Page 7

Marty

Packing up the kids to spend the afternoon at a carnival is a ton of work. Diapers and changes of clothes, the big stroller so both Emma and Brad can sit in it if they get tired. Toys and juice boxes and snacks because they can’t eat nothing but funnel cake and corn dogs all day. Sunscreen and bug spray and—I look around.

What have I forgotten?

I’m sure there’s something.

But I’m already late picking up Stevie and meeting the others at the carnival. We’d originally planned to go in the evening, but instead we compromised and are meeting up at four. That’s after my kids have all napped, but early enough for them to have several hours before they’re ready to crash for the night.

I see Stevie waiting outside as I pull up to Ivan and Chey’s house. She looks incredible in white cargo shorts, a pink tank top, and matching pink sandals. Her hair is in two braids, making her look younger than her twenty-seven years, and she gives me a breathtaking smile when she sees us pull up.

“Hi!” She slides into the front seat of my SUV and immediately turns to greet the kids. “Miss Emma, you look very pretty with your head band!”

“I still have your bow!” she announces proudly.

“I see that.” She looks to Martin. “I love those sneakers, little dude.” They have rockets on them and light up.

“Mommy bought them!” he says defiantly.

“And they are super cool!” She reaches back to tickle Brad’s bare toes. “Where are your shoes, little man?”

“He refused to wear them,” I say dryly. “Took them off as fast as I could put them back on.”

“That’s okay. I’d go barefoot all the time if I could too!”

She turns back to face the front, pulling on her seat belt. “So, who’s excited for funnel cake?”

“What’s funny cake?” Emma asks.

“Funnel cake,” Stevie said. “It’s like fried cake batter, with sugar on top.”

“Yummy!” Martin shouts. “Can we have some, Daddy?”

“If you mind your manners.”

“We’ll be good, Daddy.” I look in my rearview mirror to see Emma smiling sweetly.

“Fucky cake,” Bradley babbles.

“Oh no.” Stevie’s eyes widen and she bites her lip so as not to react.

“Brenna will have a field day with that,” I mutter.

“We’ll break him of it before he goes back,” she whispers.

We.

We’ll break him of it.

We’re just supposed to be friends.

What’s this we business?

Whatever it is, I like it, and my cock twitches behind my shorts.

I shift uncomfortably, trying to change the direction of my thoughts.

“What’d you do today?” I ask Stevie.

“I had a casting this morning for a one-off appearance on a soap. I don’t think I got it, but we’ll see.”

“How come?”

“A lot of competition. A lot .”

“But you’re beautiful,” I protest.

“This is acting, not modeling, so my looks are secondary. It’s okay, though. It’s good for me to be back out there, doing what I do. I’m doing a music video for Nobody’s Fool next weekend in Vegas, so that’ll be good for me, and I’m doing a perfume commercial in Toronto in two weeks.”

“Oh, that’s great.”

“I’m trying to get my butt back out there. It’s just…hard.”

“Why?” I ask softly. “I understand you went through something traumatic, and I’m not minimizing that at all, but what does it have to do with your work?”

“It’s hard to explain. It’s not the work itself but more about the lingering effects of what happened. And how I’ll never—” She cuts off abruptly. “Anyway, not the place for this conversation.” She glances back at the kids, and I nod.

“Understood.”

“Anyway, I’m supposed to fly to Milan at the end of September for a series of shoots, and I’m really nervous. Chey said she’ll come with me if I need her to, but it’s time for me to get back on my feet, you know? I’ve been traveling and doing photo shoots since I was fifteen. I shouldn’t need someone to hold my hand.”

“Sometimes we all need someone to hold our hand. Even if it’s figuratively.”

“Including you?”

“ Especially me.” I look in the rearview mirror. “The last year has been a cluster. Having that emotional support has been huge. I don’t think I would have gotten through this without my teammates, my friends.”

“What about family?”

“My dad’s gone, died when I was a kid, and my mom lives in upstate New York, near my sister. She’s coming out next week to spend time with the kids.”

“Oh, that will be nice.”

I nod. “What about you? You close to your family?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “My parents are divorced. Dad and his wife—who’s only three years older than me—live in Boston. They have two babies under five.”

“Yikes.”

“As you can imagine, we’re not close. My mom never remarried but has a live-in boyfriend. He’s okay, but I don’t really know him because my mom and I had a falling out. I also have a sister, and she and her second husband live in Toronto. He’s Canadian. We aren’t close either.”

“Can I ask about the…incident?” I ask carefully.

“Not with babies in the car.”

“Gotcha.” I want to reach across the center console for her hand, but I don’t dare. Not in front of the kids. Martin will tell his mom all about it when she calls before bedtime tonight. And that’s the last thing I need. I need to keep things status quo until we go in front of the judge.

