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My chest vibrates with silent laughter. “It wasdefinitelynot sad, dickhead. Quite needy, actually.”
“I hate you.”
I roll my eyes. “Shut up. You’d miss me if I weren’t here.”
“You and Ricky. He wants her, you know that, right?”
His speech is a tad rushed, and my next words might get me hit, but fuck it. “It’s not a terrible idea.”
“What? Putting a hit on Kyle? I got it handled.”
“Stop saying that.” Sometimes, it’s hard to tell if he’s joking or lacking a filter. Either way, I don’t need him in prison. “No—having Ricky with us.”
A sudden dip in the mattress suggests he’s sitting up, possibly about to throw a punch. “In what universe is he a good idea?”
Our girl stirs at his raised tone, and I lower my voice, not wanting to wake her.
“The one where we both travel. Who’ll care for her? Protect her? The twins aren’t going with us. Are we leaving her alone with the baby in LA? With your father?”
“Are you for real? You only like him because he does whatyousay.”
“There’s that,” I joke.
But Jax’s voice is anything but playful. “Whatever. I quit.”
His stubborn anger triggers my own. “You’re a brat, you know that? You’re playing. You can give me a season or two for all the shit I’ve done for you.” Even provoked, that was harsher than intended.
“Don’t hold back. Tell me how you really feel, Coach. Are you gonna be in his bed next?”
“What?” A brat, one hundred percent. How did I end up with two brats? “Where the fuck did that come from?”
He doesn’t respond. He lies down and faces away from me.
“All I’m saying is, Ricky knows her. He understands her anxiety. He can handle her panic attacks. He makes sure she eats. He goes all the way across the city for fucking pastries. He’s aware of your father’s history and mine, and he won’t go running to the media. I trust he’ll protect herandyou.”
“Whatever. You’re the boss.”
A heavy silence fills the space between us. I should’ve waited until the season started and we were strapped to discuss Ricky.
He sniffs, and I feel like shit.
“Jax—"
“I told you I’d figure out Kyle. I’ll give you until the end of my contract. I want to see this baby, not spend half the year on the road. I respect your goals, but we have plenty of money, and you can win without me.”
I close my eyes and let my frustrations go—for now. “I want the same as you.” Then, a half-ass thought brings a smile to my face. “We could buy a team.”
He scoffs. “We’re wealthy, but we’re notthatwealthy. I’m not a billionaire.”
I doubt he even knows his worth, considering all his grandfather’s investments, properties, and businesses.
“We can buy that team in Alaska no one wants.”
“Dude,” he stretches out the word. “There’s a reason no one wants that team, and I amnotliving in Alaska. What the fuck?”
I grin at his appalled tone. “We don’t have to live there, not year-round.”
“I’d rather live in New York.”