Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Babysit? Shaylene Turner does not babysit.”
The other side of the phone is quiet for a beat too long. Then he laughs. “I did call you, didn’t I?”
I roll my eyes. “Lose the sarcasm, Cade. Did Mallory tell you no?”
Out of our little crew, Mallory is the best with children.
Then Adri, leaving Jo and me tied for last place.
Keeping kids entertained has never been my strong suit, which is why Mallory became the go-to babysitter to Jax and Jules, her favorite twins, and I’m the cool one who feeds them chocolate when she isn’t looking.
“Who says I called her first?” He clicks his tongue. “I love my MalPal, but I picked up the phone and dialed you. You’ve never been an afterthought to me, Agent Shay. First place forever.”
Using the yawn he lets out, I catch myself and reset.
I can’t let his incessant flirting work on me today.
It has never been so hard to follow my own rules, especially ones that directly affect my job and future.
Rules give me control when nothing else does.
Love is unpredictable. People leave. Feelings change.
But rules have structure, giving me a sense of safety in a world that often doesn’t.
You won’t wear me down today, Cade.
“I’m sorry for springing this on you,” he continues. “Mom’s usual sitter is sick, and we couldn’t find another. She tried to cancel, but the event for CLU’s Provost is too important. I’ll come pick up Violet after my game. Shouldn’t be too late.”
If Trevor were here, he would say this is what I asked for, considering he believes I babysit my clients. Now look at me. Literally babysitting.
I honk at the Jeep merging into my lane without checking their blind spot. “What if I already have plans?”
The line goes quiet. “What if I told you Mom’s at your house?”
“You wouldn’t.” Turning onto my street, I spot the brown Cadillac in my driveway. “You ass! I don’t have time to babyproof!”
Or clean. Now that I’m making an effort to make it more of a home than a museum, it seems I forgot how messy a space can get when you actually have stuff.
After finishing work last night, I painted the living room pastel pink.
Grocery bags litter the kitchen floor from my shopping trip.
The half-built dining table I’ve been putting together for days is still in a heap in the middle of the room.
“Babyproof? Violet’s eight. I think she knows not to stick her fingers in electrical sockets.” Cade pauses. “Wait. Are you nervous?”
I chew on my bottom lip. “Sort of. What if she thinks I’m boring?”
“Don’t worry about that,” he assures me. “Violet thinks you’re way cooler than me, and the betrayal doesn’t sting much because I agree with her. It’ll be great.”
Somehow, my fears are soothed as I pull into the driveway. “Play well tonight, and don’t forget that I’m mad at you for not giving me more than a two-minute warning about babysitting.”
It’s impossible to feel a smile through the phone, but I do. “As long as you’re still talking to me, Shay, I’ll survive.”
The smug man doesn’t deserve a response, so I hang up and park. He better be glad I love the two people standing on my doorstep as much as he does. Becoming friends with Cade freshman year gave me so much more than a potential partner. I became part of the family.
In the driveway, Violet leaps into my arms. “Shay!”
“Hello, sweet girl!” Squeezing her hard, I carry her to the front door, where her mother stands. “Hi, Ms. Billie! Sorry for making you wait.”
“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Billie, dear?” If it weren’t for the steaming aluminum pan in her hands, I’m sure she would be hugging me, but her sweet voice does that naturally.
“And I know Cade didn’t ask you before he told me yes, so I’m sorry about my son.
He just knew you would come through for him. ”
Cheeks flaming, I unlock the front door. “Just doing my job.”
Violet sprints straight for the pile of stuffed animals on my couch, while Billie follows me into the kitchen.
Fresh fruit sits in a bowl beside the stove, a new addition to my protein-and-coffee breakfast before I rush out of the house.
Now I understand why Mallory and Sarabeth kept pushing me to eat breakfast.
Even when I get no sleep, I feel so much better.
I take the dish from Billie’s hands and place it on the stove. “Can I take Violet to the Carolina Rage game tonight? I have an extra ticket.”
The squeal from the living room likely influences Billie’s answer, but she looks as excited as her daughter sounds.
“Of course!” She slides the steaming tray across the counter.
“I had plenty of extra stuffed bell peppers, so these are all yours. Cade told me you hate red ones, so Violet made you a green-only tray. And here’s some spearmint tea.
Cade said bell peppers help with inflammation and spearmint helps with . . .”