My attorney says it’s going to be a battle to get full custody. Judges won’t take custody from a mother unless there’s a definitive reason, like abuse or something. I don’t know if fucking one of my teammates counts as a point in my column, so I’ve mentally prepared myself for the battle ahead of me.

“There’s Effie and Connor,” Stevie says as we pull to a stop. She hops out before I can open the door for her, immediately opening the back and getting out the stroller.

Like she’s done this before.

Like it’s second nature.

I don’t know many supermodels, but she seems so down to earth it’s hard to reconcile what she does with who she appears to be. I guess I’m stereotyping

“Thanks,” I say gruffly.

I don’t know why it affects me so much to see her stepping in to help with the kids, but it does. She’s not my girlfriend, but she’s not a babysitter either. She’s… I don’t even fucking know what she is to me. But whatever it is, I like it.

“Hey, Junior!” Connor says, scooping Martin out of the SUV and twirling him around. “You ready to go on all the rides?”

“Yay!” Martin lights up.

“I don’t do roller coasters,” I grumble. I’m the lucky bastard who gets motion sick. I try not to admit that to anyone, but I have no choice when it comes to shit like this. Luckily, Bradley’s too young and those kinds of rides terrify Emma. Martin has a wild streak, though, a lot like his mom.

“I’ll take him,” Stevie offers. “I love roller coasters!”

“Me too!” Effie grins at her.

“Not me.” Saylor shakes her head. “I’ll stay back with the baby.”

We walk into the carnival and buy a bunch of tickets. They can be used for both the rides and the games, so I figure they’ll last a while. That’s the hope anyway.

“Look!” Emma’s eyes brighten as she spots a pink fairy wand that lights up on display in one of the game booths. “Daddy, please !”

Great. It’s a prize, meaning someone has to win it for her.

“How much to buy the wand?” I ask the teenager behind the booth.

He gives me a dour look. “You can’t buy it. You have to win it.” He says it like I’m a moron.

It’s one of those games where you have to toss a ball the size of a baseball into an opening a fraction of an inch bigger.

“I’ve got this,” Connor says, rubbing his hands together. “Played both baseball and hockey until I was thirteen. And I was a pitcher.”

Of course, he was.

I laugh, handing him a bunch of tickets. “You will be Emma’s hero.”

The kid hands Connor six balls, three of which have to go in.

He misses on the first throw but then his eyes narrow, and I see that same look on the ice when he’s getting ready to score. He’s really just a big kid in so many ways, but not when it comes to sports. And the next three balls sail right in like this is the World Series or something.

The teenager looks unimpressed. “What do you want?” he asks in a monotone voice.

“What’s it gonna be, Emma?” Connor lifts her up and she shyly points to the wand.

“The pink wand for the princess,” Connor says proudly, handing it to her.

“Yay! Thank you, Uncle Connor!” She throws her little arms around his neck and he grins at me.

Uncle Connor.

That’s new.

Brenna didn’t want our kids calling my teammates uncle. She said that was reserved for her brothers. Now that we’re not together, I’m not abiding by her stupid rules anymore.

“He can be so impressive,” Stevie murmurs as Connor and Effie walk ahead to the House of Horrors.

“Yeah, it’s hard to wrap my head around all the different facets that make Connor who he is.”

“Effie talks about him as this thoughtful, romantic sex machine who treats her like a queen,” Stevie says, “but all I see is an overgrown teenager who tells bad jokes and still has acne. Except that’s wrong.”

“Yeah, he’s a good kid. And so freakin’ athletic. He’s one of those athletes who’s good at everything. Golf, bowling, tennis, and from what he says, he’s a skier too.”

“Not to mention baseball.”

We chuckle.

“Where’s Uncle Connor going?” Emma asks.

“You want to go be scared in the haunted house?” I ask.

Emma quickly shakes her head and Martin scrunches his face, as if this is some kind of monumental decision.

“I don’t think so,” he says at last.

“Bummer,” Stevie says. “I love haunted houses.”

“You two go,” Saylor offers. “We can watch the kids.”

“I want a prize,” Martin says, gazing over at the ring toss game.

“You want one of those big polar bears?” Canyon asks him, scooping him up as Saylor takes over pushing the stroller.

“Yay!”

“You ready?” I ask Stevie.

“Oh yes.” She grins at me, and I hand the tickets to the attendant.

We step inside the house of horrors, which looks like the Deliverance version of a trailer, and Stevie moves behind me, pressing half of her body against my back.

Christ.

Self-inflicted torture at its finest.

“I love these,” Stevie whispers, “but you might need to hold my hand.”

Like I’m going to say no?

I wrap my hand firmly around hers, and we step into pure blackness.