Chapter Three #2
I shake my head with a huge grin on my face. “I can’t believe I spent my afternoon holding your hand at an OB-GYN office while you sat there secretly judging my life’s passion.”
“I wasn’t judging at all. You make my company a lot of money,” she giggles. Actually giggles. “And I do like football. It’s better going to the games than on TV in my opinion, though. Part of the entertainment is being in the stands with the fans.”
“I agree with you there,” I nod to myself. “But actually, I’ll confess. I played hockey growing up, so I have a lot of respect for those guys. The cardio is unlike any other sport. I would lose so much weight during the hockey season even though I ate non-stop.”
“Yeah, they do have a healthy appetite,” she murmurs, her playfulness turning into something softer. “And I am very grateful to you for coming with me. I hope you know that.”
“I do.”
A heavy silence stretches between us, but it’s not uncomfortable. It helps calm the knots of stress I’ve been carrying around the past few days.
Then, Buck decides he’s done being ignored and lets out a loud, booming woof that echoes through the room.
“Was that a dog?” Ellis asks, her voice perking up.
“Yeah,” I chuckle, shoving Buck’s massive head away while he jumps up, trying to lick my face. “Sorry. That’s my roommate.”
“I didn’t know you had a dog,” she says, sounding happy about it. “What kind? What’s its name?”
“His name is Buckeye.” I smile, wrapping my arm around his thick neck to pull him in for a hug while his tail slaps against the couch.
“I call him Buck, though. He’s about four years old now.
I rescued him from a shelter back when I was home visiting my mom.
I’m not sure what made me go in that day, but he’s meant to be mine.
He’s my best friend. They told me he’s some kind of German Shepherd-Husky-Retriever mutt.
My favorite thing about him is that he’s got one ear that stands straight up like a Shepherd, and one ear that flops over. And he’s spoiled rotten.”
“Buckeye,” she repeats, the name sounding sweet from her. “That’s actually super cute, Vaughn. And very on brand for an Ohio State alumnus.”
“Born and bred, Buckeye. Was lucky to play there and win a few Big Ten championships in my time there, and still managed to get my degree. Then when I saw his little face in the shelter, he had an Ohio State collar on, and it just felt right,” I say like a proud parent.
“What about you? Are you a dog person, or do you have one of those angry hairless cats or something?”
Ellis belts out a laugh so loud, it makes me laugh too. “I do not have an angry cat. But I do have a female Labradoodle. She’s chocolate brown and forty pounds of pure puppy energy, even though she’s three now. And her name is Oshie.”
“Oshie?” I repeat. “As in…”
“Yep,” she confirms. “Former Capitals legend, Stanley Cup champion, and one of my all-time favorite players. Even though he’s retired now, my Oshie carries on the legacy. She spends most of her days chasing her own tail and sleeping on my bed.”
“Unreal,” I groan. “You named your dog after a hockey player. You’re hopeless.”
“She’s adorable,” she defends. “And she has great fur.”
“Have you ever gotten to meet him? I heard he’s a great guy.”
“I have multiple times. His family is lovely too. He did a short contract with us when he was still playing, so I got to know his wife, and he’d bring his kids to the set sometimes.”
“I bet Buck and Oshie would love to chase each other around,” I say smoothly. “It’s way too cold out now to stand around freezing our toes off, but once it gets warmer, we should take them to a dog park so they can play. Let them get out all their energy.”
I pause, letting the words linger. I’m not sure what made me say that, but now my chest feels tight. Taking our dogs to a park together in a few months isn’t just a casual interaction. Far past casual friendship and professional relationship.
But Ellis doesn’t hesitate.
“I’d love that,” she says. “Although by the time it actually warms up in April or May, I’ll have a massive baby bump. Imagine me waddling through the dog park trying to chase down a forty-pound dog with a giant belly. It’s going to be a joke.”
“Aww, hey now,” I laugh lightly. “I’ll be there to chase Oshie for you. You can just sit on a bench, put your feet up, and look cute.”
