Chapter Two
Keaton
A day later...
Me: Good morning, fiancée.
The Mrs.: Good morning, future husband.
I know Lily believes we’re treating this like an inside joke, and it is, but part of me is serious. For the time being, we’ve decided to continue as if we are engaged. Perhaps not the best solution in how to deal with all the media attention that’s already started regarding the news.
Martin didn’t waste any time selling his video and the reactions immediately poured in. I’d warned Beck and my agent, Trent Walters, about what happened. I refused to lie to either of them. Thankfully, Lily agreed that they should know.
They were surprised yet understanding of the situation.
Both did gently remind me of the gentleman clause of which I assured them I fully intended to honor it. Beck also gave me permission to share that stipulation with Lily. He wanted her to have all the information and said, I quote, “I have a feeling about her.”
Me, too, honestly.
For the first time since I was a sophomore, football is not the most important thing on my mind or in my life.
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Lily.
Her smile.
How my great-grandmother Daisy’s ring, a woman also named after a flower, contains a gemstone that’s identical to Lily’s eyes.
Her defense of me when dealing with Martin.
That kiss.
Her easy acceptance of my warning that I don’t think I’ll able to let her go.
Her confession that she may not want me to.
That kiss.
How right she felt.
Her connection with my mom.
The obvious affection between them.
That kiss.
Yes, I know I’ve mentioned that multiple times but cut a guy a break. It was one hundred percent worth the wait to not experience my first until my twenty-seventh year.
Being the off-season, though not for much longer, I have more free time than when we’re on, and I intend to spend as much of it as possible with her.
I want to woo her.
Convince her to give us a chance.
Last night before we’d parted, we’d exchanged numbers and agreed to meet for lunch today. I’m going to her place, both of us wanting the privacy it’ll afford us. I know, eventually, I’ll have to share her with the fans and my parents, I’m just not ready to.
Having it drilled into me to never show up to someone’s home empty-handed, I took a chance and purchased a bouquet of lilies. I hope it’s not too presumptuous to assume she likes the flower that shares her name.
They weren’t easy to find as they’re just coming in season now, but my willingness, and ability, to spend a little extra helped me find them.
It didn’t hurt that the florist is a Mavericks fan and was thrilled to be a part of a gift for my new fiancée.
I knew our relationship would be big news, I just never expected to this degree. It makes sense considering I’ve never been seen or connected to a woman other than my mom. I really hope this hasn’t impacted Lily, but the chances are slim she’ll be able to avoid it for long.
I’m familiar with the neighborhood Lily lives in, so I know the drive is approximately twenty minutes from my house.
Her complex doesn’t have parking, which I hate for her, so I’m prepared to search for an opening on the street and resigned to the fact I may have to circle the block for a bit for one to become available.
Halfway there, my phone rings and I smile at seeing Lily’s name on the screen. “Miss me?”
“Keaton.” Her shaky voice instantly sends me into protective mode.
“What’s wrong, fy seren?”
“They found me.”
Shit. “I’ll be there in a few. Stay away from the windows.
” I want to tell her to make sure her doors are locked, my need to do something while I’m unable to do anything urging me to, but I don’t.
Lily is an adult. What I can do, however, is say, “Pack a bag. Bring enough for at least a week. We can get more later.”
“Okay.” I expected her to argue and was prepared to debate the reasons why this is the safer option for her. The fact she agrees without one tells me how shaken up she is. I can only imagine the scene outside her home.
“Do you have a back door you can sneak out of?” I’d rather not go through the crowd, but I will if I have to. Should I get her a bodyguard until this dies down? The likelihood she’ll need that barrier is marginal at best, but I also didn’t think they’d find her this soon.
“There’s an alley.”
“Can you be ready in ten minutes?”
“Yes.” I approach her street and see the swarm of people on the lawn and curse again.
It’s more than I expected and less than I feared.
Not ideal but I know it could be worse. I slow down as I search for the alley entrance and debate whether my truck will fit.
Thankfully, it’s larger than it looks and I make it with plenty of room.
Lily texts that she needs another five and I assure her she’s fine.
I don’t want to rush her, knowing this is a tricky situation and she’s being forced to leave her home, but I also don’t want the vultures to start poking around and find us.
