Chapter 8
I end a tense call with Lydia and pocket my phone before knocking on Kellan’s front door.
Today was almost a normal Wednesday. It would have been had I not been so fucking furious with Kevin and his team of dipshit lawyers for the majority of my day.
Despite already attempting to soil Lydia’s name with their BS claims about her party history and the bald-faced lies in his supposed ex-girlfriend’s letter, they still won’t give it a rest.
Our review hearing in front of the judge has been set for tomorrow for the last month now, but late last night, his lawyer attempted to have it postponed. I’m not sure why, and clearly, they did a terrible job of convincing the judge, because she denied the motion without giving it any thought.
The denial hasn’t settled me, though. I reread her email thirteen times over the course of the day to try and dissect any sort of hint as to what caused the motion in the first place but couldn’t find a damn thing. That only pissed me off even more.
I don’t like being kept out of the loop, especially not when I’m this close to beating this asshole.
I sent my motion for Kevin to take unscheduled alcohol tests outside of visitation hours two hours ago, with an affidavit explaining how his recent actions of reaching out to intimidate Lydia suggest he might be drinking again.
Tomorrow, I’ll nail this fucker to the wall and make sure he’s unable to continue getting away with terrorizing his son and those protecting him.
“Well, look who finally decided to join us!”
I blink and focus on the towering man in front of me.
Kellan Pike is almost as wide as his doorway, with trimmed brown hair hidden beneath a baseball cap that almost looks too small for him, and a pair of soft chestnut eyes that you can’t help but stare into.
His dimples pop when he grins and pulls me into his body, squeezing me tight.
“Yeah, yeah. I missed you, too,” I grumble into his chest.
“If Finn isn’t getting you tickets for our games, all you gotta do is ask me. We miss you being there.”
“You can’t even tell when I do go to a game,” I counter, pushing free of his heavy arms.
He steps aside for me to step inside. “Yes, I can. It’s all in the energy, baby.”
“Right.” I slip my heels off and toe them toward the rest of the discarded shoes. The number of matching white sneakers is a bit concerning. “If one of you could get a girlfriend sometime soon, that would be great. I’d like to eventually not be the only woman at one of these dinners.”
“Are you telling me you don’t enjoy being the only woman to have our attention?” he teases, shutting the door behind us.
“Was that a serious question?”
“Whatever, Aubrey. You love us.”
“I wouldn’t be able to deal with the lot of you if I didn’t.”
With a low chuckle, Kellan drapes his arm over my shoulders and pulls me down the wide hallway toward the hum of voices.
The nine-foot ceilings make the house look even bigger than it is, which .
. . shouldn’t even be possible, considering how massive it is in the first place.
At a mere fifteen thousand square feet, his place has not only a pool in the backyard, but an indoor one as well.
His kitchen is the same size as my entire condo, and the main bedroom connects to a deck with a clear view of the ocean and his private dock.
I spent hours drooling over the custom, steel-grey-and-blue boat he purchased this off-season and still hasn’t taken us out on.
“You should reach out to someone about putting that on a birthday card,” he tells me, guiding me past the first living space and toward the dark-lit room the guys use to play their card games.
“I’ll leave that up to you.”
He squeezes my shoulder, eyeing me longer than necessary. “You seem stressed.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Eh, your eyebrow is pulsing.”
I swallow funny, coughing. “What?”
“The vein beneath your eyebrow spasms when you’re upset,” he says, as if it’s some obvious fact.
Reaching up, I poke my eyebrow. Sure as hell, it’s throbbing a bit. “It’s weird that you know that, Kell.”
“Blame Finn. He shares all your secrets with us.”
“Of course he does.”
“If you’re upset with Wes and Jett, may I suggest you brawl outside?”
“Do I look like I’m in the mood for a physical fight? Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle with them.”
I pull his arm from my shoulders and drop it at his side, straightening when we join the rest of the guys. The first clear sentence I hear comes from Beck at the same time Finn tosses his cards onto the table and flashes a cocky smile.
