Page 24

24

E ight months later

Brooks

Another season had come and gone. Another year of grinding, pushing, giving everything I had to this sport, only to come up short.

No playoffs. No shot at the World Series ring every single player on this team had been chasing. The disappointment clung to the air, thick and suffocating, making every breath feel a little heavier. We had fought hard, we had won more than we had lost, but in the end, it wasn’t enough.

And worse than that? This team would never be the same again.

Some guys wouldn’t make the cut next season. Others would get traded to different teams, different cities, different lives. A few wouldn’t even find new contracts. The reality of professional baseball was brutal, and this was the part I hated the most.

Still, I held my head high, shaking hands, saying my goodbyes, waving at our coach before heading toward the parking lot. We’d had a winning season, and after spending five years on a below-average team, a winning season was fine by me.

Even though I’d never say it out loud, I wasn’t mad about the offseason. Our bodies needed rest, sure, but that wasn’t why I was looking forward to it.

Michelle.

Living with her. Seeing her come home with her scrubs wrinkled and her face glowing because she loved her job at the maternity ward. She graduated at the top of her class and she had a small but mighty fan base there for her: Fiona, Gideon, Brigham, Logan, and me.

Life was…amazing. I fell asleep next to her every night and woke up to her in the mornings.

Yeah. Life outside the field wasn’t too bad.

And for the first time in my life, I had everything I wanted.

That wasn’t to say there hadn’t been challenges. Michelle had spent the last eight months working through the mess her family left behind, but she had done it on her own terms, her own way. Her father was still behind bars, waiting on a trial that had been delayed twice. Victor had taken a plea deal, sentenced to rehab and probation, and while Michelle hadn’t decided whether she’d ever talk to him again, she at least had the choice.

That was something she never had before.

And my mom?

She was doing well. The extra security at the nursing home had stayed permanently, and Angela made sure she had daily check-ins, more structure, more safety. She still had bad days, but the good ones made it worth it.

And Logan? That asshole had been flirting his way across the country, traveling during his downtime, but he always showed up when it mattered. I knew if I needed him, he’d be on the next flight home.

“You going for a drink after, or heading home?” Brigham asked, falling into step beside me as Tate and Gideon followed. It was a weird mix, the two veterans and the two younger players, but it worked. These guys weren’t just teammates. They were family.

And in this sport? You needed that. “Mitch texted me,” I said, shouldering my bag as we walked toward the players’ lot. “The girls are waiting for us at Baxter’s.”

“You all coming?”

“Yup. I need a beer or two.” Tate clapped me on the back. “Life feels confusing without baseball. I never know what to do with myself in the offseason.”

I smirked. “You’ll figure it out.”

“I won’t be a fifth wheel, right?”

“Nah.” Brigham waggled his brows. “I texted Fi. She’s bringing some of her hot friends.” He stuck out his tongue, looking like an idiot, and I rolled my eyes.

Brigham had matured a little over the past season, but he was still a damn goofball.

His smirk turned sharp. “You and Mitch engaged yet?”

I gritted my teeth. “No.”

“Damn.” Brigham barked out a laugh, and Tate and Gideon chuckled behind him. “I owe you twenty, Gid.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You bet on my engagement?”

“Hell yeah. You’ve been so into her, I figured you’d put a ring on that by now.” Brigham and Tate hopped into Tate’s truck, still grinning, while I moved toward my car.

But Gideon?

He didn’t let me off the hook that easily.

“Why not go for it?” he asked, leaning casually against his SUV, but there was something knowing in his gaze.

I hesitated. “Best thing you ever did was marry Fiona, huh?”

He nodded. “Without a doubt.”

I exhaled, rubbing a hand down my face. “Were you terrified?”

“Yeah.” His smirk was too amused. “Fiona was flaky as hell.”

“Michelle could give her a run for her money.”

He laughed, nodding. “They are similar. Definitely get why they’re friends.”

I could feel the weight of the question pressing down on me, the same question I had been dodging for weeks. I wanted to be her husband. Wanted to show her what marriage could be like when it wasn’t built on chaos and pain. But I also didn’t want to give her a reason to bolt.

“Give me pointers,” I muttered, half-joking, half-serious.

Gideon shrugged. “Be honest. Don’t push. I knew I wanted to marry Fiona months before she was even willing to think about it. But what made me ask was how damn happy she was to see me. That’s not fake, and I’ve seen you two together. She looks at you the same way.”

