Changing Her Plans (Santa Fe Bobcats)

by Jeanette Murray

  When she said nothing more and didn’t remove her hand from his back, he realized she was waiting for more of a reaction. He fought back the rising temper at himself and forced a smile.

  “Sounds like we’re skipping bedding today. What else do we need?”

  She watched him for a moment, and he could almost see the wheels turning. But she let him have his moment and nodded. “Dishes. He needs more sippy cups and some more training utensils. Softer on the gums if he misses his mouth,” she explained when he gave her a look that clearly asked What the fuck are training utensils?

  “Good to know.” He pushed the cart blindly behind her, regretting so much.

  “I can’t believe that poor man, being hit with so much all at once.” Tilly fluttered her lashes at Kristen as the baseball team practiced on. “To be saddled with a child right after the loss of a family member. It’s terrible.”

  “Uh, I don’t think he would ever call it being ‘saddled’ with,” Kristen put in quickly, wanting to cut that shit off at the knees. No way would she allow Tilly to make it sound like he was a martyr for taking in his nephew. Clay would cut his own arm off for that boy.

  “And with nobody to lean on,” the younger woman went on, as if she hadn’t heard a word Kristen said.

  “I don’t think he’s completely devoid of someone to lean on,” Sienna said dryly. “It’s not like he doesn’t have an entire team to go to for help. Or friends,” she added under her breath, nudging at Kristen’s knee below the other women’s eye lines.

  “Stop,” Kristen hissed, nudging her back.

  “Ladies?” Mindy glared at them both as if they were naughty school children being caught passing notes. “We need to refocus, please. As Coach Barnes is no longer available to coach in an official capacity. As it’s nearly time for travel anyway, I make a motion—”

  “I bet you do,” Sienna mumbled under her breath.

  “—that we nix the secondary coaching position and simply have our husbands fill in when necessary for base coaching and other sundry tasks.”

  “Second!” Tilly squealed, shooting her hand up so fast her fake breasts nearly moved for once.

  “Oh. My. God,” Kristen mouthed to Sienna, who hid a laugh behind her hand.

  “All those in favor, say aye.” There was a chorus of ayes, and Kristen didn’t bother to vote. There was no point. Whatever Mindy suggested, the team mostly went along with anyway. Plus it wasn’t as if she had a husband to sacrifice to the altar of the travel team gods.

  The women broke apart soon after, some staying in the bleachers and some taking off early. Sienna and Kristen walked down to a pair of lawn chairs they had set up before the impromptu meeting had begun. Flopping down, Kristen shielded her eyes to find Isaac on the field, then settled in to watch her son play.

  “You look wrecked.”

  “I feel it.” Kristen grimaced. “Not that I want this spread around...”

  Sienna crossed her heart in silent agreement.

  “I helped Clay overnight. He’s just not fully up on the whole ‘having a kid’ bit. He was drowning.”

  “Of course he was,” Sienna said, sympathy rich in her voice. “He seems like such a good guy, but a baby dropped on him with no warning, with no help...it’s good you stayed with him.”

  “I got up twice in the night for the kid. Clay didn’t know. I didn’t want him to get up. He needed the rest. But man, it’s reminding me about those early years.” Kristen rubbed under her eyes and fought back a yawn. “I needed a nap, and I wasn’t able to get one. I’m hitting the hay early tonight.”

  “That one,” Sienna said, pointing out to the field, obviously indicating her son, “was a fantastic sleeper from the start. But my daughter, ugh. Colic up the ass. Couldn’t get her to sleep through the night for nearly two years. I was almost institutionalized from lack of sleep. Near thing.”

  “Aw,” Kristen said, smiling in memory. “Rough years. But oh, those moments, you know? The first smile.”

  “First word.”

  “First step.”

  “First stitches,” Sienna said, laughing. “Which coincided neatly with Nathan’s first step.”

  “Rough. Isaac...he was just such an easy kid all around. David and I got off easy with that one. I can already tell Stanley is going to give Clay some sleepless nights as the years go on.”

