Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Ben
I ran across the street with my nephew in my arms, bouncy style, to get him giggling. It didn’t take much to make Jonah giggle. A little shake, a little rattle, and the kid was raring to go. I didn’t know if all toddlers were like this or if my boy was something special.
My two best friends lived across the street from me. The fact that they were married to each other made my life easy, since they were always in the same place and I didn’t have to worry about tracking one or the other down when I wanted to hang out.
Sal swung the door open. “Were we expecting you?”
“Nope.” I picked up Jonah’s hand. “Say hi to Sal, Jo-Jo.”
“Hi, Sal,” he echoed.
Sal waved back. “Hello, Jonah. What brings you here?”
“I’m babysitting, and Jonah told me he wants to visit Benjamin.”
Sal raised a brow. “Did he? I wasn’t aware he was speaking that much already.” He addressed Jonah again. “Do you want to play with Benjamin?”
Jonah threw up his arms and squealed, “Doggy!”
“Yes, doggy,” Sal agreed. “He’s in the backyard with the kids. Come, come.”
Sal had three children: Lacey, Talon, and Scarlett.
All of them were outside with his wife Bea’s dog, Benjamin, who was not named after me.
I mean, Bea loved me, and I wouldn’t have put it past her to bestow me with such an honor.
Unfortunately, the dog predated our acquaintance. There was always next time.
Jonah was as obsessed with the kids as he was the dog—and all of them were equally smitten with my nephew. Once I let him loose in their yard, he went tearing through the grass with glee.
Bonus points, I got to sit on the deck and take a breather with Sal and Bea, my other bestie.
She arched a blue brow when I plopped down beside her on one of the Adirondack chairs. “You’re here again?”
“Yep.” I stretched out my legs and sighed. “Jonah needed to wear himself out before his nap. Your kids and dog are the perfect outlet.”
The peals of laughter and happy barking coming from the yard told me all I needed to know. Everyone in the grass was happy to be involved in the particular brand of mischief they were getting up to.
“Happy to be of help,” she replied. “Where are Roman and Shira today?”
“Napping, or whatever they get up to in their bed.” I laughed. “Poor Shira has to carry my brother’s giant babies. I figured I owe her a break every now and then as penance.”
“Plus, you can’t get enough of your nephew,” Bea added.
“Right. Best kid ever. And since Roman and I share identical DNA, he’s basically my son.”
Sal sputtered from where he was standing by the railing. “How does Roman feel when you say that?”
“Oh, he loves it.” I winked. “Actually, I’ve learned not to say that in his presence anymore. Maybe don’t tell him I mentioned it.”
Roman and his wife, Shira, had had an…unconventional start.
Their first pregnancy had been a huge surprise, but he’d dove right into fatherhood.
She was weeks away from having their second baby—a girl this time—and I was vibrating with excitement to meet her.
After growing up with three brothers and adding Jonah to the mix, having a little girl in the family would be really different, but I couldn’t wait.
Bea reached over and smacked my arm. “Speaking of resting, don’t you have a match tonight? Should you be running after a toddler?”
“I do have a match.” I rolled one of my ankles, wincing at the pops and cracks.
At thirty-four, all my years of rugby were finally catching up to me.
I figured I still had a couple years left in me, though.
I didn’t even want to think about what retirement looked like.
“If I spend my day lounging around, I’ll get creaky.
I prefer being on the move, so I’m loose when I hit the turf. ”
“Okay. If you say so,” she replied.
I eyed my friend, who’d come into my life when Shira met Roman a few years ago. She never pulled punches, making it more than easy to always know where I stood with her.
“You and Sal should really hit one of my matches,” I said, not for the first, second, or tenth time.
She leveled me with a hard look. “One time seeing you get knocked out on the pitch was enough for me. Why would I put myself through watching you get pummeled again?”
The corner of my mouth tilted. “Aw, Beatrice, you care, don’t you?” I didn’t blame her for her reticence, though. The one time she’d come to a match, I’d gotten a pretty severe concussion. Seeing that had to be enough to put most people off the game.
She waved me off. “Shush, you.”
“Admit it,” I teased. “You care about me, and you know it.”
Sal folded his arms. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you get pummeled.”
“Hell yes.” I pumped my fist. “Wanna come tonight? I can have a ticket waiting for you.”
I’d inserted myself into Sal’s life once I saw the writing on the wall—that he and Bea were it for each other.
Sal was chill, but not as easy to read as Bea.
Now that I’d known him for a few years, though, I got him.
He didn’t often have big reactions, and I had to be mindful of my sarcasm around him, but we saw eye to eye over our appreciation of art and Bea.
Plus, he was a computer genius. If my internet ever went out, he was the first person I called. The man could fix anything electronic.
Sal glanced at Bea then back to me. “I need more notice. I’ll look up your game schedule and pick a date.”
“Cool.” I finger-gunned him. “I’ll get Rome or Natey to go with so you don’t have to sit by yourself.”
“Not Adrian?” Bea asked.
“Pffft. Do you really want me to subject your husband to Adrian? Next thing you know, Sal will be coming home in a gimp suit.” My brother was a kinky fucker, but I was mostly joking. He never went looking for new recruits. They came to his club voluntarily.
Sal’s mouth opened and closed, then he straightened his glasses and tucked his hands in his pockets, only to untuck them to spin the ring on his pointer finger.
Bea giggled. “That might be…”
“No, Beatrice.” Sal eyed her warily. “I don’t like the look you’re giving me.”
Bea sighed. “Okay. No latex for you, my love.”
He nodded. “Fine. Good. No Adrian, but I’ll be happy to go with Roman or Nate.”
“You got it.”
The car crawled up to the players’ entrance, and I let my head fall back against the seat.
