Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Baker
My feet drag as I make my way to Coach Warner’s office. Reid and Bellamy told him I needed to talk to him. Not that I couldn’t have handled that phone call or text message on my own, but my friends wanted to help. Considering my coach is Reid’s father-in-law, I let them handle it.
It’s the first day of training camp, and the place is lit up with people shuffling through the halls, but I’m here an hour earlier than I need to be.
I don’t know how long this talk with Coach will take, and I know there are processes for what I’m about to ask, so I figured it's better to bank on more time than not have enough.
Reaching his office door, I rap my knuckles on the frame.
“Come on in, Sinclair,” Coach Warner’s deep voice answers.
“Hey, Coach,” I say, stepping into his office and closing the door behind me.
“Have a seat, Sinclair,” he says, nodding toward one of the two chairs that sit across from his desk. “What’s going on?” he asks, steepling his fingers. “My daughter said you have a family emergency.”
“Yeah,” I say, running my hands through my hair. “My son’s mother was killed in a plane crash over the weekend.”
“Shit,” Coach mutters. “What do you need?”
“We weren’t together, but she was his mom, you know?
” I say. It’s something I’ve been battling with.
I’m sad for my son, and of course, I never wanted harm to come to her, but she wasn’t mine.
She never was, and I never wanted her to be.
Hell, she never wanted to be. Levi was her endgame, and I was just the fool who fell for her beauty for one night of release, and here we are.
“When are the services?” he asks.
Leaning forward, I place my elbows on my knees and hang my head.
“I don’t know yet. Her parents are gone, but her fiancé’s parents are handling the details.
They were both on the flight,” I say, my voice gruff.
“The last I heard, they’re aiming for the end of next week.
” I don’t tell him that their bodies need to be flown home, which is horrific just to think about.
“Okay. Tell me when, and we’ll get the paperwork completed for you to miss camp. One day?”
“Yeah, they’re local here in Tennessee, just outside of Nashville, so one day.” I nod.
“What about Camden? Do you need help finding coverage for him? Is the nanny going to handle that?” He’s all business, making sure I have what I need. William Warner is a great coach.
“My nanny quit, but Sloane is helping me with Cam for a while,” I explain.
He nods. “Good. Okay, well, when you know the date, let me know, and we’ll get you excused. Is there anything else I can do for you? What can the organization do for you?” he asks.
“Nothing. I’m good. Thanks, Coach.”
“All right, well, I’m sorry for your loss, for your son’s loss. Let me know if something comes up that I can help with or the organization as a whole.”
“Thanks, Coach.” I nod, stand, shake his hand, and slip out of his office. As soon as I round the corner, I freeze. Knox, Landry, Reid, and Foster are sitting in the locker room. “Hey,” I say, my voice raspy. “What are you guys doing here?”
“Support, brother,” Reid answers.
“We knew you were talking to Coach, and we didn’t know what you would need, if anything, but we wanted to be here just in case,” Knox adds.
“Fuck,” I say, swallowing hard. I’m trying really fucking hard to keep my emotions in check, but these guys, they’re my brothers.
We chose to be each other’s family, and fuck me, I didn’t need them, but I’m sure as fuck glad that they’re here.
I would just be sitting here in my own head, letting the grief for my son and the loss of his mother overtake me.
“We got you,” Foster says.
“Starting with donuts.” Landry grins.
I can’t help but laugh. “Don’t let Coach see those. It’s the first day of camp, man.” I shake my head at him.
“Coach didn’t see anything.” Coach Warner stops next to Landry and grabs himself a donut.
“Coach, you'd better watch the figure. You’re not getting any younger, Grandpa,” Reid teases his father-in-law.
Coach chuckles and pulls up the Rampage T-shirt he’s wearing to show us his ripped abs. “This grandpa is doing just fine,” he boasts. “Speaking of, when do I get to watch my granddaughter again? Are you not spoiling my daughter well enough that you’ve stopped taking her out on dates?”
“Oh, I’m spoiling her,” Reid says with a gleam in his eye. “My wife doesn’t like to leave our daughter, but I’ll set something up for after camp. Be ready for my call, old man,” Reid teases.
Coach points at him. “I’m holding you to that, as your father-in-law.” He eyes the box of donuts. “As your coach, finish that shit off before the rest of the team shows up,” he says, grabbing a second donut and walking back to his office.
The five of us quickly polish off the donuts, even Knox indulges, and we hide the evidence at the bottom of the trash can.