  “I wouldn’t give them up for anything,” Sienna said wistfully.

  “No, neither would I.” But the bone-deep exhaustion made Kristen realize she wasn’t wrong about not adding children to her life at this stage in the game. Pregnancy hadn’t agreed with her seventeen years ago and the hormone swings and the delivery recovery on top of sleep deprivation... She shuddered.

  God bless Clay for wanting it all. But she knew, in her heart, those days were long gone for her.

  She watched Isaac field a long fly ball, catch it with ease and wing it to the cutoff in the infield.

  So maybe there were a few regrets, that there weren’t more Isaacs in her future. But she had one, and that was an awesome thing.

  Kristen waited for Isaac to finish up talking with his friends after practice. When he caught sight of her, he jogged over. “Hey, Mom. How’s Coach?”

  “He’s doing the best he can.” She reached over and ruffled her son’s hair a bit. He didn’t pull away, which showed he understood her need to have the physical reassurance her own baby was still fine. “Do you mind if I help him out one more night?”

  “I could go to Dad’s for a while, if that would help.” He shrugged when her brows rose. “What? I know Coach needs you. He’s a good guy, but usually dads have, like, nine months to get ready for a baby. He just got thrown in the deep end.”

  “You’re an amazing kid, Isaac. How about you come over and eat dinner with us? I’m sure Clay—Coach Barnes—would like to hear how practice is going and about the upcoming tournament.”

  “Sure. I can play with that butterball Stanley too.” He grinned when she poked him in the stomach. “Hey, I can call a baby a butterball. It’s allowed.”

  “Yes, but still. Go home and shower, change, and meet me over there. I’ll have pizza waiting.”

  “You said the P-word. I’m in!” With another grin, so sweet and so precious, he took off for his car.

  “Teens are so easy,” Sienna said, waving as she walked by with Nathan toward her car.

  “It’s getting them to this point that’s the problem,” Kristen joked back.

  Chapter 17

  Clay stood in the hallway as he heard the garage door lower again, waiting anxiously. The second the door into the house opened, he thrust Stanley into Kristen’s arms. “Please, God, hold him for three minutes.”

  Then raced to the bathroom.

  When he came back out a few minutes later, Kristen was standing just outside the door, an amused smile on her face. “Problem?”

  “He didn’t feel like going to bed tonight.”

  Kristen raised her brows expectantly. “And?”

  “And I had to pee.”

  She stared at him.

  Clay gestured toward the door. “It doesn’t have a lock. I’ve never needed to lock the door before.”

  “I’m sorry, what does any of that have to do with this little guy here? Yes, you,” she cooed to Stanley, who burbled out a happy noise and patted her cheeks.

  Clay’s heart melted, watching the two of them interact. God, he missed his sister, with a sharp pain he could only pray would dull with time. But watching Kristen and Stanley interact so easily, like they’d known each other since before the kid was born...it went a long way toward making breathing an easier concept.

  And when she turned toward him, a smile on her face, happy flush to her cheeks, he fell in love all over again. Every time.

  “What?” she asked when he said nothing.

  “Uh, sorry. Right. The kid crawls, you know.”

  “I’m aware.”

  “And he screamed when I put him in his crib. He wasn’t r
eady for bed yet.”

  “Naturally.” She started heading for the kitchen, and he followed. “But what does that have to do with you sprinting for the bathroom?”

  “I tried to set him up with toys so I could go, but he kept following me.”

  She set her purse on the counter and took out a sippy from the drainer. “You gave him his last milk cup for the evening?”

  “Not yet.” With a baby on her hip, Kristen glided around the kitchen as if it were no big deal, effortlessly putting the cup of milk together without spilling a drop or putting the child down. “How do you do that?”

  “Do what? Here you go, sweetie.” She handed Stanley the cup, then set him in his high chair. The child kicked his pajama-clad feet in excitement and started to down the cup. She sprinkled a few Cheerios to keep him occupied while they talked.

  “Do everything one-handed, without dropping Stan.”

  “Practice. Now back to the bathroom debacle.”

