26. Austin
TWENTY-SIX
AUSTIN
I fidget with the straw wrapper on the table in front of me, looking out the window of the almost-empty diner. I found this place by chance not too long after my shoulder surgery, loving that it was a lesser-known gem on the outskirts of the city.
I wasn’t in a good headspace back then—grappling with a career-ending injury—and while I knew I needed to get out of the house, going into public places filled with Renegades fans was the last thing I wanted to do.
They were so kind and sympathetic, wishing me well in my recovery.
But sometimes, I just wanted to disappear and process all the things I lost, which is exactly how I ended up at Bea’s Lakeside Diner.
I still come here whenever I need a break from the noise, or when I want to get some great food without people taking photos of me stuffing my face.
But today, I’m here for another reason, and I might actually shit my pants.
“Can I get you some food to go with that lemon water?” A raspy feminine voice cuts through my thoughts, making me jump out of my skin.
My eyes go wide, and I turn to find Bea standing there with a questioning look written across her face.
She’s in her early seventies, with her gray hair pulled into a bun so tight that she always looks surprised.
Her signature hot pink apron has ruffles along the pockets, which is actually a little bit funny, since her personality is anything but bright.
The woman has been through hell, her first husband running off with her best friend, and the next had a gambling problem that almost cost her this diner.
She claims that she’s prickly to keep shady men away, but I think that deep down, she’s just been hurt a lot.
Maybe that’s why she and I hit it off so well at first, because this was the only place I let myself be angry at the world after my surgery.
I couldn’t do it at home, since Stella was living in my guest house and doing everything she could to make sure I was okay.
I tried putting on a happy face for my friends when I was dying on the inside because I didn’t want them to worry.
But every time I stepped through the door to Bea’s Lakeside, the big bell on the door summoning her from the back, I knew I’d be able to wallow without judgement for as long as I needed to.
“Uh, no thanks. Water’s fine for now,” I reply, wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans. “I’m just waiting for a friend.”
She arches a penciled brow. “You owe this friend money or something? You’re awfully jumpy.”
“No,” I groan. “Worse. I fell for his sister, and now I have to tell him.”
She cringes. “Well, shit. I guess I should get the popcorn ready, then. If he kicks your ass, you’re staying after to clean up the mess.”
I roll my eyes. “Thanks for the support, Bea. I really appreciate it.”
She snickers, her eyes going wide as movement in the parking lot catches her attention. I turn, watching as Memphis’ brand-new sports car emerges from a cloud of dust and stops right in front of the window.
“Looks like it’s time to confess your sins,” she teases.
“I’ll be in the back eavesdropping if you change your mind about the food.
” And with that, she’s gone, leaving me on my own as my stomach churns with dread.
Sweat beads at the back of my neck, a lump forming in my throat when he stands from the driver’s seat and heads toward the door.
I consider pulling the plug and running out, telling him that I just got an urgent call, but the longer I wait to come clean about everything that’s been going on between Paris and me, the worse it’s going to be.
It’s already gone on way longer than it should, me giving him a million excuses about why I’ve been hanging around her house.
A guy can only weed the flower beds so many times before it starts to look suspicious.
“Hey, man,” he says, stepping up to the table.
I stand, shaking his outstretched hand in greeting and hoping he doesn’t notice how fucking clammy it is.
I’m normally a really chill, put-together guy, but all rationality has vanished into thin air as I wonder how the hell I’m going to handle it if he doesn’t approve of me being with his sister.
I’d rather him just kick my ass instead.
“Thanks for coming,” I reply, my voice hoarse as he takes the seat across from me. “Nice day out, huh? It’s finally starting to cool off.”
He says nothing in response, cocking a brow before he slowly sits back and crosses his gigantic forearms across his chest. I’m suddenly very aware of how easily he’d be able to choke me out with those things, watching the life fade from my eyes as he whispered something badass like Bad choice, motherfucker.
Unable to handle the awkward silence, I keep going. “The meteorologist on channel eight said we can expect low sixties by the weekend. Maybe even some rain.”
What the fuck am I even saying?
I consider rambling on when he stays quiet, my neck flaming hot as a single drop of sweat rolls down the back of my T-shirt.
But unfortunately, that’s all I caught from this morning’s seven-day forecast, and I’m not really sure how to transition from Looks like a chilly weekend to Hey, I’m fucking your sister.
My mouth opens and closes several times as I search for the words, none of them seeming like the right ones, until finally, he puts me out of my goddamn misery.
“I know you didn’t bring me all the way to the other side of Cleveland to talk about the weather, Baker. So why don’t we just get to the part where you tell me you’re dating Paris, and we can get some food. I’m starving.”
I freeze, blinking rapidly. “What?”
His upper lip curls on one side, his brows pinching in. “C’mon, dude. No man spends that much time lurking around a woman’s shrubbery without a reason. I’ve known for at least a month. I was just waiting for one of you boneheads to admit it out loud.”
