Page 37

37

BLAKELY

The heavy blue blanket draped over Jamie’s and my shoulders is scratchy, but with the chill tonight, it’s better than nothing. Plus, it’s a great way to hide from the groups of moms crowding around us and gossiping without a care, as if I’m deaf and unable to hear their judgmental comments.

Nate’s been playing better than every single one of their kids, and I think it’s making them dislike me that much more. It’s a shame I don’t give a shit about them.

“Get ’em, Nate! Kick some ass!” Jamie shouts, unbothered by the stares and gasps coming from the bleachers.

I shouldn’t laugh, but it’s impossible not to. “Jamie.”

“Yes, gorgeous wife of mine?” he sings innocently.

Nate puts his helmet on and waves at us before heading onto the field with the offense. I scoot closer to Jamie and tuck myself beneath his arm, trying to steal his warmth.

“The moms are already out for my blood without you reminding them that you’re here,” I mutter.

“It’s just jealousy, Bandit.”

“Oh, I know it is. Not only is Nate the best player on the team by far, but we’re both here with you. ”

He kisses my head twice, his favourite way to show affection to me. I’ve grown to love it more every time he does it.

“It’s too bad for them that I’m here with my family and not them, then, isn’t it?” he asks softly.

My stomach flips, and my mouth curls into a smile. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Uncle J!”

Nova comes barrelling down the bleachers toward us, followed by her parents and grandparents. Avery wiggles her fingers at us and pulls her daughter’s toque down over her braids when it starts slipping off.

“Hey, Nova-Bug. Loving the stripes,” Jamie says, pointing at the two blue stripes on her cheeks.

She beams at him. “Thanks. I did them like you do sometimes when you play. It’s good luck for Nate.”

I pull my purse from the empty space beside me and tuck it between my legs so she can sit. When she flops down, she calls her mom’s name.

Avery takes the spot beside her. “Yeah, baby?”

“Blakely has a purse just like I do.”

It’s Oliver who replies, staring at Jamie with a smug smile. “I figured that’s who you ended up giving it to.”

“My purse has flowers on it. Handprints too,” Nova exclaims, bending forward to get a closer look at mine. “Why does yours have masks? And splotches.”

“They’re not splotches, Nova-Bug. They’re Xbox controllers,” Jamie says.

“They don’t look like it. No offense.”

Gracie meets my eyes from the end of the row where she sits sandwiched between Tyler and Oliver. “Sorry we’re late. Did we miss much? Are you cold? I have some extra gloves with me if you want them.”

“I’m okay. Thank you. And it’s been a slow start. Nate’s got two touchdowns so far. ”

“So exciting! Just let me know if you need to warm up.”

Jamie chuckles, rubbing a hand up and down my jacketed arm. “She likes you.”

“She’s just being nice.”

“No, I mean it. She loves you.”

I don’t know what to say, so I focus on the game instead. The offense gets into position for a second down, and Nate shifts over a few paces as soon as the QB has the ball, looking around. It’s hard to see everything that’s going on. I don’t know much more than the basics and what I’ve picked up from Jamie. What I do know is that when the QB throws the ball, it’s to Nate.

My brother is already sprinting down the field, players diving at him the entire way but never making contact. Not until one grabs the back of his jersey and pulls hard enough to send him stumbling backward. Jamie shoots up, taking the blanket with him as the defenseman reaches for Nate’s face mask and uses it to force his head to the side.

Nate tumbles to the ground, and I go still, suddenly frozen solid. The crowd goes silent while the ball hits the field a few feet away from him. Jamie doesn’t say a word before he’s excusing himself through the people on the stands below us and heading for the field.

I wait for something to follow the bad play, like a flag or a whistle, but when the whistle does blow, it’s only to mark the play dead. The defenseman who took down Nate steps over him and takes the ball with a smirk.

Jamie’s voice is so loud I can hear his words as clearly as if he were still sitting beside me. “What the fuck was that? You’re not going to call that? Are you being serious? This is high school ball!”

The referee in front of him shakes his head and replies, but apparently, he doesn’t care enough about this to be loud.

I’m suddenly standing, and when a small hand takes mine, I look down to see Nova smiling supportively. Gracie is moving past Oliver and Avery, coming to sit in Jamie’s spot .

My husband takes a menacing step in front of the ref and points at the field. His anger is potent, and despite his laid-back attire of jeans, a light-coloured jacket, and a backward hat, he’s not someone who should be taken lightly right now.

The ref extends a hand in front of him, motioning for Jamie to take a step back. Jamie laughs, reaching beside the ref to grab a yellow flag from his back pocket.

I glance between where Nate’s pushing himself up onto his feet and where Jamie moves close to him and drops the flag on the field.

“That’s how you do your fucking job. Since you forgot,” he snaps before moving to Nate’s side and easing his helmet off.

I bite down on my cheek and watch him cup the back of Nate’s head and ask him a question. Nate says no, then nods.

“He’s most likely asking him if he hit his head,” Gracie tells me.

“Because he could have a concussion,” I whisper.

“Jamie had two when he was in high school. I used to have nightmares about them.”

“Nate hasn’t had one. Not yet.”

Nova squeezes my hand. “He will be okay. Uncle J will make sure of it.”