A lump formed in my throat.

“What if she says no?”

“What if she doesn’t?” Gideon clapped my shoulder before hopping into his car, lifting a finger in a wave as he backed out. “You’ll do it when it feels right. You’ll know.”

I wasn’t so sure about that.

I slid into my car, gripping the steering wheel as I let out a slow breath.

I had the ring. It was simple, classic—perfect for her.

I had the speech. The vision. The goddamn honeymoon planned. But I hadn’t asked.

Because this was the first real relationship of her life.

Because Michelle needed time, just like I had given her time to say she loved me.

It had taken two months after her father had been arrested for her to say it out loud. But when she finally had? It had been worth the wait.

It had taken her a lifetime of surviving before she finally let herself live.

It had taken me too long to understand that love meant waiting.

And if I had to wait a little longer to make her my wife?

Then that was fine.

Because she was already mine. I reminded myself of that fact as I pulled into the bar parking lot, Gideon arriving just behind me.

Baxter’s wasn’t fancy. It was comfortable. A place where we had all made memories, where we had built something outside of baseball. And tonight, as I pushed open the door, it already felt like home.

The first thing I saw was her.

Michelle sat at a high-top table, laughing so hard she smacked the wood surface, her eyes bright, her head tipping back. Fiona said something else that made her cackle louder, and I felt it in my chest.

The sight of her undid me.

Her hair was longer now, cascading past her shoulders. She wore tight black jeans and a denim shirt, casual and sexy as hell.

And when she turned, mid-laugh, mid-happiness, mid-being the Michelle I loved, and saw me?

Her entire face lit up. She didn’t hesitate. Didn’t even think about it. She just hopped off the stool and threw herself at me.

I caught her instantly, my arms wrapping tight around her as she clung to me, her laughter warm against my neck.

I didn’t give a shit if it was cheesy.

The woman I loved so fucking much was happy to see me, and yeah, I had a huge-ass smile on my face.

I kissed the hell out of her, drinking her in, tasting everything I had missed in the past few weeks.

She giggled against my lips, pulling back just slightly, mischief dancing in her eyes. “That was quite a greeting, B.”

I tightened my hold on her, pressing her body flush against mine.

“I missed you.” My lips brushed against her ear, my hands already skimming down her back, fingertips tracing the curve of her hips.

“Let’s leave the bar and go home and get naked.”

Her laughter vibrated through me, light and effortless.

I rested my chin on top of her head, inhaling the familiar warm, sweet scent of her.

“Please?” I murmured.

She pulled back just enough to look up at me, her fingers dragging through my hair, over my jaw.

“God, I love you,” she whispered, and just like that, everything else faded away.

The bar buzzed with laughter and conversation, but for the first time in my life, I didn’t hear any of it. Everything else faded into background noise, drowned out by the only thing that mattered—her.

Michelle stood in front of me, arms crossed, lips twitching, her eyes locked onto mine like she was piecing together every stupid, nervous, ridiculous thought that had been running through my head.

“We have the next five months to do that any day you like,” she murmured, voice softer now, filled with something steady and sure. She tilted her chin up, meeting my gaze head-on. “You played good today. I’m sorry the season is over, though.”

I exhaled, letting her words settle somewhere deep.

“You watch every game,” I said, smirking, “yet still won’t wear my jersey. I don’t get it.”

Michelle rolled her eyes, already shaking her head. “We are not having this conversation again.”

She tried to turn back toward the table, but I caught her wrist, pulling her in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to her lips.

Her breath hitched, just slightly.

“Brooks…” she murmured, but she didn’t move away.

I grinned against her mouth. “I’m excited to spend time with my girlfriend. Sue me.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, and then, tilting her head, she studied me. “Why did you say that funny?”

Shit.

I felt my face heat, and I immediately panicked. “It’s nothing.”

“Brooks…” She crossed her arms now, all suspicion, all knowing. “Do you need me to get on social media just to say I’m in a relationship with you? Is this because I was nice to that guy at the diner?”

Wait, what guy?

I opened my mouth, ready to demand details, but before I could, Brigham waltzed in, took one look at us, and made an exaggerated face at Michelle’s hand.

“Still no ring,” he muttered, loud enough for her to hear.

That fucking asshole.

Michelle froze.

I could see every emotion flash across her face in real time. The way she glanced down at her bare left hand, then back up at me, her lips parting, her mind racing.

And I was sweating.

