Stealing Home (Callahan Family Book 2)

by Carrie Aarons

  “This says he’s in Miami,” I croak, holding up my phone to show my sister.

  “You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Dahlia snatches it, scrolling through the pictures herself. “These girls look like they’re barely eighteen. And he missed a visit to go frolicking with them! Without even telling you, or explaining to the girls he wouldn’t be around?”

  A sickening sense travels down my spine, because I know she’s right. “He went on vacation, when I’m here trying to provide for these girls. First, he takes away their financial security, and then withholds his love.”

  My temper is getting the best of me, but I can’t help it. I’ve been quiet through this process, to the point of appearing weak. To both strangers, and those that know me.

  Someday, the girls will get wind of this. That’s what hurt the most. Of course, I wanted them all to myself, of course, Shane missing a scheduled court visit will reflect poorly on him which bodes well for me. But I never want my daughters in harm’s way. I never want them to know that their own father gave up time with them to live out a midlife crisis. I never want them to know any of the ugly details of our marriage.

  “After seeing this, fuck his threats about Walker. You should gallivant that shit all over the place. Dry hump your boyfriend in the middle of Central Street.” Dahlia is getting fired up.

  “Does that sound like me?” I snort, because she’s being ridiculous even if she’s trying to console me. “I’m not the one to dry hump in public.”

  My pointed eyebrow goes straight to her, and she shrugs innocently. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She and Clark were awfully cozy during our winter getaway, but my sister is remaining tight-lipped about what actually went down. I am curious to know if it’s because the fling is over, or because she kind of likes him, which would be rare for her.

  “Nothing.” I shake my head, deciding not to get off topic. “Even if he’s running around with college co-eds, it doesn’t mean I get to do the same. I have everything to lose, and he knows it. It’s why he’s being so reckless, he thinks he can fall back on his athlete status and money.”

  “I really hate him. Like so much that I’d like to punch him in the junk and shove him in a pile of cow manure. Why don’t men like Shane ever get their karma?”

  Sometimes, I wonder the same thing. But hopefully, after all I’ve struggled through, his karma is about to pay up. Big time.

  24

  Walker

  Light on the heels, quick push from the toes.

  I focus on my breathing, channeling the icy air through my lungs. I’m typically not a runner, or at least not in the winter months, where I reserve my cardio time for the gym or lap pool down at the stadium facilities. But today, I felt like getting out on the road, and really feeling the burn of my muscles.

  My pace has been punishing; six eight-minute miles. But the time seems to go quickly, which I’m thankful for. Baseball is just a month away, with spring training and pre-season workouts looming on the horizon. I always keep myself in shape, but the next few weeks will call for more intense muscle and cardio toning, with a lot of drills and batting cage time. I’m still in my prime, it doesn’t feel like an effort to play like some of the older vets have recounted to me. But I know that soon enough, age will come knocking at my door, too.

  I’m sweaty and spent by the time I get home, hopping into my steaming hot shower that boasts four shower heads on various parts of the wall. I built this thing purely out of luxury, and it’s probably one of my favorite features of my home.

  While I’m ready to get back out onto the field, I’m also going to miss nights like tonight, when I can pick up Hannah and her daughters and take them to the drive-in.

  Hannah called me, somewhat emotionally, after the girls had gone to bed one night last week. She recounted the whole Shane incident, that he’d missed his visitation with the girls that day, and I’d been pissed. Still am, whenever I think about it. The guy is a grade A asshole, but his kids shouldn’t have to get the brunt of that.

  I think that set her off more than she knows, because she agreed to a public date with her children tagging along. It’s a risk, but I’m not sure Hannah cares about Shane’s threats when it comes to me anymore. After seeing his gallivanting in Miami, I think she wants to shove it in his face a little. Part of me wants to protect her for her own sake and keep our relationship private.

  But tonight is Frozen night at the drive-in, and I know it’s one of Noelle’s favorites. I want to do something nice for Hannah and show her that I can step up when it comes to being in a relationship with a woman who is also a mother. Sometimes, I think that she keeps me at arm’s length because she doesn’t just bring herself into what’s happening between us, but that the girls could get involved at some point, too. Plus, I think it will just be a really fun thing to do.

  My truck is full of supplies as I swing into Hannah’s condo association, and they come out to get in the car.

  “Who is ready for some Arendelle?” I say excitedly, getting out to help Hannah put the girls’ car seats in the back.

  As we strap them in, Noelle is chatting nonstop about the movie, and how Sven, the reindeer, is the most hilarious animal on earth. Breanna is also trying to jump into the conversation, though her toddler babble is a bit harder to suss out.

  We pull into the line for the drive-in about twenty minutes later, and I present the teenage kid working the entrance with the tickets I pre-ordered online.

  “Please drive to your designated spot, sir,” he tells me in his bored, pubescent voice.

  “This was so nice of you. You didn’t have to do this for them.” Hannah smiles at me as the girls marvel over the decorations the drive-in theater has set up.

  The enormous projector screen is framed with turquoise and purple streamers, with piles of fake snow on the stage below. There is a fake Olaf and Sven set up on either side of the screen, and each parking spot is marked with a large snowflake on the ground.

