Chapter 6
brADY
Despite the fact that I just dropped the twins off at the ferry terminal so they can be back on the mainland in time for their classes later today, my phone is already blowing up with messages in our group chat.
It’s all my sister Blair, sending articles and photos about the home opener game for the Thunder that they came over to the island to watch.
How she’s finding so much content about our team is baffling to me; it’s not like we’re anywhere close to the major leagues.
But she’s scary when it comes to what she can find on the internet.
It was great to see them and to show them my part of Vancouver Island. We all agree we’re loving the West Coast a hell of a lot more than Manitoba, and honestly, the fresh start has been good for us.
But I’d only just gotten used to how quiet my apartment was when they then came to stay. And now, after less than forty-eight hours of the chaos that comes with three adults sharing a small space, I know it’s going to be hard to adjust back to the silence.
I pull into the parking lot of the big grocery store in Westport, the largest city between Cedar Creek and the ferry terminal, mentally reviewing what I need to restock after sending the twins home with bags full of snacks and other things they’ll need.
To say nothing of the items they just helped themselves to.
Pretty sure Barrett stole my razor refills, and I know I saw a tube of toothpaste sticking out of Blair’s backpack.
I don’t mind. Even if I hadn’t exactly planned on a grocery run today.
The store isn’t all that busy, with it being midmorning on a Monday, so I make my way around quickly enough.
In the health food aisle, I stare at the shelf of protein bars in front of me, overwhelmed with a choice of flavours, all of which will likely taste the same—like chemical cardboard.
I guess it doesn’t really matter whether I get chocolate peanut butter or cookies and cream.
I just wish I was choosing flavours of ice cream, not protein bars. Six months ago, I would’ve tossed both frozen treats into the cart and not looked back.
But after so many years not playing ball in any sort of professional way, getting back to and maintaining the level of fitness I want so I can play my best all season means sacrifices must be made.
Truthfully, I like having the sense of purpose. The commitment to the team and to myself. It’s been a long time since I had something to focus on other than the twins.
I grab a box of peanut butter flavoured bars and toss them in the cart before rounding the corner toward the produce section.
There’s a woman standing in front of the apples with long dark hair. It’s not Sage. I know it can’t possibly be her. But try telling that to my fucking masochistic heart that gets excited every time I’ve seen a pretty brunette recently. Every time, there’s a split second where I wonder if it’s her.
Except…is it?
Fucking hell.
“Sage?” My voice almost cracks as the woman in front of me slowly turns. Those light green eyes that I’ve never forgotten are wide. And still as beautiful as I remember.
I take a tentative step forward. “I…” I shake my head. “I’m not imagining this, right? You’re here. In front of me. For real.”
Dropping the apple she was holding, Sage twists her fingers together and lets out a shaky laugh. “Um, yeah, I am. Hi, Brady.”
Why doesn’t she seem as shocked to see me as I am to see her?
Someone reaches in front of Sage to get to the apples, and she takes a step out of their way, murmuring an apology. The movement brings her close enough to me that I get a faint whiff of her shampoo, and memories of our night together slam into me again.
The easy way we talked, laughed, and touched. The simple comfort of being around her. The instinctive way I was able to read her body and know what she needed, how to bring her pleasure.
Seeing her again is fucking incredible.
“What brings you to this part of Canada?” I ask, leaning against my shopping cart in the hopes of appearing casual.
When it starts to wheel away from me, I stumble forward, recover, and stand upright, hoping my face isn’t bright red.
Epic. Fail.
But when I look at Sage, she’s not cringing at my embarrassing move. Thank God.
As soon as she catches my eye, however, her face falls. Then as I watch, it turns white, then pink, as she puts her hand on her stomach and grimaces.
“Hey, are you okay?” I put a hand on her arm, concern overshadowing every other emotion.
She nods. “Just feeling a little nauseous.”
I move closer and shift my hand to her back, rubbing it gently. I freeze when she looks up at me.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be, it feels good,” she whispers.
I slowly start to rub her mid-back again in circles. “My sister would get wicked period cramps. A hot water bottle with a back rub was the only thing that helped.”
Sage’s eyes fill with tears, and I rear back. “Shit, what did I say?”
“Nothing.” She sniffs. “That’s just really nice of you to do for her.” She swipes away the tears with a shaky laugh. “God, I hate crying in public. I swear, I’m not normally this emotional.”
“Then let's go somewhere else?” I ask immediately, then mentally cringe. Way to come across as an enthusiastic puppy, Brady. “Please. I’d just really like to talk to you some more.”
Sage’s tongue darts out and moistens her lips before she gives a slight nod. “That would be good.”
I grab a few of the apples she was in front of and stuff them in a bag, dropping it in my cart. Then I take the croissants from her arm and add them as well. “C’mon, let’s go.”
She follows alongside me as we go to check out, and I silence her protests with a raise of my eyebrows when I place her two items on the belt along with my own.
A few minutes later, we’re leaving the store. My arms are loaded down with bags, but as soon as we step outside, Sage gestures to me with grabby hands.
“I need the croissants, please.”
Moving over to a bench off to the side of the store’s entrance, I set down the bags and pull out the bakery box. Sage sits down and rips open the box, before pulling out a croissant and taking a large bite. Her eyes flutter shut, and I see her shoulders drop.
I watch, confused—and a little turned on—as she chews with a smile on her face, and swallows before opening her eyes again.
“Apple now.”
Wordlessly, I hand her one, and she takes a massive bite. After the third time of her going back and forth between croissant and apple, she finally stops and looks at me.
“Sorry.”
My lips tip up in a small grin as I lift my thumb and swipe away a croissant crumb stuck to the corner of her mouth. “For what? Being hungry and adorable?”
She chokes out a laugh, and my smile grows wider.
“Did you know croissants aren’t actually from the French? They were originally made in Austria, and Marie Antoinette brought them to France.”
“Yeah, well, there are over 7,500 different types of apples,” Sage fires back. Then she turns her head, dipping it down to stare at the snack she’s clutching in her lap.
After a minute of silence, I whisper, “I can’t believe you’re really here. What are the chances?”
“Trust me, I can’t believe it, either. I should be in England right now,” she finally says in reply.
I stare at her in stunned silence, my brain struggling to process the words she just said. England?
I knew she wasn’t staying in Manitoba, but I didn’t realize she was leaving the country. Suddenly, the fact that she’s here next to me feels like an even bigger gift from fate than I first thought.
“Instead, I came to stay with a friend.” Her tongue darts out to lick her lips, then she takes another small nibble of the croissant, speaking again once she’s swallowed.
“I wanted to try and find you but couldn’t think how.
Then my friend and I went out for breakfast, and there you were.
Right in front of me, in a photo in the newspaper about a baseball team. ”
I’m getting a little confused, mostly about why she wanted to find me. Something tells me there’s a part of this story I’m missing.
But Sage keeps on talking. “I had this big plan of coming to the stadium to try and get a message to you, but then I started to feel nauseous and had to stop at the store for a snack and…” She trails off.
“And you ran into me,” I finish for her.
“I know. Trust me, I was just as shocked as you are right now. Did you know the chance of getting pregnant when you’re using a condom and you have an IUD is less than one percent? It’s basically impossible, and yet, here we are.”
I blink. “Wait. What?”