“You’re such a cheater, Avery.”
“Nice deflection,” Finn shoots back while pulling a pile of chips across the table.
Kellan reaches for the only empty chair at the table—his, apparently—and drops into it. His weight makes the legs creak as I hover behind Finn and hold his shoulders. Feeling me, he whips his head to the side and lifts his eyes. The quirk of his lip is instant.
“I was starting to get worried.”
Shaking my head, I let loose a weighted breath. “I’m here.”
“You’re okay?” he asks, worry sparking in his greyish-blue eyes.
“Can I say that I’m sorry so we can get it out there? I’ve been feeling guilty about Henry all week!” Wes says from the opposite side of the table.
I almost laugh at how stricken he looks as he stares at me.
Honestly, I’m already over the date he set up for me.
He’s texted me a dozen times since, apologizing, and I know he didn’t mean anything by it.
MLB stars or not, all of these guys sitting at this table are members of my found family.
That doesn’t mean I’m going to let him off already, though.
“Did you set me up with him because you think I need to start a fitness journey, Wes? Is that really what this was about?” I ask, my lips turning down into a steep frown.
His green eyes blow wide as his jaw hangs open, his tongue flopping around for a few beats. “What? No! No, that’s not it at all!”
“Are you sure? Considering how obsessed Henry was with cutting and bulking and making sure I was eating cleanly . . .” I trail off.
It’s impossible to keep from laughing when Jett reaches over from his spot beside him and swats Wes upside the head. Finn’s shoulders shake with silent laughter beneath my palms.
Wes sobers slightly when he hears my laugh. “You’re a terror. That’s absolutely not what I was thinking.”
“Yeah, well, you deserved that. Now, we can move on.” Pointing at Jet, I tighten my gaze slightly. “Your cousin is horrifying, by the way. Next time you’re at a family holiday with him, ask about his fascination with boudoir photos.”
“Finn gave me the rundown there. I’m sorry, I really didn’t know he’d gotten so creepy.”
I shrug. “It’s fine. But you’re all banned from setting me up on any more dates. Your credentials are shit.”
“You got it,” Jett says, an apology heavy in the words.
“Do you want to play?” Finn asks me.
I laugh and release his shoulder so that I can sit on the thigh he stretches out for me. “And ruin the night so early? No, I’ll join in after dinner so I don’t have to listen to all of you mope.”
Wes smirks at the taunt. “If I remember correctly, I was the winner last month, and you still owe me three hundred bucks.”
“Only because you cheated! Asher helped you win because he wanted the game to be done.” I take another look around the table, noticing that the grump isn’t here tonight. “Speaking of, did anybody invite him?”
Beck, the dark-haired, bright-eyed playboy whom I frustratingly have a bit of a soft spot for, clears his throat and sets his beer down on the table. “We did. He didn’t want to come.”
When Finn was first signed by the Havoc, only Wes had been a pre-existing member of the organization. The two of them hit it off quickly, and when he introduced me to him, we clicked just as fast. Jett signed as a free agent a few years later, and then Beck and Kellan joined.
The fans were welcoming to just about every new team member, but when it came to Beck, his reputation preceded him a bit.
If you don’t know him personally, he absolutely deserves the rep.
His attitude comes off as abrasive and overly confident in the media, and he’s never been interested in changing the way he’s perceived.
If it weren’t for the night I found him drunk off his ass outside of a bar two years ago and listened as he proceeded to bare his entire soul to me, exposing the guy that he hides with women and nasty headlines, I’d probably have written him off, too.
But no. Ever since that night, I’ve felt this annoying sympathy for the guy who wouldn’t know the definition of commitment if it bit him in the ass. At least outside of the Havoc. I’m pretty confident that he’ll be there until the end, similar to the rest of these guys.
I frown at him now. “And you just let him skip?”
“Should we have hog-tied him and thrown him in the trunk?” Kellan asks.
