Page 31 of Brewer Family Collection, Part 1

Me: Hi, Astrid! It’s Blakely. I promise I’m not needy. But can you give me some advice on what to wear to Renn’s parents’ house for dinner? I’m trying not to freak out.

Her response is immediate.

Astrid: No panicking. It’s not allowed. winking emoji They are very casual, in a rich people way, when they’re together. I’d suggest a maxi dress or maybe dark denim jeans with a nice white button-down—chic but not overdone. Honestly, they aren’t going to judge you for what you wear.

Me: A white button-down? It’s obvious you don’t know me at all.

Astrid: laughing emoji Would you like me to send you a few options this afternoon? Whatever you don’t want, we’ll send back.

Is she kidding?

Me: That’s unnecessary.

Astrid: This is my job, Blakely. And I’m under your husband's exact orders to ensure you are happy and comfortable. If he finds out you’re worried about what to wear, and I know it … I like my job. Let’s keep it at that.

Me: We could not tell him.

Astrid: I’m sure it’s an adjustment, but this is your life now. I’m here to help. I get paid to help you. And, if I’m being honest, shopping for you will be much more fun than what I’m currently doing.

I pace the kitchen, nibbling my bottom lip.

Me: I feel very awkward about this.

Astrid: I’ll have a few things delivered this afternoon. I’ll let Foxx know to expect them. Let me know how they work. We’ll stay on it until we get it right.

Me: How do I pay for them?

Astrid: You’re funny. I’m off to shop!

“Dammit,” I say, setting my phone down and blowing out an exasperated breath.

A door shuts in the distance. I watch the doorway, hoping it’s Renn. But Foxx appears.

“Mrs. Brewer, Ella St. James is here to see you,” he says.

I plant my hands on the counter, grateful he can’t see that I don’t have on pants.

“He’s under an NDA. He won’t tell anyone how you sound when you’re moaning my name and begging me to fuck you harder.”

My cheeks flush. “Can you call me Blakely, please?”

“If you’d like.”

I stare at him, dazzled by his blue eyes.

“Blakely?” he asks again.

“What? Oh. Yeah.” I stand. “She’s my best friend.”

“Should I send her in?”

“Yes, Foxx. Please.”

He gives me a side-eye that makes me think he’s irritated with me. I hate to tell him, but he fails if he’s trying to get me to change my behavior. He’s hot as hell when he’s grumpy.

A few moments later, Ella rounds the corner. “Jealousy is a very ugly shade on my skin tone. But, dammit, Blakely—your life is unfair.”

I laugh, pulling her into a hug. “I missed you.”

“You did not.” She swats my shoulder. “And if you did, then Renn isn’t nearly as good in bed as I’ve imagined.”

I gasp. “Don’t imagine my husband in bed.”

She giggles. “Sorry. What’s done is done.”

We move into the living room and plop down on the sofa.

“Tell me about your honeymoon. I hope the length of time was the only thing that was fast,” she says, winking at me.

I laugh. Oh, how I missed her.

“It was beautiful, Ella. The pictures I sent didn’t do it justice. The vibe of the place was so chill. Maybe it was just where we were, but the sun seemed brighter, the pace slower, and I just felt so …” I search for the right word, but only one will suffice. “Happy.”

“That makes me happy.”

“That’s why you’re the best.”

She smiles. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to really celebrate your birthday, though. I felt like you got shortchanged.”

I shove my hand in her face. “How can you say that with a straight face?”

“ Holy crap .” She jerks my finger at a weird angle for better inspection. “Blakely. My lord .”

“I know. It’s perfect. I can’t say I would’ve picked it because I wouldn’t have even looked at rocks this size …”

Ella laughs, letting my hand go. “Us mortals can’t afford things like that. But I guess you aren’t one of us anymore.” She surveys the space. “This is quite the pad you have here. Renn’s taste is more sophisticated and less bachelor. I’m impressed.”

“Ella, you have no idea how impressive he really is.”

“Saturday night. Me and you. Not here . I want every dirty, nasty detail you’re willing to share.”

I grin. “Deal. Now, what’s up with you and Brock?”

The levity melts off her face. She smiles, but I see through it. What’s wrong ?

“El?”

“We’re good. Honestly. Probably better than ever, really.”

My stomach knots. “Why don’t I believe you?”

“He came over, and we had a long talk … about a lot of things. And I think …” She gazes through the window. “I think we’re on the same page in a way we’ve never been before.”

