Page 36

36

JAMIE

The basement game room is overflowing with members of my family, yet it’s the woman sitting beside me that I care most about. She hasn’t left my side since I found her in the hallway with my dad, and fuck, I don’t want to let her go.

Not right now or ever.

She’s sitting half on the cushion and half on my thigh, holding my hand in a tight grip that shows no sign of loosening. I’m not sure what’s happening in her head, but I’m looking forward to finding out as soon as she wants to tell me.

My dad and uncle are perched at the small bar, staring over at us. The kids are upstairs, and while Mom would have usually opted out of hanging down here with us, she’s hovering near Blakely. Her eyes are soft as she watches my wife, curious but silent, like she doesn’t want to make anything worse.

It would be alarming to see how quickly my family fell for her if I wasn’t so happy to see it. Blakely may not have told me all the specifics of her childhood and the past she’s trying so hard not to let control her, but I don’t need to know them. When she’s ready to tell me everything, I’ll be here ready to listen.

“You guys should come to Nate’s football game on Friday,” I say, continuing to run my fingers through her hair .

My uncle Oakley’s expression fills with intrigue before he asks Blakely, “Nate’s your brother, right?”

“Yes. He’s a wide receiver for the Pacific Heights Thunderhawks.”

“A wide receiver, hey? You been giving him some tips, Jamie?” Maddox asks, glancing up from where he’s playing with toy cars on the floor with his son, Liam.

“He doesn’t need them, but yeah, I’ve been helping. There’s a future for him in football, and I’m not just saying that.”

Blakely plays with my fingers, shifting even closer. “They’ve been practicing at the field nearly every night.”

“I’d love to come to the game. It’s been five years since we’ve been to a high school game, Ty. I miss the bad popcorn and foam fingers,” Mom says with an airy tone.

Oliver enters the room from who knows where and sinks onto the opposite side of the L couch beside Mom. “You can still get bad popcorn and foam fingers at a Pythons game.”

“You’ll come too, won’t you?” Mom asks.

“When?”

“Friday night. Nate’s game,” I say.

Oliver thinks for a second, pulling up his work schedule in his head, most likely. “Yeah, we’ll come.”

It’s still weird to think that he has a whole-ass family of his own now. There’s no more I for him. Only us or we.

“We’ll be back home because the team plays Friday, but wish him luck for us,” Maddox says.

He’s constantly flying between Ottawa and here whenever he and Braxton have a chance. I’ve always wondered how much longer they’ll do that. Once Braxton has the baby, will they choose to stay in Ottawa full-time until Dox’s contract with the Beavertails is over?

Blakely nods. “I will.”

“How’s marriage life, J?” Oliver asks, his stare narrowed slightly.

I don’t let his scrutiny affect me. Things are so different from when I came to talk to him the morning after his wedding. I was terrified then, and now I’m just lovesick.

“I’m happier than I’ve ever been,” I admit, holding his stare and letting him see every bit of the truth in my words.

He sits back against the couch a few seconds later, seemingly happy with what he saw. I love my brother, but even if he hated Blakely, I don’t think I’d be able to let her go.

We’d end up in a fistfight instead, and those have never ended well between us. If I win one round, he wins the next, and by the time we’re calling a truce, we’re bloody and bruised, and Mom is having a panic attack.

“Did I tell you that Blakely’s working with the Pythons now? She’s the team’s caterer,” I tell everyone, pride puffing my chest.

Mom gasps, grinning wide. “That’s incredible. How are you liking it? Has Jamie been able to leave you alone long enough to get any work done?”

“Coach has had to come grab him a few times, but I don’t mind his company. It’s been great having so many people enjoy my food. Although, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re all just too hungry after practice to taste what they’re eating before swallowing it.”

“Oh, we’ve been tasting it. Jax has asked approximately five thousand times if he could be invited to dinner just so you’d feed him,” I say, twirling her hair around my finger.