While I wait, I send a quick message to Beck, letting him know they’ve located Lily and I’m taking her to my place. I’ll see to her safety personally, of course, but Beck needs to be aware of this new development.
Boss Man Beck: You know how that will look.
Me: I do.
Like she’s moving in with her fiancé, which will only add fuel to the engagement news and the attention on us.
Boss Man Beck: Be careful.
Not sure how to respond, I simply give his message a thumbs up emoji to acknowledge it. Physically, I will be. Emotionally? I’m already so invested in Lily that I can’t bear the thought of her deciding all this is too much and walking away from me.
The Mrs.: Coming down.
I stash my phone in my pocket and pull as close as I dare to the door. I wish I could’ve backed in to put her side of the truck closest to the exit, but I was trying to be as stealthy as possible.
Knowing Beck has the other under control, more specifically the department he and his brothers employ for such a task will soon, I focus on maintaining my calm. Perhaps if I portray the emotion, it’ll help her feel it, too.
It takes a lot of people to run an empire the likes of which the Decker brothers own.
All Decked Out is the initial company they created from nothing and it grew into a multimillion-dollar business within its first five years of inception.
Rather than rest on their laurels and enjoy the life of luxury their newfound wealth allotted them, they approached the governor of Michigan, their home state, and mine, and explained their plan to create three expansion teams in the city of Midland.
Once the logistics of it were worked out, they sought an audience with the WSL, Warrior Sports League, and gave their presentation of adding a football, hockey, and baseball team.
It was a lengthy process, but they never complained about the hoops they had to jump through to receive approval, threefold.
I know the number isn’t a coincidence but a well-thought-out choice.
They’re triplets. Identical at that.
Beck is older than Brock and Burke by five and ten minutes, respectively.
Football is Beck’s passion, making him the majority owner of the Mavericks.
Hockey is Brock’s, so he controls the Marauders.
Burke is all about baseball, giving him the top position in the Magics.
Each has a minor share in the other two teams, proving they’re not only business savvy, but also a solid unit.
All three teams are housed in Emerson Stadium, a compound in the true sense of the word.
As the seasons only overlap for a brief period of time during the months of September and October, it works quite smoothly for all involved.
It helps that, during them, they try to schedule only one home game a night, rotating who gets it.
The door handle jiggles, letting me know Lily is about to step out, so I meet her there, using my body to cover hers as much as possible.
Snagging her suitcase and duffle, I take her hand with my free one and lead her toward our escape vehicle.
I don’t want to release her, nor prolong our visibility, I tell her to open the driver’s side and I help her inside.
She scoots into the middle and I’ve never been more thankful I had a bench seat installed. I want her snuggled against me.
Setting her luggage in the cab behind me, I get in and reach over to fasten her belt. “Shouldn’t I move to my side?”
“No. I like you where you are.”
“Good,” she sighs as she rests her head on my shoulder. Well, my bicep since I’m still quite a bit taller than her while sitting. “I like where I am, too.”
“I’m sorry about all that,” I apologize, thankful she’s coming home with me but hating that the reason for it.
She doesn’t make light of it by saying it’s okay, which I’m glad for because we both know it’s not.
It’s an invasion of her privacy. “Sure seems like the paparazzi is determined to get us together.” We laugh, and I’m pleased that she’s able to joke about it despite the tension and fear lingering on her face and in her eyes.
“I wish I could’ve seen your place.”
“Another time,” she promises. Like when we pack up all her belongings and officially move her in with me.
“What made you become a paramedical tattoo artist?”
“Are you trying to distract me?”
“Is it working?”
“Yeah.”
“Then yes, I am.”
“I actually started as a tattoo artist, then trained to transition to paramedical after meeting a few clients that wanted to cover scars.” She pauses, like she’s deciding whether to continue and expose this piece of herself.
I wait, needing her to choose to. “They wanted to take something forced upon them and make it theirs. Make it beautiful. And I wanted to be able to give them that.”
This woman. Completely lacking tact, I blurt out, “I want to make this work.” I probably should’ve eased into that, but the hell with it. It’s true no matter how I phrase it.