Page 74 of Pucking One Night Stand
Brody stares. “What the fuck did he say?”
“What the fuck didn’t he say?” I breathe out a bitter laugh. “Everything you can imagine, and then one more thing just to top it off.”
Mariana drinks again. Brody takes the bottle next and gulps some more, coughing slightly. “What one more thing?”
I take it from him, raise it, and follow their lead, swigging straight from the bottle. “I’m off the team. On the bench until the transfer’s finalized.”
Both of them just sit there, their mouths open, not blinking.
The first one to say anything is Brody. “Oh, Blake.”
Mariana sighs, “Well, there’s only one thing for it.”
Brody and I speak in sync. “What’s that?”
She locks eyes with me. “You’ve got to win Cassy back. Something bold. Outrageous.”
Brody nods, lips twitching. “And we both know you’re capable of that.”
Mariana taps the bottle against the table, her gaze softer now. “You get Cassy back, I guarantee you that McCullum will be putty in your hands. Providing he can see past the fact that youhit him. But at the end of the day, all he wants is for his daughter to be—”
“I know,” I cut in. “Happy. That’s all I want for her as well.”
Brody turns to me. “So… what are you going to do?”
I don’t know. What am I going to do?
***
After a whole night here at Mom and Bill's, I've had practically no sleep, lots of worrying, and too much thinking. I want Cassy and our baby so damn much. I also want to stay at the Aces. But where the hell do you go from rock bottom?
The scrape of a chair, clink of cutlery, and Bill’s usual satisfied sigh signal the end of breakfast. He puts his knife and fork together, lines them up like it’s some kind of ritual, then gets to his feet and walks over to Mom.
“Well, that’s it for me.” He presses a kiss to her cheek, already shrugging into his jacket.
Mom hugs him back, her arms loose around his waist. “Don’t forget we’ve got the Pritchards coming over tonight, so don’t be late.”
Bill laughs under his breath and casts a glance my way, eyes crinkling. “Don’t worry, I won’t be.”
Keys in hand, he disappears, out of the kitchen, down the hall, and out the front door like it’s any other Tuesday.
I finish what’s left of my breakfast, oatmeal, protein powder mixed in, banana slices on top. Functional. Fuel. I’ve had the same thing for years, but lately it tastes like ash. Or maybe that’s just me.
Mom sets her mug down a little too deliberately. Her hand settles over mine, warm and light, but the weight behind her words isn’t. “Blake, I’m really worried about you.”
I sip my coffee, mostly because I don’t know what else to do. “Yeah… you and me both.”
The silence stretches for a minute. Then my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, the screen lighting up with Grant Holloway. Dominion Sports Agency.Well, here we go.
I answer. “Morning, Grant. I figured I’d be hearing from you. Just didn’t know it’d be this quick.”
“Blake, are you free this morning? I need you to come in.”
I glance at the clock. Drills in just under two hours. “Well, I’ve got drills. What sort of time were you thinking?”
“Drills are the least of your problems at the moment,” Grant's voice is clipped, businesslike, but off. “Say…half an hour in my office?”
That cold little coil twists tighter in my gut. “Okay. I’ll be there.”
