Chapter Eleven
Brody
My house is always quiet in January, but the week after a playoff loss usually means pulling down blinds, watching game film to see what I could have done better, ice packs melting on the kitchen counters, and restless aches reminding me that another season ended without a ring.
A dark, brooding space where I lick my wounds and wait for all my bruises to heal.
This year, the silence is broken at six a.m. by the clicking of eight paws versus four against the hardwood.
Buck comes down the stairs, followed by Oshie, where they’d been sleeping at the foot of the master bed, and they trot straight to the kitchen. Buck rests his snout on the edge of my knee that I have resting on a barstool, letting out an expected huff.
“Sup, buddy,” I say, setting down my coffee mug. I reach over and scratch him behind his floppy ear. “Is our girl up? Is that why you finally got out of bed?”
Oshie waits patiently behind Buck, her tail thumping against the floor.
It’s been nearly three weeks since the playoff loss, two weeks since the dinner at her parents’, and a new routine has been settled over my life like a tailored suit.
Since my off-season has officially begun, Ellis stays with me three to four times a week.
She and Oshie usually drive in from the city wearing a tired smile, kicking her heels off at the door before sinking into my chest on the couch.
Sometimes, I drive into the city and pick them up and bring them back to my place when she doesn’t need her car, or she’s too tired to drive.
I stand and walk toward the stairs, climbing them until I reach my master suite. The door is cracked open an inch, letting out the faint scent of vanilla and cedar. Our combined scents.
I push the door open quietly and lean against the frame, crossing my arms over my chest.
Ellis is buried under the duvet in the center of my bed, still fast asleep. Only her dark hair and one bare shoulder visible above the sheet. The room is dark, the blackout shades keeping the morning at bay, but faint light from the en suite windows highlights the line of her delicate jaw.
Her body is definitely changing now. It’s almost as if the minute she told her family, she popped. Her hips are slightly softer, breasts fuller, and her belly is bigger and draws my hand like a magnet every night before we fall asleep.
I step in and walk quietly to my side of the bed, crouching down on one knee.
I reach out, my calloused fingers gently pushing a lock of hair from her cheek, and rest my hand there. She stirs at my touch, a soft hum escaping as her eyes flutter open.
“Morning, Princess,” I mutter, my voice soft.
Her eyes are a bit glassy as she looks at me, a lazy smile spreading across her lips. “What time is it?”
“Just past six,” I say, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to her forehead. “You don’t have to be downtown until later this morning, right?”
“Mhmm. I have a meeting at noon with the creative team,” she mutters, turning her head into my palm. “Did the dogs go downstairs?”
“Yeah, they just came down, so I thought you might be up. I’ve been up since five, though,” I reply, running my thumb over her cheekbone. “I’ll start breakfast if you’re ready. I can make some eggs, avocado toast, and that decaf berry tea you’ve had a craving for lately.”
Ellis sits up, letting the duvet fall from her body, exposing her breasts. She looks at me for a minute, her eyes searching my face with a look that makes my chest tighten in the best possible way.
“That sounds amazing,” she says, reaching out to trace the dark stubble lining my jawline. “But aren’t you supposed to be resting your body instead of waking up at five to play chef for me?”
“I’m good. Besides, resting my body is boring,” I grunt, capturing her hand and pressing a kiss to her palm. “Taking care of you isn’t. Get up, let’s eat, and I’ll take you back into the city.”
“Brody, you don’t have to drive me to Midtown every time I have a meeting. I can call our driver.”
“I know you can,” I say, looking into her eyes. “I just prefer knowing you’re safe, especially when the roads are icy. Besides, it gives me an excuse to spend time with you before you’re swallowed up in meetings for the day.”
Ellis stares at me, the warmth in her gaze deepening until she leans forward, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me into a deep morning kiss. Her lips are soft and warm.
“Okay,” she breathes against my lips. “Feed me, then.”
A few hours later, we’re in my truck on our way to Manhattan.
The winter sun is high in the sky, casting a pinkish orange glow across the Hudson River.
Beside me, Ellis has her laptop open on her lap as she reviews a deck for her afternoon meeting.
Normally I bring the dogs, but today I was going to head back home after dropping her off.
I keep my left hand on the steering wheel, but my right hand rests on her knee, right next to her laptop, my thumb absentmindedly stroking against her wool pants.