Oliver reaches behind his wife to rub at Nova’s back before standing. “I’m going to go down and make sure he doesn’t go back for that ref.”

“Thank you,” I mumble, starting to feel guilty for not being the one taking care of this. “Maybe I’ll go too. Nate’s my brother.”

Usually, I’d be the one threatening a ref for missing that call. It’s my responsibility to take care of him.

“Jamie’s got this one, sweetheart,” Gracie soothes.

I know he does. With every second he’s down there talking to my brother and his coach, the harder I fall in love with him. I trust him to take care of this, and that’s the scariest part .

“How about you go get a drink? I can come with you if that would help,” Gracie offers, trying so damn hard to comfort me.

“A drink is good. I’ll be quick.”

“Alright, sweetheart. Jamie’s got your brother.”

I give a shaky nod in response and start making my way past everyone else and then down the bleachers. The concession stand is close, and the line is short with everyone too busy watching Jamie Bateman beat a referee’s ass at a high school football game.

It will be a good headline tomorrow. Graham will be happy with it, at least. As far as I know, while they aren’t selling out of seats every night, the buzz we’ve managed to create so far has helped with more than just filling a few rows at the stadium. The online traction has been building, and jersey sales are up.

It’s almost hard to believe that I was able to help with that. Plain Jane Blakely Monroe has made a difference in the sports world. I wouldn’t have bought it three months ago.

The line at the concession clears out, and I step up, ready to order when the air shifts. A rock settles in my stomach like a bad omen, and I flash an apologetic smile at the concession worker before stepping aside. It’s almost like I know who I’m going to see before I turn around.

“Blakely?”

Pain steals my breath. Her voice is the same as it was five years ago, only lighter, like without the weight of us, she’s happier.

Hiding my emotions behind a blank mask, I turn around to face my mother.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask before she has a chance to open her mouth.

She looks as terrible as she did the day she left, with her hollowed cheekbones, thin brows, and pale green eyes. Her jacket is puffy, missing a zipper, and most likely stolen.

The resemblance she has to me is uncanny. It’s enough to piss me off all on its own, as if I don’t have a million other things to be mad about first.

“Is that really how you want to greet me after five years apart?” she asks.

“I don’t want to greet you at all, so I’d take what I’ve offered if I were you.”

“Alright, fine.”

I lift my brows pointedly. “So? What are you doing here? How did you even know about the game?”

“I’ve been around. And this is where you went to school. Nathan was always playing football. Figured this was a good place to look for you.”

“I’m surprised you even remember any of that. You were high so often that you spent weeks calling him Nathanial.”

She purses her lips and glances away. “It’s there. In bits and pieces.”

“Good for you.”

“Well, I see there’s no love lost here,” she jokes gruffly, looking at me again.

“Does it really matter to you? What do you want? Money?”

“You always were the smart one out of you and your brother.”

Anger bubbles beneath my skin. “I don’t have any money to give you.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Scoffing, I steal a look toward the field to make sure there isn’t anyone coming toward us. There isn’t anyone.

“Do you think you left me with a trust fund when you took off? I’ve been raising your son on my own. Sorry that money’s a bit tight right now.”

“That was before, Blakely. Things have changed for you now.”

My hackles rise as I piece together what she’s hinting at. “No, they haven’t.”

She slides her hands into her jacket pockets and sighs. “I saw the video of you, honey. All it took was one Google search to learn everything. You’re not being truthful with me right now.”

The video of me telling off the reporter, most likely.

“My husband’s money is not my money. And it certainly isn’t anything that I would give to you. So, if that’s what you came for, you can leave now.”

“Nathan is only fifteen, sweetie.”

“You don’t have to remind me of his age,” I spit, my restraint starting to slip.

“I do. Because until he’s eighteen, he’s mine to care for. And maybe I’m starting to feel a little homesick.”

She’s not my mother right now. The only thing she is right now is a danger to my brother. That’s what I tell myself when I lunge for her.

“If you’re going to threaten me, do it outright,” I demand, taking a fistful of her jacket and using the hold to haul her toward me. “Try taking him from me. I dare you.”

“What’s going on here?” Jamie asks, appearing at my side. With a steady hand, he peels my fingers from my mother’s coat and shifts me ever so slightly behind him, his eyes finding mine. “What did she do to you?”

My mother guffaws, straightening her jacket. “What did I do to her ? Did you not see the way she was touching me?”

“I did, and my question stands,” he snaps.

I take a deep breath and press my hand to his back. “Let’s just go, Jamie.”

He doesn’t immediately agree. Concern pulls his features taut as he hesitates, searching my eyes for answers, knowing he won’t find any on my face.

“Please. I want to see Nate,” I whisper.

Interlocking our fingers, he nods stiffly and moves me to his other side, the one furthest away from my mother.

“You don’t want to stay and chat? It’s rude not to introduce your mother to your husband, Blakely,” she calls as we start to leave .

Jamie tightens his hold. I’m too scared to look up and see if he’s embarrassed or upset. Instead, I keep my mouth shut and hope that he knows me well enough to keep from asking me to open up about this right now.

It’ll happen as soon as we get home. But for now, I just want to play pretend.