It might have made me spoiled, but I never drove myself on game days.
Getting to the stadium wasn’t the issue—it was getting home.
After a match, I usually felt like I’d been chewed up, spit out, and maybe rolled down a rocky hill for good measure.
Driving home in that condition was a bad idea for me and everyone else on the road.
Better to let someone else handle the wheel while I groaned about my aches in peace.
We rounded the corner, and sure enough, there they were—the little cluster of fans camped outside the gate.
Some with jerseys, some with posters, a few already holding out pens like I might leap from the moving car and sign something.
I never did, of course. And not because I was a jerk.
The staff had rules about where we could stop.
My driver let me out in the designated drop-off zone, and before I could grab my bag, I heard the shouts.
“Wellsie! Over here!” “Good luck tonight!” “Can you sign this?”
I grinned wide at the handful of people pressed against the barricade. There weren’t many of them—this wasn’t the World Cup—but the ones who came early were the diehards.
“Lovely evening for a match, huh?” I called, slinging my bag over my shoulder. A couple kids had programs and Sharpies ready, so I strolled over.
“Big game tonight,” one of the dads said. “They’re all big to me when I’m running for eighty minutes,” I replied, crouching to scribble my name across a jersey. “Say a little prayer for my hammies, yeah?”
This was why I was still in the game. That, and I had no idea who I was without it. Most of the guys were a decade younger than me, but I didn’t mind being the old man on the team—not when I still kicked ass.
“Hey!”
A little blonde stationed by the entrance, holding a small microphone and fancy camera, waved at me. I stopped in front of her, trying hard not to judge. She didn’t look like a fan, but sometimes people surprised me.
“Hey yourself,” I greeted.
She was young—probably early twenties—all dolled up and pretty in a way that was a little unreal. I’d seen enough influencers at events and clubs to recognize one in the wild.
“You’re Ben Wells, right?” She had a little line between her brows. I couldn’t tell if it was from anger or concentration. Kinda strange, but whatever.
“That’s me.” I chuckled. “I’m guessing you’re not a fan.”
“Not really.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ve heard all about you. You’re a real piece of work.”
“What?” I stepped back, genuinely shocked. “What do you mean?”
This wasn’t the reaction I normally got.
I played clean and lived the same way. My reputation in my sport was golden, and in general, I was well received in public.
I was given a hard time by my brothers, but that was us.
For this perfect stranger to think she knew something about me? Well…I was surprised but curious.
“You know.” She huffed. “I’m Mazzy’s cousin, so I know what you did.”
“Mazzy?” That was a name I hadn’t heard in a long time. It made my heart kick. “Mazzy Belle?”
She rolled her eyes. “As if you don’t know who I mean. And her name is Mazzy Emerson, for your information. Belle’s her middle name.”
“Okay…” I scratched the side of my head. “How is she? Is she still in Seattle?”
“She’s great. Wonderful. Peachy. And no, she hasn’t lived in Seattle for years. She’s right here in Denver, dude.”
She could have knocked me over with her scoff. Hell, I felt assaulted by her continual eye roll. What had Mazzy told her about me? I thought we were cool. I only had good memories of her and had kicked myself for not staying in touch. There was something about her…and she was in my city?
I took my phone out of my pocket. “Can you give me her number? I’d love to see her.”
Her jaw dropped. “What? You’re joking.”
“No…” At least, I hadn’t thought I was. “I really do want to catch up.”
“Catch up?” She stared at me for so long I started to wonder if she was on pause. “You know what? Yes. I’ll give you her number. You should absolutely catch up.”
Grabbing my phone, she punched in Mazzy’s information, and I watched as she typed out a text.
Me: Hello, it’s me, the asshole, Ben Wells. I’m with your smart and talented cousin, Kylie. She’s in control of my phone right now because I have yet to develop opposable thumbs. I would love to catch up, since I’m a real bozo and think the world revolves around me.
Then she hit “send,” handed me my phone, and smirked. “That was what you were going to say, right?”
“Uh.” I stared blankly at my phone. What the hell was happening right now? “Did I do something to you?”
“Nope. Not me.” She flipped me off. “Good luck with your game, asshole. Don’t get tackled too hard or whatever.”
She skipped off, leaving me stumped and speechless.
What the hell was that?
I managed to put the strange encounter out of my head for the match.
I had too many people counting on me to pull through, and getting distracted could lead to serious injury.
I’d had enough concussions and tears for a lifetime.
At my age, something going wrong could put me on the bench for life, and I wasn’t ready for that.
As soon as I’d showered and changed, I pulled out my phone and found a message waiting for me.
Mazzy: Is this a joke?
I didn’t think twice before replying.
Me: Hey, Mazzy? This is Ben with two opposable thumbs. I had an interesting encounter with your cousin earlier, but I managed to get your number out of it, so all’s well. I’m pumped to hear you’re in Denver. Wanna hang out?
I figured I might as well go for the gold and not waste time with a million texts before getting to the point.
The night I spent with Mazzy still ranked high on my list of best ever.
I couldn’t say I’d forgotten a thing about her in all the years that had passed.
Knowing she was close by, I saw no reason to delay our reunion.
She could leave her cousin at home, though.
Mazzy: Okay, I know this is a joke. Did Kylie put you up to this?
Frowning, I tossed my bag in the back seat of my car and slid in behind it. As soon as my driver pulled onto the road, I hit Call. It took a few rings, but she finally picked up.
“Hello?”
I grinned at the sound of her voice. She sounded like she was calling out in a haunted house, braced for a ghost or axe murderer to come running at her.
She was still as cute as I remembered.
“Heyyy, Mazzy-mazz. Remember me?”
She gasped. My smile widened.
This was going to be so much fun.