38. Sebastian
Chapter thirty-eight
Sebastian
As soon as I walk out of Sutton’s office, I send a text to the group chat.
Me: SOS. Meet at my place ASAP.
Eli: On the way.
Hunt: Might be a little late.
Holt: Be there soon.
There has got to be a way to prove that Sutton’s father is behind the bloody awful refereeing and the bad hits that haven’t resulted in any penalties. I have to at least try. I’d never be able to live with myself if I didn’t.
Twenty minutes later, I’m letting myself into my condo. I do a quick cleanup of the living room and kitchen, not that it needs it, but it gives me something to do besides stare at the clock while I wait for the guys to arrive. Eventually, there’s a knock at the door.
“Come in.” I hold the door open for Holt and Wes. Elias rushes down the hallway as I’m about to close it.
“Everything alright?” I gesture to his rumpled clothes.
He glances down as if just realizing the state he’s in. “Oh, yeah, I fell asleep on the couch.” He tugs at the back of his neck. He fell asleep on the couch? I don’t buy that. His clothes wouldn’t be this wrinkled. What’s really going on with him?
“You didn’t tell us you got cats,” Wes says before I can call Elias out on his lie.
“I didn’t. Those are Sutton’s. Meet Bert.” I point at the gray cat Wes is currently giving belly rubs to. “That one’s Ernie.” I point at the tuxedo cat who is watching us from a distance.
“Nice. Maybe Daisy needs a cat friend,” Wes says from his spot on the ground.
“No, I don’t think she does,” Holt says.
“Awwww.” Wes pouts.
“Anyone want a drink?” I ask as I lead the group into the living room, hoping to move on from the cat discussion.
“Nah,” Elias says.
“I’m good,” Wes says. “But thanks.”
Holt snorts, and I look over at him. He’s staring at the cat tree. “It’s massive.” He’s grinning, a shit-eating look on his face.
I shrug. “They needed a place to hang out.” Ernie chooses that moment to stroll in and jump up to his favorite perch.
“What’s up? Why the SOS call?” Wes asks as they all take seats.
“Should we wait for Hunt?” Elias asks.
A knock sounds on the door, and I excuse myself to let the last member of our group in.
“Sorry I’m late,” Hunter says, following me back into the living room and taking a seat on the couch next to Elias. “I was at the store picking up stuff for Mads and Tate when you texted.”
“It’s fine.”
Bert makes his way into the room and jumps onto the couch, sniffing at Holt. “Think he smells Peaches,” I say as Holt holds his hand out for Bert to smell.
“We should organize a play date. Daisy and Peaches get along so well,” Wes says. “Maybe these guys would like to join the party.”
“Maybe,” I tell him, although I have zero plans to organize a play date for our pets.
“So, what’s going on?” Hunter asks, changing the subject.
“Sutton’s father is a real piece of shit …”
“Oh-kay,” Wes says.
“You’re not going to believe what he’s capable of …” I explain who he is before launching into the story of what’s been going on over the past few days.
Elias whistles. “Holy shit.”
“I couldn’t have made this up if I tried,” I say.
“Maybe you shouldn’t play tomorrow …” Hunter suggests. What is it with everyone suggesting that I sit out a game? I know they mean well and that they’re worried about me, but I can take care of myself.
“No way.” I cross my arms over my chest.
“It’s you I’d be worried about, Hunt,” Elias says, pinning his half brother with a look.
“Seriously?” Hunter asks. “You’re the one who used to play for the Fury.”
I raise my eyebrows, trading glances with Wes. We’ve played the Fury and nothing has happened. I mean, sure there have been a few fights but when are there not?
“I’m not the one who’s married to Madison,” Elias says.
“What am I missing?” I ask.
“Madison’s ex-best friend plays for the Fury.” I start to ask if they were more than friends, but Hunter keeps talking. “Yes, they were only friends. He was an asshat. It was a whole thing. Anyway, he doesn’t like me. We’ve had words. But it’s been fine since.” He lifts a shoulder in a half shrug.
“Who’s the guy?” I ask. I probably should know who it is just in case something does happen at the game. And maybe so I can shove him into the boards just a little bit harder because I can.
