Hail Mary (The Mavericks Series)

by Julianna Marley

  Did she?

  And he didn’t remember his mother ever being so animated. She had given Erin and Holly a real hard run when they began dating his brothers, often spurring huge arguments that he and Rory sat back and watched while laughing.

  Shit.

  Refocusing on the television, he concentrated on the scores scrolling on the bottom of the screen. The last thing he needed was his mother conjuring up any kind of ideas about him and Whitney. This was not the same scene as his brothers. Whitney being here had nothing to do with meeting his parents and everything to do with that fact that he felt sorry for her. She had been through hell the past few months and watching her try really hard to convince him that she was going to be fine staying in Charleston, had him blurting out the invitation before he had a chance to think it through. He could have bailed. Could have just left first thing in the morning, driving past their exit. But he hadn’t been raised that way. And watching Whitney rock Quinn chuckling at something his mom said, he wasn’t regretting it. She looked happy. Really happy.

  “Food!” his ma yelled from the kitchen. The universal word for feeding time in their home. With four boys, all of which played sports, keeping food in the house had always been a challenge for his parents. One that he thankfully, was able to make a hell of a lot easier after he had signed with the Mavs.

  Wrapping his arm around Nicky, they both walked into the kitchen. “Uncle Shay, can I play in the football game tomorrow?” he asked before jumping in front of him. The annual Cunningham football game was an institution in his family. And one he had missed last year. Every single man in the family participated and it got dirty. Real dirty. But that’s how they liked it. “Please, Uncle Shay? I’m seven now. I’m practically a man,” Nicky begged and he felt bad for the kid. He remembered being forced to wait until he was old enough to join his brothers and uncles and the anticipation had nearly killed him. “Dad said we’d have to take a vote to see if I can handle it. Uncle Shay, I can handle it.”

  He was persistent. And determined. Another shared quality.

  “Can I count on your vote?”

  Laughing, he ruffled Nicky’s hair. “Yeah bud, you got my vote.”

  With Erin and Holly herding the kids into the dining room, working the table and juice boxes efficiently, he watched Whitney migrate from the large crowd. They had nearly attacked her the moment they arrived and she had handled it all better than he had anticipated.

  “Fi,” his pops grinned standing over the kitchen table, a large plate in his hand, “out of this world.”

  “Well eat up then. There’s more than enough,” his mom ordered bringing another dish out of the oven. His ma was only happy doing two things. Cooking food or shoving it down people’s throats. Neither of which had ever been a problem for him.

  Smiling widely, Whitney showed Quinn an ornament on a small tree his mom had resting on a table in the corner of the kitchen. Running her small fingers over the ornament, the white lights highlighted the side of Whitney’s face as he threw a potato cake into his mouth. He had never seen a woman more gentle and maternal than Whitney. And it was sexy as hell.

  Sexy?

  What the hell was going on with his head? Sexy was not how a child responded to a woman, it was how a woman responded to him. Sexy was crotchless panties and garter belts. And the thought of either of those things on her had him shoveling another cake into his mouth.

  “Whitney, sweetheart, come eat,” his mother insisted.

  Walking over, Whitney assessed the food. His mother was an authentic cook. Aside from being in the states for over two decades, he had never once seen her cook a single American dish. Grabbing Whitney a plate, he heard two voices state their arrival from the front door. Gripping the plate harder, he pushed his tongue against his teeth. Looking over his shoulder he saw his brother Rory walk in, his gaze cutting straight across the large kitchen.

  Eleven months and three days. That’s how far apart him and his older brother had been born. Going all through grade school and high school beside Rory with the same tall and solid build, freakishly long arms and a similar face to boot, they had learned at an early age to let everyone think what they wanted. That they were twins. And not that their parents hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other after having Rory, resulting in Shay less than a year later.

  “Well, well, well it’s a Thanksgiving miracle,” Rory snickered, his girlfriend behind him, her big red curly hair lighting up the subdued kitchen. “To what do we owe the pleasure, Hollywood?”

  Shifting his eyes slowly, he watched Whitney stare up at Rory, her mouth parting. Looking back at his brother, he didn’t take his eyes from him as he crossed the distance between them. Slowly handing the dinner plate to Whitney, he held out his hand to Rory. “Brother.”