  “I know I’m not just seeing you, Hannah. Your girls are your world. I want to be a part of that, too. I’m not shy in telling you that I want every part of you, especially the part where you’re this fantastic, strong mother.”

  I swear she’s blushing, and I would stretch over to kiss her on the cheek, but the girls haven’t seen us like that yet. It’s still too early, so I have to bite my tongue to fight the urge to touch her.

  “All right girls, you get one present each,” I say, pulling out the two gifts I wrapped.

  “Those are … interesting.” Hannah giggles at my wrap job, which, I admit, is terrible.

  “I’m a bachelor, not Martha Stewart.” I grin.

  Not that the girls care, they rip them open so fast that my terrible wrapping paper is shredded on the back seat floor.

  “Gloves! Just like Elsa, Mommy!” Noelle screeches as she stares at the box she’s just unwrapped.

  “Say thank you to Walker,” Hannah reminds her daughter, while sending me an appreciative and impressed smile.

  “Thank you, Walker!” The little girl makes a motion like she wants to jump up and hug me, but she’s in her car seat.

  Breanna is having a bit of a harder time, so we unbuckle from the front seat and go back there to get them out and help. Once she gets it open, she sees the sparkly, light-up tiara and her toddler squeals are the best sound on earth.

  “You picked those out yourself?” Hannah looks like I just hung the moon, and I feel my chest burst with pride.

  “Went to the Disney store and all. I forgot how much I feel like a kid there. It was one of the only places my mom would let us venture in the mall, aside from her favorite department stores. Have they ever been to Disney?”

  The girls put on their presents as I set up the back of the pickup where we plan to watch the movie.

  Hannah nods. “Yeah, about two years ago. Breanna doesn’t even remember it she was so little, and Noelle would probably keel over if she saw Elsa in person now and could
get an autograph.”

  “Maybe we’ll have to take them again,” I suggest, pushing the boundaries I know are in place but not caring.

  And instead of fighting me, or talking about something heavy that would prevent us from going on vacation, she just agrees. “Maybe we will.”

  The bed of my pickup is lined with comforters, sheepskin blankets, and two mini-heaters I bought at a camping store. I’ve packed the back near the rearview window with pillows, and we all pack in. Overall, it isn’t that cold, and the snacks are distracting the girls from any chills they might be getting. I’ve purchased the whole enchilada that the drive-in is hocking: a snack package that includes two huge buckets of popcorn, a big bag of Twizzlers, a box of Junior Mints and two large fountain sodas. It’s enough to rot all our teeth out, but this is the movie experience that they deserve.

  Frozen’s opening credits begin to roll, and the girls are wedged between Hannah and me as we lean against the pillows in the back of the truck. About five minutes in, I feel her staring at the side of my face, so I turn my chin in her direction.

  The look I’m hit with, one of absolute raw emotion on that gorgeous face, paralyzes me. In Hannah’s expression, I see every ounce of love, adoration, and appreciation I’ve always wished she’d regard me with. We stay like that, our eyes locked, for what feels like a very long time.

  And when Noelle finally breaks our connection, with an excited squeal that Princess Elsa is finally on-screen, I rest my arm on the back of the truck, over the girls head. My fingers twist in Hannah’s midnight curls and stay there for the duration of the movie.

  The girls are asleep in their car seats before we even leave the parking lot of the drive-in, and our ride through Packton is quiet and serene. Hannah and I hold hands across the center console, and I keep thinking that this night couldn’t get more perfect.

  When we arrive back at her condo, I help her carry them upstairs and tuck them into bed. I feel like a real part of this puzzle, almost as if I could be the one caring for them all the time. It both terrifies and excites me, just how right this role feels if I were to slide into it.

  Dahlia doesn’t seem to be home, and I’m about to walk to the door, expecting Hannah to kiss me farewell. Instead, she surprises us both.

  “Do you want to … stay?” She flutters her long, thick eyelashes down toward the floorboards, as if she’s nervous about asking.

  I haven’t been asked to stay in her bed in the months we’ve been together, and I’m kind of shocked that tonight is the exception.

  Taking two fingers, I tip her chin up so that she looks me in the eye. “I want nothing more. But are you okay with that? Don’t make reactionary decisions that might hurt you or the girls in the long run. I’m okay with where we’re at.”

  Hannah searches my expression for something and seems to find it, because she speaks.

  “Walker, the way you treat us all … I couldn’t ask for a better man in my life or theirs. I want you to be a part of our world, a real part. That means getting the girls used to having you around. I’m done running scared, I’m done bending to the will of someone who has controlled me for so long. I want you to stay, so you’re staying.”

  Without missing a beat, I capture her lips for a few moments. “Of course I’m staying.”

  I was wrong. This night could get more perfect. It just did.

  25

  Hannah

  My eyes try to blink the sleep out of themselves, but the right one is smushed into something solid.

  I pause, realizing that for the first time in what feels like forever, I slept through the entire night. Then, it dawns on me.

