, gay, rich, poor.”

  Chelle hugged her. “Let’s get you to your dad. Right now.”

  Navigating the emergency floor, they saw Waverly slip into a treatment room as a nurse exited. Pulling the nurse aside, Aly gleaned her father had experienced a coronary artery spasm—and was expected to recover without complications.

  Waiting outside the door, Aly knew she oughtn’t listen to her sister’s one-sided conversation with J.T. but couldn’t resist her eavesdropper’s instincts.

  “Dad, it’s serious,” Waverly was saying, kneeling beside the bed. “I’m going to marry him…”

  Was that Waverly’s secret?

  Were all three Greer girls hiding something they should be celebrating?

  Over the next hour, J.T. was transferred to a private suite, which then quickly became congested with family and business associates.

  Together, Aly and Chelle worked from their phones to draft an official team statement to send to the head of their department for approval and release. While her father’s suite was still bombarded with visitors, Aly found a quieter place to help Maddie with her algebra homework.

  Eventually, Joan arrived and stationed herself at her husband’s bedside. Chelle offered to buy Maddie dinner in the cafeteria, and Aly let them go, wandering into her father’s hospital room and fully expecting to be ordered right back out.

  Joan was disheveled, wrecked, and completely beautiful. Sparing her daughter a brief glance, she returned her attention to a sleeping and heavily medicated J.T. “You’re the other half of me. You’re my partner in everything. Who am I without you?”

  “Without Dad and without any of your children, you’re still you,” Aly said, bending to wrap her arms around her mother. “Strong, complex Joan.”

  Joan untangled herself from Aly’s embrace. “When an already sensitive girl becomes overemotional, this is the end result?”

  “So what if it is? Mom, you have an identity that’s independent of your marriage and motherhood.”

  “Oh, Aly. From the lips of a girl who doesn’t have the commitments of marriage and motherhood.”

  “But I will—at least one of them.”

  Joan’s spine pulled straight, and she settled a pair of narrowed eyes on Aly.

  “There’s something you should know.” Coward’s way out, maybe, but Aly hugged her mother tight. Joan’s strength made her buoyant, and if she lent her support instead of banishing Aly out of the family, then they stood a chance of getting through this.

  “I don’t think you should say more right now.”

  But she had to. “Mom, I’m enrolled at UNLV’s business school.”

  Joan sighed, and her entire body relaxed as though someone had deflated her. “Oh! Oh, thank God. For a moment I—” she laughed, sniffled “—well, I thought you were going to say you’re pregnant.”

  “And I’m pregnant.” Tighter she clutched, but there was only resistance.

  “Are you serious, Aly? Today you baited J.T. into an argument about your suitability for the front office, all while hiding a pregnancy?”

  “Dad didn’t collapse from having a conversation with his daughter.”

  “I’m sure your constant bitching didn’t assuage his stress. Get your hands off me.”

  Aly bit the inside of her cheek to keep her expression steady, to keep herself from crumpling. J.T. had urged her to drop the issue, but like both of her parents, she wouldn’t back down. “If I’d known his heart was— Mom, I wouldn’t purposely endanger Dad.”

  “So you say. Yo
u also say you care about what’s best for business. How is whoring yourself out and winding up pregnant best for our company?”

  Aly finally let her go, keeping her voice lowered and patient out of consideration for her father and because she didn’t have the energy for anger when she wanted happiness. “I don’t see it that way, and I didn’t tell you because of this reaction precisely.”

  “An unplanned pregnancy, single motherhood? Christ, Aly, were you too stoned to use protection?”

  “I wasn’t stoned.”

  “Do you have a clue who the father is?”

  “Yes, because the spreadsheet you recommended to keep track of all the men who fucked me has kept me very organized,” she said sarcastically. “Mom, there’s only one possibility. One.”

  “Then you’re in an actual relationship and it’s not emotionless sex?”

  What could she call what Jackson and she shared? There was sex—plenty of it, and it was so mind-melting and boundary-crossing that they kept coming back for more. There were emotions—too many that ran too deep. “I’m in love with this baby’s father, but he doesn’t know there is a baby.”

  “Does he love you?”

  “I can’t say.”

  “You can’t say? Who the hell is this man?” Joan’s face scrunched in a genuine scowl, which Aly would venture to guess hadn’t happened since before her pageant days. “J.T. and I were worried you couldn’t last through play-offs. We were certain you’d ignore our warnings and satisfy your need to screw up.”

  “Yes, and you were planning to fire me from the Villains after play-offs.”

  “Okay, so Jackson talked. That’s fine. A man has his reasons for the choices he makes. What would’ve been helpful, though, was if he’d actually protected you from this cluster. He gave his word that he’d keep you…close.” Joan stared up at Aly. “You and Jackson were close, these past several weeks. Now you’re knocked up.”

  “I let myself love somebody, Mom. That’s all.”

  Joan’s nostrils flared, and her attention momentarily shifted to something beyond Aly’s shoulder. “What’s his name, Aly?”