Chapter 29
Knox
“Ican’t stop looking at him.” Maverick’s voice is dreamy in a way I’ve never heard it—not even when we were growing up and he was mooning over Dove all the time and driving me crazy. “He’s so tiny, yet he’s utterly perfect.”
“Is he going to play hockey, football, or golf?” I throw in that last option for fun.
Aunt Dylan tried so hard to get Mav to play the “safe game” of golf. Instead he went with hockey.
“He can play whatever the hell he wants.” Mav laughs with me. “Or not at all. He can be like Sage and ride horses all the time.”
“I wonder if Uncle Zane would’ve still played football if things had been different.” After my grandparents died, all the boys went into pro sports.
As the sons of football legend Art Bradford, it was their ticket to college and the best path to lucrative careers. Still, Uncle Zane was more interested in books and horses growing up.
“Unanswerable questions,” Mav says. “So what’s on your mind? Besides Merry Christmas?”
“Yeah, I play on Christmas, but I’m done in February. Nice try, hockey boy.” I’m always giving him shit about his neverending hockey schedule.
“All right, cut the shit. What’s going on?”
He knows me so well. “Remember that so-called reporter Susan Jackson?”
“The one who wanted to do the small town hero turned hockey star profile on me that actually turned out to be her trolling for all the fucking gossip on the team that she turned into an embarrassing exposé?”
“Great answer. She’s one and the same.”
“Vaguely.”
That makes me laugh, and I know he’s going to love this. “She’s also the one who dragged Jada Allen out of Arkansas and pissed her off enough that she filed a court order to take Cricket away from me.”
“Wait, Susan Jackson was behind you losing your daughter?” His voice rises, but I can tell he’s trying not to wake the baby.
Trust me, I know the drill.
“Yep. She started the whole chain of events.” I quickly fill him in on the stunt they pulled with Jada and Melody, how they found the picture and went off from there. “I want to put these assholes out of business. You in?”
Mav inhales slowly. “I don’t know, bro. I hate to say it, but there’s a real market for that kind of shit. I guess people think we’re famous, so we don’t have feelings or we can take it.”
My jaw grinds, and I stand out of my chair, pacing as I think about what he’s saying. Cricket is on the floor crawling all over the place, and she’s just the cutest damn thing. We really poured it on at Christmas.
They went with me to Seattle, and we got her a giant stuffed orca, a space-needle chew toy, in addition to all the other Christmas gifts. Uncle Garrett sent her turtles from the restaurant, and Mom has her completely stocked with all the Saints fan gear she’ll need through kindergarten.
We’re back at home, heading into Wildcard Weekend, and Melody has Cricket’s hair styled in these teeny tiny little pom-poms on each side of her head. She’s dressed in a little black and gold onesie with a giant fleur de lis on the front.
Just thinking of the jerks who almost made me lose her and who tried to hurt Melody in front of the whole world has my blood boiling.
“Okay, so maybe we can’t put them out of business, but I want to return the favor. In a way they can feel.”
“We’ll meet them after one of the games, in a dark alley with a giant dumpster, and stuff them in it.”
“I mean, I like that a lot, but no.” I shove a hand in my pocket, brainstorming. “You think they’re sleeping together?”
“Nah, I think Chet swings the other way.”
“Shit.” I take a seat on the couch, and Cricket crawls straight to me, reaching her chubby little hands to my knees and pulling herself to standing. “Look at you!”
Her little eyes widen, and she pumps her knees, doing a little dance as she says, “Da-da-da!”
“Yep, I’m your dada!” I love it, even if I do miss the old Ba-ba days. “Every time I think about those bastards, I see red. Add in what they did to you, and we’ve got to do something.”
“Yeah, but you’re talking about changing the culture, and that’s not going to happen for a long time. We can start the ball rolling, but people have to want to change.”
“I’m not talking about philosophy. I want to gotcha them good and hard, right in the butt. There’s got to be something we can do.”
“We can try.” He exhales slowly. “Let’s put out some feelers and see what comes back. Between the two of us, we have enough friends in the business. I’m sure they’ve encountered these two.”
“Let’s do it.” I lean forward, patting Cricket’s little back. “But hey, I don’t want Melody to know. She won’t like it.”
And it’s better to ask forgiveness than permission.
“I’ll text you. We got this.”
We disconnect, and I lift my baby into my arms as I stand. “Hey, baby girl. You know I love you?”
She puts both her little hands on my face and proceeds to gnaw on my nose. I can’t help a laugh. It took a minute to figure this baby thing out, but now that I have, I’m really feeling it.