  “He crawls. He follows. He watches. It’s creepy,” Clay added with a shudder. “The bathroom door pops open if you push hard enough. He pushes. He stares at me. And I feel weird going in front of him.”

  Kristen began laughing lightly as she got plates down. “That right there is what every stay-at-home mother I know complains about. I think some women go back to work after having children specifically so they can use the bathroom without being followed. And I have to warn you, it never stops.”

  “Uh, what?” Clay tried to picture a teenager following him to the bathroom and shuddered again. “That’s horrifying.”

  “Not necessarily that they physically go with you, but that your bathroom time will never again be sacred. They have radar. You need to go to the bathroom? Suddenly the kid will need to stand right outside the closed door and tell you their entire life story. If you’re in there, that’s the moment your teenager will call you on the phone or need to ask you the world’s most important question.”

  “You’re not making this whole kid-raising thing sound appealing.”

  “But it is.” She smiled and ran a hand over Stanley’s head, bowing to give him a quick peck on the crown. “It really is. I ordered a pizza on the way over. Should be here soon. And I invited Isaac for dinner. I hope that was okay.”

  Clay nodded and grabbed his wallet out of his back pocket, tossing a few twenties onto the counter. “Of course it is. I need to hear how practice went anyway.”

  Kristen sighed and rolled her eyes. “Naturally.”

  Just then her phone buzzed with a text. “It’s Isaac, he just pulled up. Can you let him in?”

  Clay nodded while Kristen went to set the kitchen table. Stanley seemed satisfied to sit in his high chair and watch her movement around the space, so he went to open the garage door for Isaac. The teen was just climbing out of his car when Clay walked out.

  “Hey,” the young man said, giving him a quick grin. He closed the door and walked over, hands in his pockets, face suddenly grim.

  And it occurred to Clay that the younger man had no clue how to address him. He’d been there the night before, along with Trey and Josh, but had mostly dealt with his mother. Meanwhile, Clay had been dazed, confused, and finally, asleep. Not the with-it coach he was used to.

  “Thanks for last night,” Clay said, holding out a hand. “I… I was in a rough spot. Not really ready to take care of practical stuff yet. I appreciate your wasting a summer night to come help me. It meant a lot.”

  Isaac shook, and his grip was firm. “Anytime. Seriously.” The kid swallowed hard. “I’m sorry about your sister. It sucks.”

  Yeah. It sucked. That was the most PG way Clay could think of saying it. “Yeah,” he said, throat quickly closing. To move things along, he pulled Isaac in and wrapped his arm around the teen’s neck, roughing his hair up a bit. “Let’s go see what kind of drinks we’ve got to go with pizza.”

  “I could use a beer,” Isaac said smoothly.

  “Oh, yeah. Sure,” Clay replied with a smile. “And your mom wouldn’t skin me alive. Two words, dude: hell no.”

  Isaac took that in stride, like he seemed to take a lot of things. The teen was golden, as far as Clay could see. From what Kristen had said, the boy had a decent father who was plugged in, hampered only by distance. He didn’t need another father figure. But a local male friend, whom he could go to for advice, maybe.

  “Tell you what though. When you turn twenty-one, you come to me and I’ll get you your first decent six-pack of beer. We’ll split it.”

  “Decent?” Isaac asked.

  “None of that room-temperature piss-in-a-pitcher they’ll serve in whatever dive bar your campus has to offer. The good stuff. The stuff that doesn’t fit in a college kid’s budget. Twenty-one, and we’ll split a pack of the best.”

  “Deal.” Isaac grinned, but it faded and he stopped walking just shy of the door into the house. “Is that your way of saying you and my mom are going to be together that long?”

  Smart kid. “I’ll be honest and tell you, I hope so. I damn well hope your mom and I are still together by that point.” It occurred to him then… “Uh, look. You’re old enough to know your mom and I are…”

  “Yeah.” Isaac smirked. “I’m old enough. I put that one together pretty fast. I’m not bothered by it, if that’s the problem.”