She twists to look at me, her cheeks flushed. “Did you tell him yes?”

“Absolutely not. He sees you enough at work.”

“Awe, are you jealous, Jamie?” Maddox teases with a stupidly smug smirk.

Uncle O scoffs a laugh. “Don’t throw stones, Dox.”

“I remember watching all of you losing your minds over anyone so much as looking at your wives, so yeah, be careful with your glass houses,” I say.

“I think it’s adorable,” Mom sighs, touching her chest. “Jealousy keeps the spark alive. ”

Pointing at Dad, Oliver pokes at him, “Hear that, old man? Mom wants you to get jealous more often.”

“Oh, he was jealous enough when we were your age,” Mom says, winking at her husband.

“He nearly beat the shit out of your mom’s neighbour because he saw him in her apartment handing her their mixed-up mail,” Uncle O explains. “Seems more like anger management issues than jealousy.”

Dad scowls at his brother-in-law. “He could have slipped it under the door. Didn’t need to be in her place alone. And watch it. I can still beat your ass now just as well as I did back then, Oakley.”

“I absolutely invited him inside on purpose. You were a real jerk back then. Don’t be mean to my brother,” Mom chirps.

Uncle O swirls the whiskey in his glass and huffs. “As if he stopped being an asshole just because he’s old now. Why did I give you permission to marry my sister again?”

“When did this turn into a beat on Tyler fest? Pay attention to my son and his wife instead,” Dad grunts.

“Speaking of sons and wives,” Oliver starts, stretching his legs out in front of the couch. “When’s Noah marrying Tinsley?”

Blakely brings her mouth to my ear and keeps her voice soft, just for me to hear. “I still can’t believe Noah Hutton is your cousin.”

I nip at her jaw. “Are you trying to make me jealous now?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“What will you do to me if I say yes?” she purrs.

Fingers still in her hair, I tug just enough for her to feel it. “If I get hard right now, I’ll be taking you out of here thrown over my shoulder.”

Her body shakes with a silent laugh as she shifts forward again. I drape my arm over her shoulders and spread my legs, knocking her knee as we tune back in to the conversation happening around us .

“They’ve been busy. I say give it another year and we’ll be planning another wedding,” Mom says.

I clear my throat and draw patterns over Blakely’s bicep. “Maybe baby Hutton is scared she’ll turn him down.”

“Okay, first, you can’t call him a baby when he’s older than you. And second, it’s more likely that they simply don’t think it’s necessary to get married. When you’re that connected to a person, maybe marriage just doesn’t carry the same meaning as it does for us,” Maddox says.

Mom nods, patting Oliver’s knee. “They seem content doing what they’re doing now. We’ve had so many weddings recently. A break wouldn’t be bad.”

Blakely yawns as I bite back a smile, watching her try to hide it. We’ve been here for long enough, and while I love seeing her getting to know my family and slowly finding her spot inside of it, I’m antsy to have her all to myself again.

It’s harder to leave today than it usually is, and I blame that wholeheartedly on my mother when ten minutes later, she refuses to release Blakely’s hand.

“She’s going to come back, Ma,” I say, pulling at Blakely’s shoulders again.

We’re on the driveway, the SUV already running and the heater blasting. I should have known when Mom followed us outside that we’d be here. What happened earlier has sparked the momma bear inside of her.

She holds Blakely’s hand and stares fiercely into her eyes. “If you need anything, call me. I can bring snacks to Nate’s game or swing by and visit you at work?—”

“You’re not bothering her at work, Ma,” I tell her, sighing.

My wife squeezes Mom’s hand right back. “I appreciate your offer, Gracie. Really.”

“Alright. Well, I’ll see you Friday night, then.”

I rest my hand low on Blakely’s back and open the passenger door. “Yes, Ma.”

“I’ll let you know about the snacks,” Blakely adds .

