Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 87255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
He pulls me into a hug, rocking me back and forth like our mother used to do when we were little.
Memories of our life with her roll through my mind, duller than they used to be. Less vivid. Mom’s voice less distinct.
Making homemade ice cream on hot summer days. Building forts in the living room, using every blanket in the house. Watching her sitting proudly as she watched Brock graduate from high school.
The hole in my heart from the loss of our mother is as gaping as it was the day she passed. Imagining adding Brock to that wound is unbearable.
I pull away, wiping my hands down my face.
His eyes are watery—something I’ve only seen on him once before. It breaks my heart.
“I’ll quit,” he says softly.
I take his hand.
He smiles sadly. “I’ve tried to talk myself out of it, telling myself I only have two years left on my contract. That it’s a lot of money to turn down. That the odds I’d get hurt are pretty low …” He sighs. “But I can’t do that to you. I know I can’t anyway.” He sniffles, the sound transforming into a laugh. “Ella is pregnant.”
“What?” My voice is a shriek, and I spring to my feet. “What did you say?”
“I’m gonna be a daddy, B.”
“Oh. My. God!” I bounce on the tips of my toes, laughing. “Brock! When is she due? How long have you known? Why did no one tell me?”
He chuckles. “She found out the day she got home from Vegas. I found out yesterday.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Marry the fuck out of her.”
I smile so big it hurts. Then reality hits me. I smack him in the arm. “And Renn knew all of this, and I didn’t?”
“He didn’t know about the baby. Just the physical part.”
“Why did he not tell me? Why am I just finding out?”
“I asked him not to,” he says, standing. “I wanted to tell you in person so I could assure you I was okay.” He hugs me again. “You’re kind of my little sister but kind of my kid, too. I want to protect you as much as I can.”
“I know you do. And I appreciate you more than I can ever tell you.”
He rubs the top of my head. I swat his hand away.
“Okay. I have to go file some paperwork with my attorneys,” he says.
“And I need to call my best friend and yell at her for not telling me she’s having my niece or nephew.”
He gives me a wide, genuine smile. “We’re going to be okay. You know that right? Somehow, we made it.”
I give him his smile back.
I hope you’re right, Brock. I really freaking do.
CHAPTER 22
Renn
“There you are,” Bill Galecki says, offering me his hand as I enter his office. “I hear congratulations are in order.”
Here we go … I shake his hand. “Yes. Thanks.”
He smiles smugly as he tucks his tie to his chest and sits in his oversized, pompous leather chair. I take my seat across from him. It’s a decidedly smaller, harder, more uncomfortable furniture selection that I would bet my left nut is intentional.
Galecki likes to keep his opposition on edge. And right now, I’m the opponent.
I clear my throat and take in the awards and articles hanging on the wall behind the Royals general manager. It’s impressive and would be intimidating if I was open to that kind of thing.
I’m not. And Galecki knows it.
“Let’s cut to the chase,” he says, his features hardening. “We’ve had quite a week in public relations.”
“Well, marriages are big news. People like to see other people happy.”
He strokes his chin. “Is that what this is, though?”
“Sir, with all due respect, my personal life is none of anyone’s business.”
“Oh, Brewer …” He chuckles, sitting up and planting his arms on his desk. “That’s where you’re wrong.”
My insides tremble with anticipation of this conversation going downhill. I had mediocre hopes when I pulled into the facility this morning. They’ve downgraded as the day has gone on.
Surprise from the medical staff when I showed up for my physical. An offhanded comment from a teammate when I stopped for a coffee at the fuel bar in the cafeteria. The cool response from Galecki’s secretary when I arrived for our meeting.
I wouldn’t be as on edge if I had a plan and knew how to handle what was coming my way. But I don’t. I know there are limits to what I will accept … and I pray we don’t touch them.
I pray my instincts are wrong.
“There have been several articles over the past few days questioning the seriousness of our franchise,” he says. “Many people are second-guessing our decision to sign you.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“You should be. It’s your fault.”
I flinch. “Because I got married? Give me a fucking break.”