  It’s because Walker has me tangled up in his limbs, with the right side of my face pressed to his very nicely sculpted pecs. He’s warm and lean, and I snuggle closer, hoping that the clock doesn’t read a time that is close to when the girls will wake up. I want to relish this a bit, especially since there is a gorgeous man still snoozing next to me.

  When I asked Walker to stay last night, I think I surprised us both. But what I said is true; I don’t want to run from this anymore. I’m done with people controlling me, and like Ginny said, I need to feel the salt in my wounds and press on, regardless.

  So I took my fate into my own hands and invited him to spend the night in my bed.

  There has never been a discussion about what we are, we’re two grown adults and don’t need to talk about monogamy or exclusivity. I know that Walker knows I wouldn’t stand for him seeing other women from the moment he first kissed me. He respects that I have more going on in my life than the average person and doesn’t burden me with clingy conversations or labels. We’re a couple, he is my person.

  But it seems like I may be venturing into territory where I’ll have to make my intentions known. Where we will have to discuss where this is going.

  Because I’m falling in love with him. Well, I’m pretty sure, as I watch him through lidded eyes breathe peacefully beside me in bed, I’m already in love with him.

  I nuzzle my nose into him, because, lord, he just smells so good, and Walker stirs.

  “Sorry,” I whisper, not really feeling guilty that I woke him.

  “Sex again, woman?” That deep, sleepy chuckle hits me square between the thighs.

  We made love twice last night, in the dead quiet of the house as to not wake the girls. It was almost hotter that way, not being able to say anything at all.

  “Just enjoying the view.” I press a kiss to his chest.

  “I’m enjoying it all.” Walker squeezes my bare butt, and I feel scandalous that I didn’t even bother to put underwear or pajamas on before I fell asleep.

  “Are you?” I ask, my question coming out more serious than flirty.

  His eyes are still closed, but I think he hears my inflection. “What do you mean?”

  It’s way too early to psychoanalyze, but suddenly, I can’t turn my brain off. The rays of morning dawn aren’t even seeping through the blinds yet, but I make myself talk. I’ve spent years keeping my thoughts and opinions to myself, and I won’t get into another relationship where I feel I can’t express them.

  “We always talk about what I want, what I need. I never truly asked you. Is this what you want? It’s just … I come with a lot of baggage. My girls. A divorce. It’s a lot to handle, and I’d understand if it was too much to commit to.”

  Walker presses a finger to my lips, his digit warm from the tangle of sheets. “Except I don’t see it as baggage. It’s your history, just like I have mine. We all have issues, babe. Shit, I’m a Callahan. That comes with way more pressure and responsibility than I ever wanted. Just this week, my father has started up with his ‘you’ll become the owner someday’ bullshit. I know what I want, and what I don’t want. I don’t want to wear a suit or talk budgets. I do want to spend each morning in bed with you and then walk downstairs and have those little girls boss me around. Don’t think you’re making decisions for me, or trapping me. I’m here because I want to be.”

  My eyes fall closed on a sigh. It’s the first time he’s called me babe, and the endearment makes my heart flutter.

  “Thank you, for saying that. You have no idea how much relief that brings me. What did your father say?”

  Walker has alluded to the pressure from his family to stay on with the Pistons after he retires from playing, but this is the first time I’ve heard him really shoot down the prospect.

  “Same old bullshit.” He rolls over to his side, so that we’re facing each other. “He expects me to take his seat someday. Which is the furthest thing from what I want.”

  “What do you want?” I ask, curious as to what comes next and how it could affect us.

  “I have a lot of years left to play, hopefully, if my body cooperates. I’ve never thought too much into the future past that. I never thought I had to. I knew I wanted to be a professional baseball player from the time I was in the peewee league. And then I accomplished it. It never occurred to me that I had to have so
me other dream, but the more my father presses the issue, the more I realize I have to figure it out before I’m slotted into that role without my consent.”

  “Sometimes, I dream about where I could go. If there were no other extenuating circumstances, or money was no object, or the social world and its standards didn’t exist … what would I do?” I tell him, because I would often daydream like this to take me out of the hell that was my marriage.

  “And where would that be?” Walker runs a hand up and down my arm.

  “Hawaii, for starters. I’d rent some little shack on the beach and laze in the ocean all day long, or read books on the sand until I was as red as lobster.”

  “That sounds perfect, when do we leave?” He buries his head in my neck.

  “Where would you go? What would you do?” I ask, wanting him to play the game.

  “Anywhere with you sounds nice.” I feel his smile against my skin.

  “I’m serious.” I rub the back of his neck.

  Walker seems to take a moment. “I guess I don’t really know. I’ve always just wanted to play baseball, and I love living in Packton. I never thought much about life after that. I just know I don’t want to be the owner of the Pistons.”

  “I guess that’s something we should figure out together, then,” I tell him, and mean it. Breanna squawks for me on her monitor. “But for now, back to the real world.”

  “You have to be in mediation today?” Walker asks.

  I nod, taking one last precious second to breathe him in. “We’re talking about more assets today. Lord help me.”

  I show up for mediation fifteen minutes early, arranging my water bottle and notebook on the table as Karla, my divorce attorney, situates her papers on the table.