Mom reluctantly releases her hand and quickly kisses my cheek before stepping away. “Okay, you two. Drive safe.”

“We will. Love you, Mom.”

“Love you, honey.”

Blakely gets in the SUV and waves at Mom while I shut the door and linger. Mom waits expectantly for me to speak.

“Don’t freak her out,” I murmur, shifting away from the door.

“She doesn’t look freaked out, Jamie.”

“Whatever you saw earlier, just don’t be so obvious with how it made you feel. If she thinks anyone pities her . . .”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

I pull her in for a quick hug, saying, “She’s strong, and I know she’d appreciate it if everyone treated her like it.”

“Of course she’s strong. That’s why you were drawn to her.”

“Oh, is that it?”

“One of the reasons, smartass.”

I let loose a soft laugh and start rounding the hood. “We’ll talk about the game this week.”

“Alright. I love you, Jamie.”

“Love you too, Ma.”

She stands on the driveway and watches us until we turn out of view. Blakely drops a hand to my thigh and holds me for every minute of our drive home, and yeah, I might have driven a bit under the speed limit to get a few extra minutes of her touch.

I’m a simp for my wife. Sue me.

“Ready?” I shout, the wind carrying my voice down the field.

Nate claps his hands above his head and bends his knees, ready to take off. He’s tired from practice but didn’t hesitate to take me up on my offer of doing a few more drills .

“Go!”

He starts running down the field, his pace a bit slower than usual. I’m a shit shot compared to Jax, but I still manage to send the football piercing through the air quick enough for him to start tracking it over his shoulder.

“Faster, Nate!”

The kid pumps his arms harder, tearing his cleats into the grass as he pushes himself. Blakely blows on her hands to warm them and watches her brother speed down the field yard by yard. Nate jumps into the air and catches the ball in his right hand before landing perfectly.

“Touchdown! Take it all the way!” I yell, clapping louder with every yard he passes.

“He’s really fast,” Blakely whispers, in awe.

“Crazy fast, baby. Faster than I was in high school.”

She loops her arm through mine. “You think he’ll make it?”

Nate sails into the end zone and spins, throwing the ball up into the air. He shouts something, but the wind carries it away from us.

“CFL or NFL, yeah, he’ll make it,” I say.

He swipes the ball off the ground and starts jogging toward us as Blakely claps and rests her cheek against my bicep.

“I never asked why you chose the CFL. I doubt it was because you didn’t have interest from the NFL.”

“Most of the interest I had was actually from NFL teams, but moving away from my family never would have worked for me. Playing in the Canadian league meant I could stay close.”

“You went to university, then?”

“UBC like my dad. I was a kinesiology student, but my grades were terrible. The only thing I remember is that it’s important to stretch both before and after working out.”

She laughs. “So, when Nate asks what he should do in university, I shouldn’t tell him to ask you for ideas?”

It’s clear that she doesn’t know what she just insinuated. There was no chance of me missing it. Not when I’ve been searching for a sign for weeks that she might not want to leave after all.

“We’ve got two more years before that conversation comes up,” I muse.

“It’ll be hard to convince him to focus on anything besides football.”

“I can be pretty persuasive,” I drawl, kissing her temple.

She pinches the underside of my arm, and Nate slows his jog, closing in on us while I grunt at the sting.

“That was awesome,” he pants. “I didn’t think I was going to get there.”

Blakely rubs his sweaty hair. “We never doubted you.”

“Want to go again?” he asks me, swatting at his sister’s hand.

“You need to cool down. Overworking yourself sounds like a great idea until you run out of steam. Let’s head home.”

He frowns, holding in his argument in exchange for a tip of his chin. “Alright.”

“I’m making burgers for dinner. Does that help?” Blakely asks.

I snag his duffle bag from the grass and toss it over my shoulder before the three of us head back to the car.

“It doesn’t hurt,” Nate answers.

No, it doesn’t. But I’m sure we’d eat anything Blakely made.