Page 38

38

JAMIE

I shut and lock the front door before joining Nate and Blakely in the kitchen. The kid is bouncing off the walls, his shakedown during the first half of the game long forgotten in the excitement of a win. He played amazingly and deserves to feel proud.

It’s a shame that I’m struggling to share his excitement. One look at where Blakely’s leaning back against the countertop with her arms crossed and expression closed off and I know she shares the same feelings.

There’s a conversation brewing. It has been since I caught her one second away from catching a charge by the concession stand. In the months that I’ve known her, I haven’t seen her that angry before. Not even when I poke and poke at her just to get her attention.

Their mother is exactly who and what I pictured. Someone with more concern for themselves than they’ve ever shown to another person and who would sacrifice you for their own benefit every single time.

What else do you expect from someone who abandons both of their kids?

“Did you see my last catch? I totally thought I wasn’t going to get it!” Nate shouts, spinning around and shooting his arms into the air.

Blakely forces a smile. “I knew you were going to catch it. You never miss.”

“Well, I did tonight. But it was a dirty play, so I won’t count it.”

“You shouldn’t. That kid is a little shit. He keeps that up and he’ll find himself playing soccer instead,” I say, reminded of exactly what happened.

Teenager or not, I should have kicked that shithead in the ass. You don’t make plays like that. Not anywhere. I don’t care if you’re a pro in the NFL or some six-year-old just learning. Football comes with enough risks without adding dirty players out to cause harm into the mix.

If anything had happened to Nate, I don’t know what I’d have done.

Oliver would have had to do a lot more than just take my arm and pull me off the field, that’s for sure.

“Ew,” Nate says, shuddering.

Blakely sighs. “Soccer isn’t that bad. You wanted to play it before you started with football. It’s safer, at least.”

“Please don’t start with the safety stuff now, Lake. I’m fine. It didn’t even hurt. You saw how quickly I shook it off.”

My wife brings her eyes to me, the question in them obvious.

“He was cleared, Bandit. There are no signs of a concussion,” I promise.

She holds my stare for a beat longer before letting it go. “Alright. In that case, you don’t need me to linger and baby you. I’m going to head to bed.”

“Already? It’s only nine. I was hoping we could play some Madden or something for a bit,” Nate says.

I squeeze his shoulder, stepping in. “How about you get some sleep tonight, and we’ll play in the morning before I head to the stadium? ”

“Are we invited to your game tomorrow?” he asks, almost nervously.

“You’re invited to every one of my games, buddy. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. I think we’re all just tired. Tonight was big.”

Nate nods, half of his mouth tugging up. “Yeah, okay. We’ll play tomorrow. Good night, Lake. Night, Jamie.”

“Good night. Love you,” Blakely murmurs, lingering.

I ruffle Nate’s hair and move to Blakely’s side. “Night, Nate. Don’t forget to take a shower. You reek.”

He laughs, waving me off. “Whatever.”

Blakely pulls away once I get to her and starts down the hall. I follow, slowing my pace to give her some room to breathe. Now that we’re alone, I expect her to finally allow herself the chance to feel and register everything that’s happened tonight.

She was expertly closed off once we got back to my family and watched the game as if nothing was wrong. I saw right through her and knew we’d face it once we got home.

Not just her. But us. Together.

I trail after her, bypassing her old bedroom and going into the one we share. She collapses on the bed, staring blankly at the wall. The air goes taut as I shut the door and peel off my jacket. I sit beside her, preparing for the building storm to erupt.

“Talk to me, baby,” I coax, risking having my hand bitten off when I reach for her thigh.

“What do you want me to say? Surprise! That was my mom, and yes, she is as terrible as she seems. Worse than. That was only a preview of what I dealt with my entire life. If we hadn’t been in public, I guarantee she’d have said far worse things. It wouldn’t have mattered that you were there to hear.”

“Yeah, Blakely. That is what I want you to say. I want you to say whatever you need to so that you don’t bottle it up. You’re safe here. Scream, shout, cry. Punch the wall or me, even. Just let it out.”

She shoots onto her feet and shakes her head, jaw straining. My sweatshirt hangs off her shoulders, falling to cover her thighs. It’s a common outfit for her to wear now, and I’ve been enjoying watching my sweatshirts disappear from the closet one by one. Slowly, she’s fully integrated herself into my life and my space, and I can’t get enough.

I’m so completely head over heels in love with this woman, and all that’s left now is for her to accept that and let me see the parts of her she hasn’t yet.

Starting here.