“Elliot Jacobs,” Hunter says.
My mouth falls open. Jacobs has a reputation around the league, and it isn’t for anything good. The amount of times he’s been fined or suspended over the past few years is far too many, and there’s probably plenty of times he should have gotten in trouble and didn’t.
“You think he might be involved?” I ask, running a hand through my hair.
“He’s as dirty as they come. If anyone would do something for money, it’d be him,” Wes says.
“Do we think he’d be that stupid to risk ruining his career?” I ask.
“He’s not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed,” Holt says. I bite back a laugh because he’s not wrong.
“So, we keep an eye on him and watch our backs, especially yours.” I tip my chin toward Hunter. “And yours,” I say to Elias.
“We still don’t have a way to prove Sutton’s father’s involvement though,” Wes points out.
“I know.” I pace the room. “Anybody got any ideas?”
“I could text the PI I know,” Elias says.
I stop midstep and turn to him. “Why do you know a PI?”
What the hell is going on with him? I give him a once over, clearly there’s something else going on with him, and I’ve been too busy with my marriage to notice my friend is going through something. Maybe that’s why he showed up looking all disheveled and wrinkled.
“You want me to reach out to him or not? I’ll ask him to call you,” Elias says.
“Yes, please,” I say.
“His name is Logan. Logan Williams,” Elias adds as he pulls out his phone, presumably to text the guy.
“Why are you on a first-name basis with a PI?” Hunter stares at his half brother. “Something going on, E? Are you in some sort of trouble?”
“Nothing to worry about,” Elias says, waving his brother’s concern away.
“Except I am worried about it,” Hunter says. He glances at the rest of us. “We can talk in private if you want.”
“I’ve got it handled,” Elias hisses. “Please drop it.”
What the hell is going on with him, and why won’t he tell us?
“What else can we do?” Wes asks, interrupting the stare off between the brothers.
“I don’t know. Keep your eyes and ears open.”
“One of the guys I was linemates with when I played for the Mustangs plays for the Wings now. If Sutton’s father is trying to send a message, I’m sure he’ll want to fuck us up during the last games of the season.
I’ll text him,” Wes suggests after a couple of beats of silence.
We have two games of the regular season left—the Fury on Saturday, and the Wings on Tuesday.
“Good idea,” I say.
We chat for a while longer before Hunter announces he needs to get home to Madison and Tate.
“I better go too,” Holt says, getting to his feet.
“Me too,” Wes says.
“Same,” Elias adds.
Once they’ve gone, I sink down onto the couch, exhausted.
The weight of everything is catching up to me, but I need to call my mum.
She texted me the other day that they’d offered the farm manager position to the guy we interviewed a few weeks back, and I’d like to know how it went.
Plus, I probably should warn her about what’s going on.
A quick check of the time tells me that I should be able to catch her before she goes to bed.
“Hey, Mum,” I greet my mum.
“Hiya, Bash. You alright?”
“Sort of.”
“What’s going on?”
I tell her the short version of events, mainly about Sutton’s father threatening to come after the family farm, leaving out the threats he made against me and my teammates. No need to worry her more.
“If someone came and offered me a pretty penny for it, I’d probably sell. That would solve all our problems.”
I sigh. Leave it to her to joke about this.
“Mum. We talked about this. No selling.”
“I know. I know. But I doubt it’ll happen, so no need to worry about it.”
“But I am worried. He might, I don’t know, buy the bank and call in the mortgage. Who knows. The man is extremely wealthy. He’ll do whatever he thinks he has to to get what he wants.”
“I’d like to see him try,” she says.
I frown. “You’re not taking this seriously.”
“I am, but you can’t lose sleep over the things that might happen.” I get what she’s saying, but I don’t want her to let her guard down because who knows what Sutton’s father might do.
“Well, you tell me if someone comes snooping around or something else fishy happens?”
“I will. I will. The neighbor down the road came to talk to me yesterday …”
That has me sitting up straight. “The same one who wanted to buy one of the fields?”
“Yes, but this time he was asking about the back acreage, the land that butts up to his.”
“And?” I shift on the couch as Bert jumps up and settles next to me. I absentmindedly run a hand down his back.
