Chapter 30
SAGE
“Is this where all the WAGs sit, or are we just special because you’re carrying the next generation of Thunder players?” Fiona says loudly as we take our seats in the fifth row, partway down the first-base line.
“Keep your voice down,” I say, glancing around to see if anyone is staring. “I don’t know if he wants this to be public knowledge or not.”
Once she’s in her seat, Fiona turns and stares at me. “Are you serious? It’s not like you can hide all that,” she says, waving at my giant belly. I grimace, shifting to try and get comfortable.
“I know, I know. But I’m not sure I’d want to be with the WAGs, if that even is a thing here, which I don’t think it is. From what Brady says, most of the guys are single.”
Fiona’s face perks up in interest. “Really? You’re just telling me this now? Some best friend you are.”
“You’re the one who admitted you only like to look at men, not actually date them.”
She shrugs. “Fair enough. Still, you’re not exactly subtle making goo-goo eyes at him during warm-up.”
“I am not making goo-goo eyes,” I protest, but it falls flat when Brady comes jogging out with his teammates for the national anthem, and my breath catches.
“Mm-hmm, you were saying?” Fiona nudges me with her shoulder and gives me a knowing smirk.
We stand up, my hands immediately going to my belly. “Shut up,” I mutter back.
I see Brady scanning the crowd, and his face breaks into a wide grin when he sees me. I want so badly to lift my hand in a wave, but just then, the singer starts, and his focus snaps to attention.
Several minutes later, the fans are all sitting down as the players take their positions.
Brady had warned me he wouldn’t be pitching until later in the game, so instead, we watch him jog down the side of the field toward the bullpen at the back.
He winks as he passes our section, and then I’m unashamedly staring at his ass, covered in tight, crisp white baseball pants.
Two high-pitched voices drift down from behind us, sounding more than a little tipsy.
“Did you see that? He winked. I wonder if we can get down to meet them after the game, these baseball boys are so hot.”
“Girl, you pull that shirt down and I’m betting you’ll be invited into the freaking locker room.”
The women in the row back from our seats burst into high-pitched giggles as Fiona’s hand grips my thigh tightly in silent support.
It’s not like I’m shocked to hear another woman make a comment related to how attractive the players are. But hearing her try to claim that Brady’s wink might have been directed at her has something mean and jealous stirring inside of me.
She’s not the one carrying his child.
That wink was mine.
“It’s not worth it.” Fiona leans in close to murmur in my ear.
I give her a brusque nod and take a deep breath in and out. She’s right, I know.
The game starts, but my attention isn’t on the field. It’s on the man who’s currently out of sight, throwing practice pitches in the bullpen before he takes the mound.
The man I’m starting to see a future with. The man I’m realizing I actually want stability, and commitment, and a loving, full life with.
I don’t know what to do with these feelings, these new desires that are so at odds with who I thought I was and the life I thought I was happy living. I’m still terrified of having it all and then losing it somehow. But that fear is no longer strong enough to keep me away from Brady.
I’m not sure anything would be.
Partway through the game, Fiona goes to get some snacks.
While she’s gone, I take the opportunity to stand up and stretch a little, needing to move.
The baby is getting big enough now that I’m almost always uncomfortable in some way or another.
At times, I feel like a rotisserie chicken, constantly needing to rotate and change positions to move the discomfort around.
When I told Brady that, he didn’t stop laughing for a long time. And the next day, he brought home a damn rotisserie chicken for dinner.
“Hey, Sage!”
I turn at the sound of my name to see Cal waving at me from the other side of the netting that protects the viewers from any rogue balls.
Making my way down the few steps to reach him, I try not to think about any of the not-so-good reasons a Thunder player would be wanting to talk to me. But it’s impossible not to worry at least a little bit.
“What’s up?” I say when I finally get to the front row.
“Hopefully Dixie doesn’t kill me for taking so long, but I couldn’t get out to tell you until now. He wants you and Fiona to wait here when the game’s over so he can see you.”
“Oh.” My breath escapes in a whoosh. “That’s all? Okay, yeah. That’s fine.”
Cal frowns for a second before understanding dawns. “Shit, did you think something was wrong? Damn, now he really will kill me. Sorry.” He gives me an apologetic grin.
I wave it off. “No, don’t apologize. It’s my stupid hormones making me a little crazy. Although, you have to admit, it’s not exactly common for a player to yell five rows up at a random fan.”