  The kitchen was silent for the first time since he arrived as Rory considered him a moment. Looking around at everyone else in the kitchen, Rory stood taller before finally taking his hand, shaking it firmly. Too firmly to be sincere.

  Snickering again, Rory dropped his hand stepping aside. “You remember Siobhan, don’t you? Your future sister-in-law.”

  He wanted to flip him off at the backhanded dig. Figuring it would only escalate the tension even further, he thought better of it and shook his head. Yeah, he remembered her. The girl didn’t shut up. She was also a drama queen. She never really seemed to be an even match for Rory’s piss-ant attitude, but whatever made his brother happy he supposed. Ignoring Rory, he took Siobhan’s hand looking at the ring. Yucking it up about how beautiful it was because women loved that kind of shit, he grinned as she ate it up. It was just an added bonus that it seemed to annoy the shit out of his brother.

  “Didn’t get the memo that you were engaged,” he glanced over at Rory.

  “And I didn’t get the memo that the prodigal son was gracing us with his presence.”

  All my stars.

  Looking between Shay and his brother, Whitney’s eyes went round. Shay had a twin? She didn’t know why she was surprised that he never mentioned a twin brother before, but then again, why would he? They weren’t dating. They weren’t even really friends. Not technically. Although, he had seen more parts of her than any friend, right? Watching them a moment, she realized she wasn’t the only one. The kitchen seemed to slow down despite the prior frenzy. Cian picked at some food pretending not to listen while Erin stirred her straw quietly. The room was silent aside from the sounds of Nat King Cole circulating around the house. Finn and Holly sat at the high top table in the middle of the kitchen quietly as Shay’s papa stood behind Fiona, squeezing her shoulder, watching closely. She felt silly just standing there with Quinn wiggling in her arms and an empty plate. Wiping his mouth quickly, Shay wrapped his arm around her waist.

  What in the world?

  “Rory, this is Whitney.”

  Standing taller, the tension in the room picked up along with her pulse. He shouldn’t shake her this way. She shouldn’t be enjoying his fingers tightening against her side. Resisting the urge to turn and smack him like his mama had, she tightened her grip around Quinn. She knew why she was here. Every single brother had mentioned not seeing him in a real long while and he was using her and her daughter as a safeguard. Rory and his fiancée looked back at her as Quinn squealed again pulling her from her thoughts.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” she said quickly, reaching out, both hands full with a baby and a plate. Struggling, she chuckled nervously as Shay took the plate from her and she had visions of smacking it over his head.

  How dare he use her like this?

  Taking her hand, Rory’s mouth lifted and she nearly gasped. Apart from the fair freckles sprinkled across his nose and the orange tint to his hair, Rory was Shay. Or Shay was Rory, she wasn’t sure, but the same straight nose, passionate blue eyes, even the long eyelashes was uncanny.

  “And I didn’t get the memo that a jersey chaser had finally entrapped,” Rory looked between them and Quinn raising a brow.


  Narrowing his eyes as if warning him, Shay didn’t correct him.

  “Oh, no,” she said, carefully shaking her head. Why was everyone assuming that Quinn was Shay’s daughter? Sure it looked odd, but didn’t he talk to his family? Wouldn’t they have known?

  “Nice to meet you,” Rory said slowly, wrapping Siobhan into his side. Looking back at Shay, Rory stood taller and she had an odd sense that she was in the middle of a family crossfire.

  “Hi. I’m Siobhan,” the tall red head beside him smiled wildly, “Rory’s fiancée.”

  Yes, she got that part as she watched Shay and Rory stare back at each other. Should she move? Were fists about to fly?

  “She is just the sweetest little thing,” Siobhan cooed over Quinn, pinching her cheeks, earning a cry from Quinn. Crinkling her nose, Siobhan walked further into the kitchen nearly bouncing. “Hi y’all!”

  Popping an olive inside his mouth, Cian turned his back as Erin nearly darted to the dining room to check on the kids.