“I am seriously going to have to update my birth control.” Melody’s voice greets us from the foyer as she breezes into my apartment. I smile, watching as she strips off her long coat and tosses her purse on the table. “I’m pretty sure watching you two made me ovulate.”
“I’m okay with that, if you are.” My lips curl into a smile, but she shakes her head.
“I’m not doing everything backwards. You have to put a ring on it before you get me barefoot and pregnant.”
“Don’t tempt me with a good time.” I walk over to where she’s walking around, fussing like a little wet hen. “I plan on giving you everything you want… including my babies.”
She stops, crossing her arms and squinting up at me. But it doesn’t work. Her face breaks into a laugh, and she presses her head against my chest with a comical groan.
“What am I going to do with you, Knox Bradford?”
“Sounds like you’re going to marry me and have all my babies.”
“I have an idea.” She reaches up and takes Cricket from my arms.
I reluctantly pass my daughter over to her and only because Cricket is reaching for her as well. “Let’s hear it.”
“What if you and I do a post-game show together. Sort of like NFL Final, but hyper-focused on the Saints, on what y’all are doing, and on you in particular?”
She bounces in place as she makes her pitch, patting Cricket’s little back, and I confess, it’s an effective promo. In large part, because my daughter is adorable patting Melody’s head and squealing like she’s talking with her, and Melody is just sexy AF in her FU, Chet-n-Sue tee.
It was one of my many Christmas gifts to her.
“I like it,” I say, grinning down at both of them. “When do we start?”
“That’s the best part!” Melody walks around the living room, bending her knees and doing a bouncy walk while Cricket pats her head. “We’re freelance, so we can start it as soon as we’re ready.”
“After the Pats game? We’ll be right here in the Dome.”
“Let’s wait to see who wins this weekend. I’ll post a ‘Game Talk, feat. K-Brad coming soon’ card on social media, and I bet we’ll break the internet!”
Walking over to her, I pull her into my arms, gazing down at her pretty face. “You’re really good at this, you know?”
She shrugs. “I learned from the best.”
“Right. Your dad…” I think about Uncle Craig’s comment from the bar. “Speaking of, has he always been straight? I mean, no judgment. I just don’t want to say something stupid if he’s bisexual or something. Not that I care. I don’t…”
“Why would you ask that?”
Her tone changes so fast, my oh shit trigger is activated. I try to back-pedal, but the problem is I’ve never been very good at un-chewing my foot.
All I can manage is, “I… uh… I…”
“You saw it?” She blinks rapidly, and I don’t know what’s happening right now.
“No?” I hold out a hand, wanting to catch her in case she tries to bolt, which it seriously feels like she’s about to do.
“Then why would you ask me that?”
“My uncle Craig said your dad was… oh, shit. He said…” I peck my fingers on my forehead trying to remember his exact words. “Actually, he didn’t say anything, but there was definitely a vibe.”
“I can’t…” Melody shakes her head. “I can’t speak to this, but just know it’s not what it appears to be.”
My brow furrows, and I tilt my head. “Okay?”
She leans closer, rising on her tiptoes as she clutches my baby girl. “Trust me. Let it go.”
Her lips are lifted, so I lean down to cover them with mine. Then she bounces back, still holding Cricket.
Talk about wildcards.
* * *
We made it through the Wildcard game, and next we’re facing off against the Bears. These guys are brutes. They’re big and tough, and they don’t hold back.
Of all the teams, I imagine they’re the most like a hockey match. Their defensive line hits hard, and they don’t stop coming. It’s going to take all we’ve got to come out on top. The Bears are number two in the league behind us.
“Here’s my thought.” Melody is in my box in the Dome in a black puffer coat with a big gold fleur de lis on the breast area.
“Play your ass off, and I’ll take notes from here.
After y’all win, for the post-game, I can lead off with what I saw, and you can make commentary from the point of view of being on the field. Doesn’t that sound fun?”
I huff a laugh, shaking my head. “It sounds like you deserve a job in marketing.”
Her smile widens, and her nose wrinkles. “I’m not trying to get in your head. Forget about all of that and get out there and beat the Bears!”
“You’re only in my head in the best way.” I lean down to kiss her nose when a squeal interrupts us.
Cricket stands in front of a chair in her little Saint’s dress-onesie and gold space buns. Her hands are on the seat of the chair and she bounces her legs.
“Da-da-da!” she squeals, and I hustle over to her, lifting her over my head and shaking her side to side to make her laugh.
Her squeals turn into belly laughs that morph into baby chuckles. It’s the cutest thing ever.