  “No, no.” Clay rubbed the back of his neck. “This isn’t the point where you expected me to ask your blessing or whatever, is it?”

  Isaac’s smirk morphed into a shit-eating grin. “I don’t know. Do I get to blackmail you out of something good? I might like an upgraded car for my senior year. A chick magnet, you know? Something with a big backseat.”

  Clay narrowed his eyes. “How about we skip the blessing and settle for me not telling your mom you just asked for a vehicle to score in and call it even?”

  Isaac flushed in the low garage lights. “Damn. Fine. So, you and Mom…”

  “Let’s leave it at, on your twenty-first, we’ve got a date, no matter what. I hope that means your mom is in the picture, but either way, you’re on.”

  Isaac nodded, then glanced back at the driveway as headlights cut over them. “Pizza’s here. You’re paying. Suck up to the kid to get in good with the mom,” he added with a laugh and darted inside.

  Kristen watched poor Stanley’s eyes droop as Isaac read him a book. Her son was smitten with the little boy, probably because he’d been denied—Isaac’s word—siblings throughout his life. It had never occurred to Kristen that at seventeen, he still was interested in having younger children around. The desire for siblings had burned off long ago, she’d thought.

  But the minute they were done eating pizza—Stanley included, though he barely tasted two bites before deciding to stick to his plain cereal—Isaac had stolen the boy and taken him to the living room to sit on his lap and read to him. Stanley had proven a hard sell, squirming at first and trying to chew on the book rather than listen. But Isaac had pumped up the intensity of the voices he used, which captured Stan’s imagination and attention.

  I raised a smart kid.

  She watched with a small smile as Isaac shifted Stanley a bit when the little child drooped. “He’s going boneless. It’s like trying to cuddle a limp noodle.”

  She grinned and stepped in. “Want me to take him upstairs? It’s bedtime anyway.”

  Clay passed her and held out his arms. “I’m going to do bedtime. You can hang out with Isaac for a bit. Say good-bye to everyone, Stanley.”

  Stanley gave them a fisted wave before laying his head down on his uncle’s shoulder, eyes fluttering closed. Kristen watched them with so much love in her heart it was practically bursting.

  There was no point denying it any longer. Love…it was pure love. For the man who would upend his life for his nephew, who would show such emotion and not hide his devastation at losing his sister. That he would accept her help so easily, push pride to the side and let her step up, step in.

  “He’s a cool kid.” Isaac came to stand
beside her as they watched Clay walk up the stairs. “Little messy maybe.”

  She glanced over to see him picking at a dried Cheerio on his T-shirt sleeve. “Whoops. Want me to scrub that off before you go?”

  “Nah, I’ve got a change of clothes in the car. I was actually going to ask you if you were okay with me spending the night at Dylan’s house. His dad has the day off tomorrow and was going to take us out to breakfast and then that park with the batting cages and minigolf and bumper cars tomorrow. If you’re okay with it.”

  “Yeah, sure. Definitely.” Another night where she didn’t have to worry about her son and a day where he was engaged and supervised? Hello, salvation. “Let me get you some money.” She dug through her purse and held out a few twenties. But held on when he tried to pluck them from her grasp. “Easy on the junk food, please? And pay your own way.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said like a robot, and she pushed his shoulder.

  “Brat.”

  “Hey, Mom?” he said, suddenly serious. “Coach...he’s a great guy.”

  “Yes, he is.” She waited for more. “Is that all?”

  “I’m just saying, he likes you. Really likes you. And I’m good with it. All of it. I’m leaving soon, and it would be nice knowing you’ve got someone. Dad found Georgia, and they’re happy and all that. I’m not saying you have to get married and whatever. But having someone, that would be nice. I’d feel better if you did, you know?”

  Her eyes stung, but she blinked back the tears as she pulled her son in close for a hug. She had to go up on her tiptoes to make it work. Her son was inching closer to manhood with every passing day. And not just because of his age. “You are the most amazing thing I have done with my life, Isaac Zachary Brown.”

  “Yeah, well.” He scoffed but hugged her back. “Tell Stanley I said to stay cool.”