  “Ma!” Siobhan sang, towering over Fiona pulling her into an uncomfortable hug. “Here. I made these.” Not waiting for Fiona to ask, she began rambling excitedly. “They are Rueben Puffs and well, Rory just loves them and said that I am getting a lot better making your recipes, right baby?” she asked, turning towards him, again not waiting for a response. “And I thought, well, wait, I’m not saying that I’m a better cook than you, nobody is a better cook than you, but I just thought that,-”

  Good Lord, Whitney wanted to take a breath of air for her.

  “-Well, maybe you would like to serve them and I’m really glad that-”

  “-Will she take a breath at some point?’ Shay asked, checking his watch and Rory shot him a look.

  “Whitney, dear,” Fiona said, her eyes wide, making a direct line for her. “Eat something. Y’all had such a long trip,” she insisted, giving Rory a kiss before reaching for Quinn. “Give me this juicy baby and go eat, please.”

  Without waiting for a response she took Quinn from her arms, giving her a big kiss on the top of the head. Quinn’s fussing stopping immediately, Fiona danced across the kitchen with her. Watching Fiona make plates while holding Quinn simultaneously, she smiled. Quinn didn’t have this back home. Her mama wasn’t the hands-on type and she could count on two hands the number of times her mama had actually held her as a child. Every single one of those for a photo opportunity. Quinn’s small squeals melted her and she was glad she could give her daughter some small experience of a grandmaw. Even if it was just for forty-eight hours. Groaning quietly as Siobhan went into another stream of chattering with Shay’s father, Rory left them and for the first time she noticed his limp as he walked away.

  “I need to speak with you.” Grabbing Shay’s arm, she ignored the fact that she could barely wrap her hand around it. Struggling to pull him inside the hallway, she opened the first door she could find. Pushing him inside the room, she flipped on the switch, a dark bathroom lighting up.

  Smirking, Shay leaned back against the wall, “I never figured you for a get kinky in the bathroom kind of girl.”

  “Oh, shush!” she whispered loudly, standing taller, not that it mattered, he was still taller and bigger and wider than her. “You’re using me!”

  Crossing his arms across his chest he let out a sigh looking down at her. “Don’t be dramatic, Sunshine.”

  Her temper was beginning to flare. She hadn’t known why he insisted on her coming home with him and she hated that for a small second she thought that he had actually wanted her to come. But he didn’t. “How long has it been since you’ve been home?”

  Not missing the flash of tension in his eyes, he scoffed looking up at the celling.

  “How long Shay?”

  “A long time, alright,” he shot back, his eyes resting on hers. Leaning towards her, his eyes were set and she wrestled between smacking him or closing the space between their lips. Which would be absolutely crazy because all of this was absolutely crazy. “And I’m not using you,” he shook his head and the air seemed to thicken. “Trust me when I say that if I needed a chaperone around my own family, I wouldn’t have traveled eight hours with a woman who made me stop every hour for stale gas station cookies and one who has awful taste in music.”

  He still hadn’t answered the question.

  “Stop hogging the jacks,” a man yelled and she flinched at the loud knock on the door.

  “Bathroom,” he said simply, explaining the slang. “Relax, Sunshine,” he smirked and she knew he was trying hard to avoid the issue at hand. “You do remember how to do that don’t you?”

  No.

  “Yes,” she blurted back.

  “Good,” he grinned, running his thumb down her chin as he unlocked the door. “You could afford to crack that halo of yours a bit.”

  Reaching for her phone, Whitney rolled over taking most of the covers with her before getting comfortable again. She felt like she was being cradled by an angel. She had slept the best she had in months. After breathing a sigh of relief when Fiona had led her and Quinn to their own room at the end of the hallway, she had used Quinn as the excuse to retreat to bed early. She needed distance. Shay was baffling her, his family was vivacious and she hadn’t expected Fiona to be so accepting. She didn’t know what she had expected, but this wasn’t it. Scrolling with her pointer finger through the long stream of distressing text messages from Charlotte about everything from Myles’s family referring to her as his girlfriend to whining that there weren’t any decent spots for a quickie inside the house, she dropped her phone on her chest.

  Ha!