Like, full-on sweating through my damn shirt.

“Uh, um,” I stammered, my voice coming out an embarrassing octave higher. “Let’s…get a drink?”

No way in hell was that going to work. Michelle grabbed my wrist, dragging me outside before I could escape.

The late Sunday afternoon was cool, crisp, the kind of weather that usually calmed me. But nothing about this moment was calm.

Michelle stood in front of me, arms folded tight across her chest, a smirk tugging at her lips as she tilted her head and studied me like she already knew the answer.

“So,” she said slowly. “Why did Brigham just hint at a ring?”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “Baseball. Title. We didn’t win the World Series—hell, we didn’t even make playoffs. That’s what he meant.”

She arched an eyebrow. “So looking at my left hand meant nothing?”

“Right. Nothing.”

I was losing it.

She stared at me for another few seconds, letting me squirm in my own misery.

Then, without warning, she moved closer, looping her arms around my neck, her smile soft and warm.

“Brooks,” she whispered, fingers trailing through my hair, calm and steady in a way that made my stomach twist. “Does the thought of marrying me scare you?”

“What? No. Not at all!”

Her lips twitched. “Then why are you sweating?”

I groaned, closing my eyes as she traced slow circles on the back of my neck, grounding me.

“I’ve only seen you nervous twice,” she added, voice light, teasing. “Once, when you got food poisoning while driving, and the other when you asked me to move in with you.”

Fuck it.

I opened my eyes and let out a slow breath, the words leaving me before I could stop them.

“I love you, I want a life with you, and I think I can make you happy every single day.”

Michelle’s grip on my hair tightened just enough to make me wince, her smile turning damn near smug.

“Go on,” she said, grinning now.

I swallowed hard. “Would you marry me?” I asked, my voice rougher, more raw than I expected. “If you don’t want to now, that’s fine. We can wait until you feel more comfortable. Or maybe after next season?”

Her answer came instantly.

“Yes.”

Before I could fully process what just happened, she was kissing me, nodding, smiling against my lips.

“Yes, I’ll marry you. You pick the time and place, and I’ll show up.”

“Wait, really?”

“Fuck yeah. Michelle Madsen sounds awesome.” She laughed, and my entire head spun.

She said yes.

We’re engaged.

Holy shit.

“Shit,” I muttered, running a hand down my face. “I have the ring at home. I didn’t think… I was so nervous.”

“Don’t care about the ring.” She pressed a hand flat against my chest, right over my heart. “I’d be yours even if rings weren’t involved.”

God. I gulped, drowning in the warmth of her gaze.

She looked at me with love, with excitement, with every emotion I had been waiting for.

“We could have it at the facility so my mom could be there,” I blurted, my brain already spinning with ideas. “Maybe ten people tops?”

She tilted her head, her smile softening. “That sounds perfect. I wouldn’t care if we went down to city hall and signed the papers.”

“But the facility…” she trailed off, her eyes glowing now. “Angela could be there. Your brother. And we could plan it on a day she was doing well. We’ll call every morning, see how she’s feeling. If it’s a good day, bam. We show up, get hitched, and live happily ever after.”

Emotion clogged my throat.

I nodded, swallowing hard. “You really want that?”

“Of course I do,” she said, laughing softly. “But I have one request.”

“Name it. I’ll do literally anything.”

“We get a real honeymoon. Champagne, you naked most of the time, and a beach.”

I grinned, cupping her face, pressing my forehead to hers. “About that.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Brooks.”

I kissed her, slow and deep, until we were both breathless.

When I pulled back, her lips swollen and red, I murmured, “I might’ve had this idea in my head for a while. Might’ve made some plans.”

“Oh?” She lifted an eyebrow. “What kind of plans?”

“There’s this place in Cancun,” I said, my voice husky, full of anticipation. “Right on the beach. Ten pools. Round-the-clock drinks. It’s already saved. Just… what do you think?”

She grinned. “You’re telling me we can go to city hall tomorrow and be in Mexico by next week?”

“God, I love you,” I groaned, pulling her into a hug, burying my face in her neck. “Let’s take a month to plan it,” I whispered against her skin.

She sighed happily, her fingers tracing slow, lazy circles on my back. “I can wait a month. But, Brooks?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I never thought I’d be excited about becoming a wife,” she whispered, voice full of wonder, of certainty. “Yet here we are.”

Yeah. Here we were.

And I had never been so sure of anything in my entire life.