“That’s the thing, Jamie. This house is my safe place. This room is sacred to me. Why should I have to stain the walls with talks of her?”

“They won’t be stained because I’ll help you repaint them.”

Staring down at me, she blows out a long breath and curls her fists. Rage morphs into pain, and then her shoulders drop. I push back on the bed and motion for her to come closer, knowing that drop was heavy.

She moves in front of me and gently braces her hands on my shoulders before crawling onto my lap and closing her eyes to hide the devastation there. I pull her further up my body and hold her thighs, keeping her in place.

“Talk to me, Blakely. Please,” I beg.

There’s a heavy pause as she brings her hands up to play in my hair, searching for comfort. “My dad was a scaffolder. He worked long hours every day of the week besides Sunday to make sure we were taken care of. Mom didn’t work at the time and was more interested in pretending that she was a good mother than helping contribute to the family. She was a great actress in front of Dad, and I think he saw through her but never outright said anything about it because of me and Nate.”

Her swallow is loud, and I palm her back, encouraging her to lean forward against me. When her face moves to the curve of my shoulder, I prepare for the worst of her story.

“He had a stroke eight years ago. It wouldn’t have killed him had he been at home and not on the side of a building without being properly hooked up. ”

“Fuck. I’m sorry, Blakely.”

She pushes forward. “Mom left three years later. And honestly, it’s a miracle she stayed that long. Without Dad’s job, she pulled in some money here and there while I got a job anyplace that would hire a fifteen-year-old and tried to make up for what was lacking. When she left, things just got worse. I couldn’t keep up with the bills she left behind, and, well, you know what happened next.”

“You did the best you could. Tell me you know that.”

“Did I though, Jamie? Because I went days without eating more than stale crackers, peanut butter, and whatever scraps were left after I made sure Nate was fed. I let the bills lap over for months at a time and spent so much time working that I missed out on moments with Nate that I can’t ever get back. Not to mention that we were a few weeks away from being kicked out of our apartment and out on the street. For God’s sake, you paid Nate’s football fees, got him new gear, took care of the piles of overdue bills, and welcomed us into your home. If you hadn’t done that . . .”

I shake my head, leaning my cheek to her temple. “Don’t paint me out to be some kind of hero because of that. I wasn’t a guy on the street looking for a family in need of saving. You agreed to be my wife, baby, and all of those bills and fees I paid were part of our agreement. It wasn’t an easy decision or sacrifice for you to make letting me do that for you, but you did it anyway. Just like you made every other thousand sacrifices over the last eight years. It was you and you alone that kept your family in the place it is now,” I declare, needing her to hear me. “Nate is beyond lucky to have you in his life. We both are.”

She leans back in my arms and stares down at me, her fingers travelling along the edge of my jaw. It’s like she’s discovering who I am for the first time all over again with every stroke along my brow or down my nose. I let her touch me without speaking another word, giving her full control here .

“You have no idea how happy I am that it was your house I wandered into,” she whispers, tracing the shape of my lips.

“Yeah, Bandit, I think I do.”

“It’s not just this place that feels safe to me, Jamie,” she breathes out.

Gently, I hold her cheek and guide her close, our noses brushing. “It isn’t?”

“No.”

“So tell me what does,” I murmur.

“It’s not a what but a who.”

She drifts her hand down to my chest and softly pushes me until I lie on my back. I look up at her as she curls her fingers into the comforter beside my head and hovers close, still too far away.

“You’re my safe place, Jamie. It doesn’t matter where I am. If you’re there, I know nothing bad can happen to me. To us. I trust you to protect not only me but my brother. I’ve never trusted anyone but myself with Nate before.”

My chest tightens, my heart thrashing in encouragement. I take her cheeks in my hands and stroke my thumbs across her pink-tinted skin. When I bring her close enough for her hair to create a curtain over both of our faces, it’s easy to say my next words.

“I love you, Bandit. Loved you from the moment you called me Pretty Boy and left me that chicken pot pie in the fridge. I’ll always take care of you.”

She bites down on her lip to stifle the raw noise clawing up her throat. I ghost a kiss over her mouth, and she releases her lip, pressing both firmly against mine.

Her hands find my stomach as she pushes up and snares my eyes, refusing to let them go. “Show me, Jamie.”

“Are you sure?”

“So sure,” she whispers.

I smooth my hands down her body and cradle her waist. “There won’t be any going back. ”

“Are you trying to scare me away?”

“It’s a little too late for that, isn’t it?”

She smiles softly, moving her finger in an S down my stomach before starting to make the same movement between each set of abdominal muscles.

“Yeah, husband. It is.”