Page 17 of Dare to Embrace
I tapped on Tara’s name.
She answered on the first ring. “Lacey, aren’t you supposed to be loving on that man of yours?”
I didn’t share my personal life with Tara all that much. We talked but mostly about my career, although she knew family was important to me. “Do you think we can negotiate a pregnancy or two into a contract with the Iowa Cubs?”
Silence reigned over the line as the rain outside came down in sheets.
“Tara, are you still there?” I checked my screen to make sure the call hadn’t dropped given the storm raging outside.
“I’m here. But…”
Yeah, I’d figured there was a “but” coming.
“You’re forging a new path in this industry,” she said. “But you knew going in that teams are frigid about a woman. I don’t know that negotiating anything other than time and money is prudent with a new team.”
I threw my head back. “Why is it so difficult to want a family and play ball? Don’t answer that.”
“Lacey, enjoy your break. Love on your hot husband. Let me do my job.”
“Does that mean you’ll talk to the Cubs about adding in a pregnancy clause of some sort?” I didn’t know how it worked or how they would even word it. After all, there was a Pregnancy Discrimination Act. So maybe we didn’t have to bring up the subject at all.
“It means not to worry about the Cubs. And I’ve told you that if you got pregnant in the middle of a season, then it’s not going to end your career.”
She had told me that in one of our meetings, but I hadn’t believed her then, and I didn’t now. Besides, I wasn’t ready to find out how a team would react, despite a contract, which wasn’t ironclad anyway.
“Lacey, don’t let baseball ruin your marriage. We’ll talk when you return to Portland. And if I speak with the Cubs before then, I’ll call.”
I sighed heavily. “I need both baseball and Kade, Tara. The last thing I want to do is disappoint my husband. But I don’t want to lose all the blood, sweat, and tears I’ve put into baseball.” I had to say that one last time even though she knew.
“We’ll talk soon.” The line went dead.
I rested my head against the chair when footsteps clobbered on the wood floor in the hall. I flew upright, my pulse off the charts. “Dad,” I called.
The closer I crept toward the door, the harder my heart rammed against my ribs, and the faster my past reared its ugly head. The air left my lungs as a buzzing sound started in my ears. My PTSD was kicking in, something that hadn’t happened since college. But I shouldn’t have been surprised. The house held some dark memories with break-ins and even someone chasing me through the woods out back. Barry Weeks, a boy who’d befriended me, had thought I’d killed his father. But that feat had gone to the Boston SWAT team when Barry’s father was a beat away from driving a knife into me.
I quickly poked my head out into the hall. A nightlight illuminated the dim space, but no one was there.
Icy fear washed through my veins. “Dad,” I called again. He’d gone to Florida on business, but maybe he’d come home early.
“Lacey.” Kade’s voice dried the fear dripping from me, even more so when he came around the corner from the family room.
I’d never been so happy to see him in all my life.
He strutted toward me as though he was on a mission. I imagined he was. Kade Maxwell was always on a mission to make sure I wasn’t hurt or being chased, kidnapped, or killed. I couldn’t blame him. We’d had some tense times when my grandfather, who’d been head of the Italian Mafia in Los Angeles, had put a hit out on me. His reason had been to use me as bait to get a ledger that he’d thought my dad had.
I slapped a hand over my heart, hoping to slow it down.
Kade’s eyes were wide. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” My voice cracked.
He wrapped his arms around me. “You let me be the judge of that.” Then he lifted me in his arms and carried me into the sunroom. “You’re not walking away from us.” He set us down on the chair with me in his lap.
I hooked an arm around his neck. “Who said I was walking away? I just wanted a moment to think.”
“Then think in a room in our house. Fuck, it’s big enough for you to hide.” He waved his hand outward. “You don’t need to be driving in this crap weather.”
I traced the pad of my finger over his lips as my anger started to wane. I couldn’t stay mad at him, and he was right—our house was big enough to find a quiet spot to think, but I’d wanted to see my dad. He always gave me great advice. But I hadn’t known he was out of town until I’d gotten there.