Today’s the first day of training camp, and while it’s a long one, it’s not strenuous.
Those who are newer to the team—meaning the rookies, a few of the less-seasoned players, and even some of us who’ve been doing this for a while now—stay.
Room assignments are given, health checkups, a team meeting going over the playbook, this year’s goals, and finally, a walk-through practice.
We won’t be in full pads just yet. It’s a quick walk-through, a few sprints, etc.
, to get our bodies back in the groove. But don’t let the first day fool you.
Coach and his team of drill sergeants will be kicking our asses on that field in no time, and we’re all going to regret those donuts and being lax in the off-season.
The guys and I stay fit, but we do cheat. The first couple of weeks back are always tough to get into the swing of things, especially with the service for Natasha hanging over my head.
It’s going to be tough, but we’ll get through it. I’m so damn thankful for Sloane and all of her help. If I had to find a nanny on top of all of this, I’m sure I’d be at my breaking point.
It’s finally lunch, so after scarfing down my food, I head back to the locker room to grab my phone and text Sloane.
Me: How’s it going?
Sloane: We’re having a good day. We spent some time at the park this morning before it got too hot. We just had lunch, and he’s down for his nap.
I’m typing back a reply when a slew of pictures comes through.
Cam on the slides, on the kiddie swings, a couple of selfies, and him with SpaghettiOs all over him.
Looks like he wore more of his lunch than he actually ate.
I’m smiling because so is my son, and it’s such a relief to know the nanny situation is tabled for now.
Sloane: He’s such a ham. He had green beans and applesauce for lunch, too, but didn’t eat them as well as his SpaghettiOs.
Me: He’s a messy eater for sure.
Sloane: He’s learning.
She sends a picture of Camden sleeping in his new big-boy bed.
Me: Thank you, Sloane. I’ll be home, but it will be later. Today’s a long one.
Sloane: We’re fine here. I told you that if you needed to stay, we’d be fine. Whatever you need, Baker.
Me: Thank you.
I don’t know what else to say. It’s not that I don’t trust her—I do—but I just need to be home with him.
He has no idea what’s happened, and he hasn’t asked for his mom, but he will, right?
One day, he’s going to ask, and we’re going to have to relive this nightmare, and I hate that for him.
So, yeah, I trust her, but I need to be there for him, whether he knows what’s going on or not. I need him. He doesn’t need me.
“Hey,” Knox says, stepping into the locker room. “Afternoon meeting’s about to start.”
“I’ll be right there.” I fire off another text to Sloane.
Me: Headed into the afternoon meeting. Be home late.
Tossing my phone back into my locker, I grab my binder and head to the meeting room.
The meeting drags, but it’s more about me than the coaching staff, their motivational speeches, and the playbook.
I try to focus, but my head is too jumbled.
Thankfully, after this meeting, we’re just doing a walk-through.
The last thing I need is my ass to get laid out on the field because I can’t get my damn head in the game.
It’s just after seven when I pull into the garage. I’m exhausted, but I’m ready to see my boy. Climbing out of my SUV, I make my way into the house. I’m instantly greeted with my son’s giggles, and a smile pulls at my lips.
Fuck, it’s good to be home.
Dropping my bag in the mudroom, I let Camden’s giggles guide me.
I stop just outside the living room to watch them.
Sloane is lying on her back, her arms and legs in the air, with Camden lying on her feet.
She holds his hand and pretends to fly him through the air.
His laughter eases the tension in my shoulders.
“Air Cam preparing for landing. Over,” Sloane says, pitching her voice as if she were talking over the radio to air traffic control.
“No wand!” Camden says, through his giggles.
“Yes, land,” Sloane says back. “We have to land the plane before Daddy gets home. He’s going to need hugs.”
“Daddy hug,” Camden says, repeating after her.
“Daddy could use one of those hugs,” I say, stepping into the room and making myself known.
“Daddy, pwane!” Camden cheers, and I step further into the room, scooping him up in my arms. He hugs me, his little arms tight around my neck.
“That’s the best hug,” I tell him, placing him on his feet. He runs and jumps on Sloane.
“Umpf,” she says, catching him.
“Cam,” I say, my tone warning. “Be easy with Sloane.”
“Swoan okay?” he asks, his bottom lip quivering.
“I’m fine,” she assures him. “But I sure could use a big hug.”
That’s all he needs to hear before he wraps his little arms around her neck and holds her tightly.
“Let her breathe, son,” I tease.