  How about Charlotte try being the decoy with the baby that every single member of Shay’s family had thought was his for a fleeting moment. Rolling over, she peeked inside the travel crib at Quinn, her big smile popping her pacifier out of her mouth.

  “Mornin’ my sweet angel,” she chuckled, lifting Quinn and bringing her into bed beside her. “Happy Thanksgiving.” For as crazy as Shay was making her and how overwhelming his family was, she was grateful. Grateful to be here because Quinn deserved this. She deserved a real family holiday and maybe next year once she finally recovered from Adam raiding her bank accounts and settling into a home of their own, than maybe she would find someone to spend it all with. Someone to start her own family traditions with. All the ones she hadn’t had growing up and the kind that she was determined to give to her daughter. Gently placing her nose against Quinn’s face, she inhaled her sweet powder smell, her heart filling. “I’m most thankful for you.”

  Putting on cartoons, Whitney sat Quinn inside her lap opening her laptop. Charlotte had decided overnight that she wanted to move forward with the fashion show idea and for as proud of her cousin as she was, she also wanted to wring her neck. Save the Date had one Thursday opening before they were entirely booked through the end of the year and Charlotte insisted that it needed to be before the New Year. Consulting with Ross on a few venues, she constructed a few emails knowing she wouldn’t hear anything until the end of the holiday weekend. Slipping off her glasses she aimlessly watched the cartoons with Quinn knowing that sooner or later she had to get up and make her way downstairs. At least half of the kids were already awake and screaming, as a crash came from both outside her window and outside her door. Erin had already been yelling for over an hour now about hanging kids upside down by their ankles. Rocking Quinn, she laughed quietly. What had she gotten herself into? But despite how overwhelming yesterday had been, she needed to make more of an effort today. Fiona and Patrick had been gracious enough to open their home to total strangers and they were genuinely warm and accepting people. She had almost forgotten that those types of parents actually existed. Showering quickly, she got dressed before slipping an orange dress onto Quinn. Adjusting her obnoxious headband on the side of her small head, she tamed her own wild hair with one hand. Stepping out of the bedroom door, a Nerf bullet whizzed by her head.

  “Kellan!” Finn raised his voice rushing past her. “Sorry, ladi
es.”

  “It’s okay,” she said quickly, walking down the hallway carefully, but not before glancing at the door she knew was Shay’s room. Making her way downstairs, she nearly tripped over a little girl sprawled out in the middle of the hardwood floor. Cassidy? No, Caitlin?

  “Darlin’, are you alright?” she asked.

  “Shhhh,” the girl shot back, opening one eye. “I’m dead.”

  “Ahhhhh, Lena moved. She’s out,” another dark-haired boy shouted.

  Growling up at Whitney, Lena trucked off beginning to count loudly for the whole house to hear. Inching through the foyer, Whitney looked at the photographs on the walls. The ones she had noticed yesterday, but hadn’t been able to enjoy. Finding the one she had originally assumed was Fiona with Shay and his brothers, she noticed the woman didn’t look like Fiona. She was taller and less petite with a smile that could stop traffic. Drawing in a breath, her heart leaped inside her throat.

  Grandmaw Quinn.

  The beautiful woman with a smile of gold was Shay’s grandmother. The one she had named her daughter after. Pointing up to the picture, she showed Quinn and she couldn’t help but tear up. She had heard him say his full name inside the hospital room and the moment the name rolled off his lips, she had known that was her baby’s name. Mostly because she had fallen in love with it, but also because she knew she wouldn’t have been able to get through that day without Shay. She hadn’t known it was his grandmother’s until Fiona had spent over an hour praising her mama last night, but she was proud that her baby girl was carrying on a name from such a wonderful family. Inching into the kitchen she watched Erin, Holly and Fiona bustle around the room, opening and closing refrigerator doors and pulling out mixing bowls. It was such a beautiful scene. Women in the kitchen preparing dinner with their mama. She had always wanted that. Thanksgiving mornings growing up had been spent watching their family’s personal chef prepare dinner. Matilda hadn’t spoken a word of English and so she had just watched her all morning before her mama fussed over what attire they would be wearing to sit down at the table.