When she trails off, I smile. “Facial hair growth. Acne. Hair loss.”
The heavenly smell of ground beef, rice, and cheese makes my stomach flip, along with the reminder of Cade’s thoughtfulness.
What Are the Odds taught us a lot about each other.
Our likes and dislikes, our fears and aversions, our comfort zones.
Throughout what was meant to be a silly game, we built inside jokes and shared history.
Which is how he knows that I despise red bell peppers.
But PCOS research is something he did all on his own.
Billie’s hug surprises me, her petite frame packing more strength than I remembered. “Thank you for watching over both of my kids. Puts this woman’s heart at ease knowing you’re in Cade’s corner.”
I’ll never pass up a motherly hug, so I melt into her embrace.
I’m so proud of my mom for girl-bossing it up in Portland, running her sports law office.
Many people might call her cold, but I disagree.
She made sure I was prepared for the world and could protect myself, and I can’t thank her enough. But sometimes, I need a hug.
“Be good for Shay, little one.” Billie catches Violet as she dashes through the kitchen and presses kisses to her rounded cheeks. “Don’t make a mess, and don’t put any forks in electrical sockets.”
My eyes fly to the silverware drawer. “She does that?”
At the front door, Billie glances over her shoulder. “No, but Cade texted me to mess with you about it.”
As she leaves, I send Cade a mental middle finger.
Maybe babysitting won’t be so bad.
Grabbing paper plates and plastic silverware, I turn to Violet. “So, should we eat dinner or make a fort first?”
“Hmm.” Violet’s eyes, that same striking shade of hazel as Cade’s, land on my couch. “Fort and then we eat dinner in the fort.”
“Gooooooooooooooal!”
Violet, along with everyone in the crowd, spins in wild circles, mimicking Holly’s celebratory tornado after her second goal of the night. Holly’s on fire tonight, and I thank Monsters, Inc. for her tears.
“They’re so cool,” Violet whispers, watching the dynamic duo, Victoria and Holly, rush down the field.
My chest swells with pride. “The coolest.”
I’ll always miss playing soccer, but the pain is sharper at times like this.
Being a defender was the most fun. I was in charge of protecting my goalie and slowing my opponents’ attacks.
I miss the lactic acid that burned in my thighs after sprinting across the field.
I miss the overwhelming satisfaction that flooded me when I successfully stopped the ball with a slide tackle.
More than anything, I miss the camaraderie that soccer brought.
From my random roommate assignment with Mallory freshman year to welcoming Adri and Jo into the mix.
Sometimes you have to give up things you love to succeed.
“And you work with them every day?” Violet asks in disbelief.
“Sure do. Most of the time, I’m in the office, but my favorite days are when I get to watch my clients play their sport.”
My forehead aches as Victoria heads a ball down the field. Holly’s ponytail whips behind her as she darts across the bright green grass. They’re so playful and goofy off the field, yet so precise and composed when they play. It’s freaky.
“For my summer homework, I have to decide what I want to be when I grow up, and I want to be like you. An agent.” Violet shoves a handful of Skittles into her mouth and refocuses on my phone in her lap that’s streaming the Pilots game.
“You get to watch games and eat candy and hang out with athletes! Plus, C.C. says you’re the best agent.
I hope he stays with the Pilots forever.
I didn’t like when he left. He never got to come home, and he was always sad when we talked. ”
“He told you he was sad?” I ask, trying not to sound too nosy.
“No, but I could tell. Sister powers. But he’s not sad anymore. I know that for sure. His smiles look different now.” Then Violet lets out a shriek so piercing it could be the referee’s whistle. “C.C. got hit!”
I almost laugh. It wouldn’t be the first time a bird swooped down onto the field and attacked a player. “Did the pigeons come after him today?”
“No! A ball! He was batting and got hit by the ball!”
Before I realize it, I snatch the phone away. My arm instinctively wraps around Violet’s trembling shoulders as I pull her close and use my free hand to rewind the game thirty seconds. I know exactly what’s about to happen, but that doesn’t stop the sob from spilling out of me.
Cade took a ball to the head at ninety-six miles per hour.
He’s still sprawled on the ground, but the sickening crack of ball to helmet has etched itself permanently in my brain. It’s even louder than the static in my ears. One second he was upright. The next, his helmet was in the air as he fell into a crumpled heap in the batter’s box.
Standing, I hold my hand out to Violet. “Let’s go.”