Fuck. My mouth can’t stop today.
“Deal,” she says with no awkwardness. “I’m holding you to that.”
We slip into another pause, the kind that usually signals the end of a call. I hear her shift under the blanket on the other end of the line, a tired sigh escaping.
“Brody?”
“Yeah, Princess?”
“I…scheduled my next appointment,” she says, her voice sounding hesitant. “It’s in two weeks at nine am.”
She’s not asking me to go with her directly. She’s just putting the information out there, giving me the choice while keeping her pride intact.
But it’s a no-brainer for me. My response was sitting on my tongue before she even finished the sentence.
“Sounds good,” I say, my voice firm. “Send me the address again and the time. I’ll pick you up around eight-thirty.”
Through the line, I hear her suck in a breath. Then a long exhale, carried by the sounds of relief that I can practically feel through the phone.
“You don’t have to do that, Brody,” she says, although the relief in her tone contradicts her words. “It’s just a check-up. I don’t want you to miss any meetings or practice, and —”
“Ellis,” I cut her off gently but firmly. “I told you the other day, I’m happy to sit in those rooms with you. I don’t care if it’s a routine check-up, sonogram, or a blood test. You’re not doing this alone. I’ll be with you until you kick me out.”
“Okay,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “Thank you, Brody.”
“Get some sleep,” I say, smiling and leaning my head back against the couch. “Give Oshie a scratch behind the ears and cuddle.”
“I will. Night, Brody.”
“Night, Ellis.”
I wait for her to end the call, leaving me in the silence of my living room.
I lower the phone to my chest and glance over to the fireplace. Buck lets out a huff, resting his head on my lap again and instantly falling asleep.
What the hell am I doing? The logical part of my brain is catching up now to all the things I said during that call.
I’m twenty-six years old. I’m at the end of a demanding NFL season. My schedule is insane for at least the next month. My body is beaten up every week, my life is on full screen, and my agent is hyper-focused on keeping my endorsement deal with Overtime in place with an extension.
And here I am, inserting myself into the middle of a huge situation with one of the legacies of said company who happens to be carrying another man’s child.
A man who happens to be a high-profile athlete himself.
If the media catches wind of this, if Dylan changes his mind, if the Titans front office got involved…
it would turn into a media circus that could derail everything I’ve worked for.
Am I getting too involved? Am I crossing a line I have no business standing near?
I close my eyes, listening to the crackle of the wood in the fireplace, and let the memory of that first office visit play in my mind.
I think about Ellis sitting in my truck, trying hard to keep her cool. I think about her hand trembling in mine when the nurse drew her blood. I think about the awe on her gorgeous face when that tiny heartbeat filled the room.
I think about the way she sounded when I told her I’d be there for her next appointment.
The rational doubts in my mind vanish instantly.
It doesn't matter if it’s risky. It doesn’t matter if my agent throws a fit, or if the press starts asking questions.
My dad walked out on my mom, and she carried the weight on her shoulders, leaving her to raise my sister and me all by herself.
I spent my life promising myself that I’d be a different kind of man, and I believe I am.
Ellis is a good person going through a pivotal moment in her life, and abandoned by the coward who never deserved her.
Standing by her side isn’t a tactical decision or a career move. It’s just what I need to do. Simple as that.
I close my eyes and squeeze them tight. When I reopen them, I smile when I look down at Buck, and his mouth is open, and he’s starting to snore.
I mean, it certainly doesn’t hurt that Ellis Renwick is smart, funny, strong, and so gorgeous that trying to keep my mind and my hands off her may likely be a losing battle.
“We’re in it now, buddy,” I mutter softly to the dog, running my hand over his head.
Buckeye stirs and lets out a soft groan, almost like an agreement, then settles his head again on my lap. I look at my phone one last time, then lean forward and set it on the table. My anxiousness has faded, but the thoughts…are possibly even louder now.