“No, smartass. I just mean he’s clearly feeling out of place. Shouldn’t that be more reason to push?”
Finn curls an arm around my back and grips my thigh long enough to shift me higher onto his.
His touch is gentle and familiar. Maybe too much so from the look Wes shoots him from across the table.
If he meant to be sneaky about it, he crashed and burned, because the wiggly brows are incredibly obvious.
This is how it’s always been between us.
When you’ve grown up around someone, it’s impossible not to be as comfortable with them as humanly possible.
It’s platonic. Or, at least, it was easier to convince myself of that a few years ago when I didn’t feel goosebumps pop up all over my arms when he’d touch my hand or find myself swallowing when his palm found my knee.
As much as I want to blame Spencer alone for my urgent need to find a boyfriend, there’s also a part of me that knows it’ll probably also help put an end to these newfound reactions.
With a quick flick of his middle finger, Finn has Wes chuckling and letting it go. When he speaks, it’s a low rumble that presses hot against the side of my neck.
“Asher isn’t the type of guy you can push into doing what you want. If you push him, he’ll simply turn and walk away.”
“He’s got a point. I’ve tried, but he’s pretty adamant about keeping himself separated from us outside of games,” Jett chimes in.
Wes cracks the top of a new beer and chucks the cap into the centre of the table. “If you want to try with him, go ahead. Maybe he’ll listen to you.”
“Gee, don’t sound so confident,” I mutter.
Finn shifts beneath me and reaches for his can of Dr Pepper. “It’s not you I don’t have confidence in. Asher’s just going through some shit.”
“And he’s not interested in opening up to the lot of us,” Beck says.
I reach forward and start collecting the cards they’ve tossed into a pile on the table, letting the topic go. The guys jump at the opportunity to change the subject, and I focus on shuffling the cards. Once I’ve finished, I deal the next hand.
“Sara’s been asking about coming to watch, so I got a row behind the dugout,” Jett says as I focus on the conversation.
Beck quirks a bushy brow and bends forward, digging his elbows into the table. “You bought an entire row for your daughter?”
“I don’t want her sitting with random fans, so I was hoping Aubrey’d come. I’ve got a new babysitter, and I’m not sure if I like her yet.”
“You want me to grill her?” I ask.
“Amongst other things. Sara’s been asking when she’ll see you again for the last twelve days. I’ve been counting.”
My lips pull up into a smile. “I miss her. When’s the game?”
“We’re playing at home for the next three days, but I could only snag the row for Saturday.”
“Send me the info, and I’ll make it work,” I promise, already mentally sorting through my upcoming schedule.
Jett’s eyes soften as he nods, his appreciation teetering on overwhelming. “Thank you.”
Before I can tell him his thanks are unnecessary, the doorbell rings.
“And that’ll be dinner. I’ll be back,” Kellan announces as he stands and tucks his chair in.
Once he’s gone, Wes announces he has to use the washroom, and Jett steps out to check in on his new babysitter. Beck’s too busy on his phone to pay Finn and me any attention when Finn leans toward me, his front warm against my back.
“Are you still good for tonight?”
“For our ‘date’?” I ask, using finger quotations.
“Unless you’ve got other plans, yes.”
I lean away from him so that I can turn my head, our eyes meeting. “Yes, I’m good. Are you? I’m not the one who has to play tomorrow.”
“I told you I’d help, Bree. And you have court tomorrow, so don’t make this all about me.”
Ignoring that, I say, “I’m still not sure how this date is going to work. It’s not like I can just forget who you are.”
“Ye of so little faith. Stop analyzing everything for one night and just let me try. If it doesn’t work, we’ll do something different next time.”
Still not fully buying into the idea, I nod, forcing myself to do what he’s asking. If there’s anyone I trust to at least try to help me, it’s Finn. Besides, it’s not like I have much choice with the days moving so quickly.
It’s this or nothing, even if I have a feeling that this is a truly terrible idea.