“I wasn’t lurking around her shrubbery,” I mutter. “I was trimming the hedges, so she could see outside.”
He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “Whatever you want to tell yourself. Can we please order some food before I get hangry?”
My head rears back, and I put two palms out between us. “Hold on. I just told you that I’ve been sneaking around with your sister, and you’re worried about food?”
“Technically, I told you that. You were talking about the wind chill, looking like you were on the verge of pissing yourself.”
“And you don’t care?” I ask, my expression twisting in confusion.
“I don’t know,” he replies. “Should I? Are you planning on hurting her?”
I scoff. That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. “Of course not.”
“Alright, then.”
“And the age difference? Or the fact that I’m in the public eye?” I chew the inside of my cheek, but he just shrugs nonchalantly.
“Non-issues. Be good to my sister, Baker. Simple as that.”
I sit there dumbfounded, not really sure where to go with this.
I was expecting an inquisition. Or at least an angry lecture about what’ll happen to me if I don’t treat her right.
But this? Him not even batting an eyelash as he stares, wondering if we’re going to eat or not?
I can’t lie…it’s throwing me for a loop.
Noticing my bewilderment, his shoulders slump, and he levels me with a serious expression.
“Look. Paris has been through a lot of shit. I don’t know how much she’s opened up to you about what it was like growing up in our house.
But I can assure you that whatever you heard, the reality was a million times worse.
“Our parents raised her to be a wife and mother, and nothing else.
They taught her how to cook, clean, and care for children, never giving her the option for anything else.
She wanted more, but when she came home one day and told them that she was pregnant, they took that as their opportunity to gaslight her into thinking she had no other choice but to get married and stay in the home.
“I was already out of the house by then, but I begged her not to do it. I was still in the minors, so I wasn’t making a ton of money, but I promised her that I’d make it work if she left.
She was already so brainwashed by then, though.
She did exactly what they told her to, marrying that asshole before she even graduated high school.
“She thought it was the right thing, and all I could do was wait on the sidelines until she finally figured everything out for herself. I was out the door, on my way to her the moment she called and told me that she was done living that way, but I know it wasn’t easy for her to leave.
It took so much bravery to get out and change her mindset the way she did.
So, if you’re what she wants, and you’re ready for this, you have my blessing.
She deserves the fairytale ending she used to dream about when she was a kid. ”
My throat tightens with emotion as I imagine a little Paris reading those same books she buys for Lennon now—the ones where the prince stops at nothing to show the princess how much he loves her.
Her upbringing tore that future away, making her think her purpose in life was to serve a man.
But I’m here now, and I’ll do whatever it takes to show her that she’s worthy of the happy ending she’s only ever seen in storybooks.
If she wants me on my knees for her every night, worshipping at her altar, I’ll fucking do it. I’ll do anything for her.
“I’m ready,” I rasp. “Our pasts are just that—in the past. The only thing I see in my future is Paris, Rowan, Rhys, and Lennon. They’re all I want.”
“That’s all I needed to hear,” he tosses back with a smirk before scanning the diner. “Does anybody work here, or do we have to cook the food ourselves?”
I chuckle, turning in my seat. “You can come out now, Bea. It’s safe.
” A shuffling sound comes from the back room, then she emerges, two laminated menus clutched between her fingers.
She introduces herself to Memphis, who—as always—turns up the charm because the motherfucker can’t help himself.
In true Beatrice fashion, she’s unimpressed, taking our orders before leaving him to pout.
The guy is such a flirt, but for some reason, never seems to have a girlfriend.
Just kidding. I know the reason. It’s because he’s in love with his best friend, and no matter who he goes out with, they just aren’t her.
Too bad they’re both completely oblivious to it…but that’s none of my business.
Fifteen minutes later, we’re digging into our meals, opting for a lighter subject as we eat.
“So,” he says, stabbing his fork into the biggest chicken Caesar salad I’ve ever seen. “How’s everything going on the coaching front? Have they made an offer yet?”
I shake my head. “My eligibility doesn’t go into effect until next month.
I’ve still got my fingers crossed for the offensive coordinator position, but there are some other great candidates I’ll be going up against. No matter what, as long as I’m involved with the Renegades, I’ll be happy. What about you? How’s work been?”
He jerks one shoulder into a half shrug. “To be honest, I’m a little fucked up after the Gladiators drafted the nation’s top pitching prospect. I’ve been playing well, but I’m not getting any younger. The whole thing makes me nervous…like my spot on the team next season isn’t guaranteed.”
“Don’t even give it your energy,” I tell him with a tsk. “You’ve got the most accurate fastball in franchise history. They’d be crazy to replace you with some kid who’s never stepped foot on professional dirt.”
“I hope so,” he replies. “Cleveland is my home. I can’t imagine being anywhere else.”
And I completely understand. Because while I haven’t been here long, this city has given me so much to be grateful for.