“You’re not a random fan, Sage.” He chuckles. “But I hear you. I better go. See ya later.”
He jogs back over to the dugout as I make my way to my seat. Just before I reach row five, I chance a quick look at the women who made the earlier comment about Brady. Their heads are close as they talk furiously, I assume about me talking to Cal.
My suspicions are proven correct as soon as they spy me looking and pull apart. I move into my seat and sit down, smirking to myself. Then a finger with a long pink fingernail on the end taps my shoulder.
“Excuse me, but like, are you and Cal Prescott related?”
I twist in my seat. “Not at all. Why would you think that?”
She shrugs and gives me a cool smile. “You kinda look alike, and he just talked to you.”
I nod slowly. Cal and I look nothing alike. “Right. So that means we’re related?” I rub my stomach. “What if I’m carrying his baby instead?”
The woman scoffs, turning to her friend and rolling her eyes. “Yeah, right. Cal would never. My friend Courtney dated him for a while and he was adamant about never having kids. Nice try.”
I give her a neutral smile of my own. “Well, you got me. It’s not his baby. Cal and I are just friends.” I turn back to face the field, and a few seconds later, Fiona slides into her seat.
“What did I miss?” she asks cheerfully, handing me a hot dog.
Lowering my voice, I tell her, “Apparently, Cal Prescott and I look enough alike that we could be related.”
She chokes on her drink, and I break into giggles that I don’t even bother trying to contain.
“I’ll explain later.”
Another inning passes with the game now tied, and then Brady’s jogging out from the bullpen to trade off with Foxxy, who heads for the dugout.
“That’s your daddy,” I whisper under my breath, rubbing my belly. He doesn’t look our way, but that’s fine. I would never want to steal his focus away from the game.
When he strikes out the first batter with just three pitches, I stand up and clap and cheer with the rest of the hometown crowd. That’s when he glances our way and grins, giving me a quick nod of acknowledgment.
The rest of the game passes quickly. Brady doesn’t let a single opponent get a run in, striking out player after player. And with Cal scoring a run in the ninth inning, the Thunder take the win.
Fiona and I stay in our seats once the game ends, letting everyone leave before we even bother trying to get down to the field. But once the crowd thins out, I see the two women from behind us standing at the low wall, laughing at someone on the other side of the netting.
“Are you freaking kidding me?” I mutter, my mood instantly souring when I realize it’s Brady, my Brady, they’re talking to. These women might not know what he means to me, but they’re about to find out.
I stomp down the stairs, Fiona fast on my heels, my gaze locked in on Brady. That’s how I see the second he realizes I’m close. The closed off, awkward expression on his face melts into a real smile as his eyes light up.
“Excuse me, but I gotta go see my girl. Thanks for coming to the game.”
I reach the bottom just in time to hear his dismissal of them—and his claiming of me—as he moves to the side and unlocks the gate.
He steps through, completely ignoring the other women, and walks right up to me, cupping my face in his hands and kissing me softly. “Hey, little mama. How are you doing?”
Any sort of snarky comment I was going to make to the other women is immediately forgotten about as I melt into his arms.
“I’m fine. Good job winning,” I say, smiling up at him just before he leans down and kisses my forehead.
“What were you saying about not going fully public?” Fiona says dryly from behind me. I turn in Brady’s arms to face her, the other women long gone now.
“I said I didn’t know how Brady felt about it. Now I do.”
I feel his chuckle vibrate through my back. “I’d put it up on the big screen if I thought I could.” His lips press against my hair. “I’m not keeping you a secret, Hurricane.”
“Did you tell those women that?” I ask pertly, starting to turn around, only to have him stop me.
“What women? No. That doesn’t matter. Wait. Why the hell are you still wearing that jersey?”
I push at his hold and turn fully to face him. “What do you mean? This is the one you gave me.”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t have my name on it. Shit. Did I forget to…yeah. I did.” He grimaces. “Sorry, Sage. I have a new one for you back at home.” His cheeks darken. “If you’re okay with wearing my name, I guess.”
“Brady,” I murmur, reaching up to cup the back of his neck, tugging him down for another kiss. “I would be honoured.”
“Yeah?” He dips his head to the side, bringing his lips to my ear. “You know what it means when you start wearing my jersey?”
“What?” I say quietly back, feeling a shiver work up my spine.
“It means you’re mine.”
I suck in a breath, that shiver settling low in my core. “Does that mean you’re mine?”
“I already am, Hurricane.”