“So,” I speak up, breaking the quiet. “I forgot to tell you, but your mom called me yesterday.”
Ellis’s head snaps up from her screen, her eyes widening. “Molly, my mother? Called you directly?”
“Yep,” I chuckle, my eyes fixed on the road. “I was just finishing up my workout, and my phone kept buzzing. I thought it might be my agent.”
“Oh God,” Ellis groans, slumping back against the headrest. “What did she want? Please tell me she didn’t say something outrageous again.”
“No, though now that you mention it, she did ask if I eat enough leafy greens,” I smirk, glancing over at her.
“Mainly she wanted to make sure we were still planning to come over next weekend. She said you aren’t answering her calls, and she has three different interior designers flying in from London and Paris with fabric samples for the nursery, and she wants to make sure we’re there for the initial mood board reveals. Whatever that means.”
Ellis covers her face with both hands, letting out a long, dramatic sigh. “I’m going to throttle my mother. I told her we’re coming, but I just want a relaxing weekend with them so they can get to know you.”
“Hey, let her have her fun,” I say softly, sliding my hand up her knee to wrap my fingers around her hand, squeezing gently. “It’s her first grandchild. And honestly? I’m kind of curious what a Paris interior designer thinks a ‘football player’s son’s room’ should look like.”
Ellis lets out a soft laugh, turning her hand in mine so our fingers lock together tightly. “Don’t indulge her too much. Most guys would probably tuck tail if their girlfriend’s mother brought up ‘the Titanic’ at a formal dinner table.”
“Your mom is hilarious,” I say, grinning as the memory of Molly’s comment from dinner flashes in my mind.
“But she loves you. And she wants to spoil this baby. You can’t fault her for that.
Besides, your dad gave me a bottle of his prized whisky, so as far as I’m concerned, the Renwicks and I are solid. ”
Ellis looks at me, a warm expression settling over her face. She turns her body slightly toward me in the leather seat, her thumb tracing my knuckles.
“How are you really doing, Brody?” she asks softly, her tone shifting from playful to genuinely concerned. “With the season being over, I mean?”
I keep my eyes on the road as we approach the entrance to the bridge.
“Honestly?” I pause, collecting my thoughts.
“It’s always weird when the season ends.
From June to December or January, my whole life is measured in four quarter increments.
We win, we celebrate for twenty-four hours, we watch film, we do it again.
We lose, we feel like the world is ending, we watch film and try to fix it.
This is the first time in my adult life, since I’ve been playing football, where I don’t have a playbook waiting for me when I wake up. ”
I glance over at her, my gaze dropping for a second to her belly before returning to her eyes.
“My purpose is different,” I add. “Not like my usual off-season routine. But sitting at home, making breakfast for you, driving you into work…it just feels right. It feels like I’m building something that actually matters.”
Ellis’s breath hitches slightly. She squeezes my hand tightly, leaning across the center console to press a kiss on my cheek.
“You’re such a good man, Brody,” she murmurs against my skin.
“Just trying to keep you healthy and happy,” I say softly.
She doesn’t flinch. She just smiles, her eyes shining with an unmistakable warmth as she settles back into her seat, holding my hand all the way into the city.
By seven o’clock, the sky was dark, leaving Manhattan wrapped in a cold, blue evening haze.
I’d gone home and taken care of a few things around the house, played with the dogs outside, and taken a long hot shower. I dropped the dogs off at Ellis’s place since we’re staying there tonight, and now I’m back at her office to pick her up.
Instead of waiting in the car, I park the car in their underground garage and take the elevator up to her office.
When I reach her doorway, her eyes look up as soon as she hears my knock on the frame.
“You came upstairs,” she says, standing and stepping toward me as the glass doors slide shut behind her.
“Tired of sitting in traffic,” I smile, stepping forward to wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her into me. I lean down and kiss her. “You tired?”
“Uh, yeah. Four straight hours of budget reviews will do that,” she sighs, resting her cheek against my chest before looking up at me. “Do you want to grab some food before we head to my place?”
“I made a reservation,” I say, surprising her.
She blinks. “Oh, good. Where are we going?”
Ellis walks back to her desk and grabs her tote bag from behind her desk, and I grab her coat off the hook near the door.
“I thought Keen’s sounded good. I read that some red meat would be good for you,” I say, guiding her toward the elevator. “I think we can take the night off from cooking, and takeout doesn’t sound good tonight.”