I watch her work through something in her head.

“I love him, Blakely.”

My eyes widen. “Really?”

She turns to me. “I do. We’ll talk about it this weekend, okay? I don’t want to get into it right now.”

Don’t want to get into what? What a weird thing to say. Since when has Miss Shameless held anything back? She’s not telling me something. Hmm …

A voice clears behind us. “Blakely?”

I look over my shoulder. “Are you a genie or something, Foxx? You show up out of nowhere.”

“Doubtful,” Ella mutters, loud enough so only I can hear. “Otherwise, women would be rubbing all kinds of things, hoping he shows up.”

I shake my head, fighting a laugh.

“Your brother is here to see you,” Foxx says, clearly unamused.

“We’re going to have to work on this,” I say. “I don’t want to waste your time by announcing every visitor. You keep scaring the shit out of me.”

He lifts a brow. “I’ll wear bells on my shoes.”

I burst out laughing. The corner of his lip quirks, but he refuses to smile.

“Send him in, please,” I say. “Thank you.”

He nods, and I’m pretty sure he rolls his eyes once his back is to me.

Ella stands. “I need to get going. I have a massage in an hour, and traffic will be miserable. I just had to see you before you got caught up in life and put me on the back burner.”

I laugh. “Right. Like you ever stay on the back burner.”

She laughs. “Call me later, and we’ll plan our dirty dinner discussion.”

“Okay.”

She heads for the door but stops when Brock walks in. Her arms go to his neck, and they embrace. Whispers are exchanged, and my brother gives her a single, sweet kiss. He waits until she’s out of the room before he makes his way to me.

“Hey,” I say, getting to my feet to hug him. “Are you okay? You have bags bigger than mine under your eyes.”

He wraps me up into a giant bear hug. “I’m fine. Glad you’re back.”

I squeeze him tight before releasing him. We sit down on opposite ends of the sofa.

“Thanks for bringing me clothes and my twenty-five lip balms,” I say, joking.

“ Twenty-six , and you’re welcome. How was your honeymoon?”

I pause, studying him—trying to get a hint as to the direction of this conversation. Is he asking because he’s curious? Or because he’s ready to pick a fight?

He must read my apprehension because he sighs. “Renn said you had a great time. He said you tried to surf.”

“I was catching waves left and right.”

He lifts a brow.

“Kidding. I was awful.” I laugh. “But it was a lot of fun, though. You’d be good at it.”

“I’m glad you had fun, B.” He runs a hand over his head. “Look, I want to say I’m sorry for being a dick in Vegas and for not calling you the past few days. I should’ve been more supportive, and I feel like a piece of shit for letting you down.”

I don’t know how to respond to that. But something tells me that this talking point isn’t over.

A knot forms in my stomach, pulling tighter with every second it takes him to continue.

Finally, his hand drops to his side, and he raises his gaze to mine. “Has Renn said anything to you about my physical?”

I bolt upright. “No. Why ? What’s wrong?”

He blows out a breath. “I’m fine. Okay. Let’s get that out of the way. I’m fine .”

“You’re reiterating that a lot for someone who is fine.”

My heart pounds so hard that I feel dizzy. I search his face for any indication that he’s lying and try really, really hard not to shake him until he explains wherever he’s going with this.

He shifts in his seat. “To make a long story short, I’ve been told I should retire.”

“What? Why?”

“There is a study I joined a couple of years ago to learn more about head impacts on athletes. It’s a data-gathering project. But when I had my scans as a part of my physical, I showed signs of neurological damage.”

My hand flies to my mouth. Tears fill my eyes.

“I’m fine, B.” He touches my knee. “I’d tell you if I wasn’t. Remember, this is a study. They don’t know anything for sure.”

“But enough that someone thinks you should quit rugby?”

He nods slowly.

“And you quit, right?” I blink back tears, my mind racing. “Tell me you put in your resignation.”

“Blakely …”

I scoot to the edge of the sofa and twist to face him. Adrenaline spikes through my veins. It’s matched only by the hysteria building inside me. “ You’re quitting .”

“I wanted to talk to you about it?—”

“ You’re quitting .” Tears break the dam and spill down my cheeks. They’re hot and salty as they cross my lips. My voice cracks. “You’re all I have, Brock. You can’t risk it. Please . Don’t do that to me.”

I fight the sob as it climbs up my throat. But it’s no use.

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.