Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 75754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
The coach just gave me a roll of the eyes as I ran up to the dugout and started tugging off my helmet.
“I gotta go,” I said urgently.
He nodded. “That’s fine. You just won the game, anyway.”
I probably did, but it was up to my team to shut it down completely in the next three innings.
“Thanks,” I said, hurrying down the field.
I jumped the fence that sat directly in front of my family, and dropped down to one knee in front of my wife.
“Ready?” I asked.
I could see that her water had broken.
But she just sat there, as patient as could be, waiting for me to arrive.
“Yep. Let’s do this.”
Then, to the fan’s delight, I carried my woman out of the stadium.
***
I picked up the soft, pale yellow body suit, and smiled before tossing it into the dirty clothes hamper by the cleanest corner.
It was the same body suit that Ruthie had picked out for her little Jade to wear home from the hospital.
We’d put it onto Cormac for all of thirty seconds before he’d shit all over it.
He’d had to come home in the hospital’s white shirt that declared him a ‘Superstar.’
Which had chapped Ruthie’s ass something fierce.
I’d had to explain to her that it’d be easier to go home with our child rather than sending me home for the outfit that she had for him as a backup.
Something I’d mistakenly taken home with me earlier in the afternoon when I was trying to help out.
Now we were all home, and our house was filled to the brim with family.
Silas and Sawyer.
Sebastian and Baylee.
Kettle and Adeline.
Viddy and Trance.
Loki and Channing.
Rue and Cleo.
Tru and Torren.
My mom. Ruthie’s dad.
Our brother and sister.
Dixie.
Garrison.
Thomasina.
Lily, Dante, and their two children.
And many, many more.
There were so many people that they’d had to spill out on the back deck.
But I wouldn’t change it for the world.
“Here, hold him for a second, would you?” Ruthie asked as she yanked her shirt down and exposed her breasts.
My eyes widened, and my cock instantly became hard.
But that was the way it was with my Ruthie.
It didn’t matter that she’d just pushed out a baby the size of a small house.
Her breasts weren’t affected, and my cock didn’t seem to care that they were now going to go hand in hand with our son for the next year.
All it cared about was the fact that it hadn’t had any of Ruthie for well over a week.
The small ball of life in my arms made a grunting sound before he started to wail his little lungs out, one of the sweetest sounds I’d ever heard.
“Will you change him?” She asked.
I winced.
I’d yet to do that.
I was worried I’d break him.
“I guess,” I said reluctantly.
She snorted as she worked a shirt on over her breasts.
A breast-feeding tank that would tank tops would make feeding Cormac easier for her, especially when I wasn’t here to help.
“Hurry up,” she laughed. “We have a house full of people.”
That we did.
Carefully I opened the door that lead into the hallway, then continued down to Cormac’s room.
His room was a baseball lover’s dream.
Signed balls lined shelves.
The walls were painted to resemble a baseball field.
The bedding was white with red stitching just like a baseball.
Seriously, every kid in their right mind would love this room.
Hell, after seeing it, I’d wanted to do my own man cave to resemble it.
Which was quickly shot down by Ruthie since she’d made the only other spare room into a sewing room.
Something she’d taken to doing when she quit her job at Halligans and Handcuffs to make up the difference in income.
She was actually doing quite well at it, too.
Not that she needed to.
She just wanted to.
Which was okay with me.
Except for the monogramming.
Every fucking thing Cormac had had his initials, or name, or something cutesy on it.
Poor kid was going to grow up with a complex if she kept it up.
I placed a soft kiss on Cormac’s head before I sat him down carefully on the soft changing pad.
I was nearly to his diaper when I was interrupted.
“Got a call today about a certain foster father,” Silas said from behind me.
I raised a brow at him, placing my hand on the middle of Cormac’s chest to keep him on the changing table while my eyes weren’t on him.
“Oh yeah?” I asked nonchalantly.
Silas nodded, coming into the room.
He had his own little girl, Amelia, asleep on his chest.
She was the absolute cutest thing I’d ever seen.
Besides my own child, of course.
Who would’ve thought that we’d all be having kids together with such an age gap between us?
“Seems he took a fall in the yard, had to go to the infirmary. Sustained a broken femur, broken hand, fracture to his right eye socket, and a concussion.”
“Hmm,” I said. “Imagine that.”
I made sure to have my good ol’ foster father taken care of every few weeks or so.
He healed, and he seemed to have another accident.
He was a klutz, after all.
“And seems John Wait had another setback with his treatment,” Silas continued. “He’s been given a new medication that makes him nearly comatose when he’s on it. It’s a thing of beauty.”
I smiled at my son as he wiggled around, hating the fact that I’d just exposed his goods to the cool air.
I covered him quickly with the stupid pee-pee tee-pee thing that Ruthie had gotten at her baby shower.
Something I hadn’t realized that was needed until I’d watch Ruthie, and my mother, get peed on earlier this morning.
Something I didn’t want happening to me, hence why using the tee-pee thing.
“That’s a cryin’ shame,” I said, reaching for the diaper and looking at it.
John Wait was declared clinically insane after he was found guilty of murdering Cormac.
And although he said he’d never thought it would go as far as killing her, he’d still cut Ruthie’s brakes.
Had still killed my brother.
Which was why I also went out of my way to see that John’s medications were changed every couple of weeks, so that he was always going to be ‘unwell.’