“He wants to lease it for the season. I know you’re against selling, but—”
“I think it’s a great idea.”
“Really?”
I nod even though she can’t see me. “Yep.”
“Good, because I already said yes,” she says, and I bite back a groan. Why am I not surprised?
Well, it’s now or never. “I have something to tell you …”
“What is it, Bash?” she asks, sounding concerned. “What’s going on?”
I take a few deep breaths, hoping that she doesn’t freak the fuck out when I tell her. I know I should have told her sooner but I didn’t. Hopefully she’s so excited that I’m married and having a baby that she doesn’t freak out.
“It’s Sutton …”
“Is she alright? She’s not hurt or sick, is she?”
“No, she’s fine, Mum. I love her, and—”
“I know.” That has me rearing back. Seriously?
“You know?”
“I could tell the second you two got on the call. It’s the same way your father looked at me and how Harriet’s husband looks at her.” She sighs. “I’m happy for you.”
Well, okay then.
“Good, because we got married.”
She’s silent for a few beats, and I check my phone to make sure the line didn’t get disconnected.
“You’re married? And you didn’t think to invite me or your sisters? To tell us?” Her voice pitches up at the end, and I know I have some explaining to do.
So I tell her about Sutton’s inheritance and how she needed to be married. When I’m done speaking, my mum bursts into laughter.
“Bloody hell,” she says.
“I know. It all happened quickly because it needed to. And I didn’t want to tell you because it was supposed to end.”
“And now it’s not?”
“Now it’s not going to because we’ve fallen in love.”
She chuckles. “At least you’ll have a story to tell your kids …”
I sigh. Here goes. “About that.”
“Bash?”
I snort. “It’s not what it sounds like, but you have to promise me you won’t pass judgment.”
“Sebastian Marcus Henderson, I would never.”
“She’s pregnant,” I blurt out before quickly pulling the phone away from my ear.
The squeal my mum lets out is deafening, and I’m glad I had the foresight to move the phone.
“She’s not mine, but I intend to raise her as if she is,” I tell my mum when she’s done screeching.
She doesn’t need to know all the details of Sutton’s pregnancy, so I keep it simple and hope she doesn’t ask a million questions or want more details.
Because if she does, that’s going to be up to Sutton about what she shares. It’s her story, not mine.
“I’m so happy for you. I’m going to be a grandmother twice over.”
“You’re not … mad?”
“Maybe a little, but only because you kept secrets from me. But I’ll get over it. All I’ve always wanted was for you and your sisters to be happy, so if you are, if Sutton and her baby make you happy, then I’m happy. Thrilled actually.”
“I am. Very much so.” I smile. I can’t think of a time I was happier, not even when I got drafted. “This complicates things with the farm and you wanting to retire.”
“I know it does. Steve accepted the offer to manage full-time, and if we lease out the back lot, that does help a lot.”
“That’s good. I still feel bad …”
“Don’t. I want you to be happy, and she makes you happy. You need to live your life. Not feel obligated to come back here because your father asked you to take care of us.” What? “Thought I didn’t know that?”
“I-I didn’t.” I sputter. Six months ago, even a few months ago, I’d have protested more, told her it was my duty as the oldest to come home and take over. I’d have told her I was retiring. Hell, I did tell her that. But now, now I have my own family, and I want to stay here for them and for me.
“Relax. It was just a hunch. One I was correct about apparently.”
“Mum …”
“We’ll figure it out, and I promise to include you in the conversation.”
“Thank you.” I know she’s right. We will figure it out.
And at the end of the day, if it means selling, I think I’ll be okay with that.
Sad, yeah, of course, it’s where I grew up.
But I also can’t imagine being anywhere that Sutton and our daughter aren’t.
And they’re here, in Florida, at least for now.
Besides, I hated farm chores when I was growing up.
I don’t really want to be the one responsible for them as an adult.
“Now, tell me what else is new …”
We chat for a few more minutes, hanging up after I promise my mum that I’ll call back another day when Sutton can talk. I sink back against the couch cushions, close my eyes, and doze until Sutton calls me to come pick her up from the arena.