The Maxwell Series Boxed Set - Books 4-6

by Alexander, S. B.

  A chill crawled down my back. “Don’t ever leave me.”

  His arms went around me. “Hey, I’m not going anywhere.”

  “You don’t know what fate has in store for us, and I don’t want to be talking to your gravestone.”

  He rubbed my back. “Baby, stop thinking morbid thoughts.”

  I nuzzled into his hard chest, absorbing his manly scent, breathing a sigh of relief, knowing he loved me. The first year of college without him at my side had been scary, death-defying, lonely, and I’d found it hard to breathe. I had cried most nights in my dorm, barely keeping my mind focused on classes, always wondering when my PTSD might hit me or when one of my triggers would surface. For example, a dark house or dark building would send me spiraling into a blackout. But I believed all the worrying I did that first year had helped me become more aware of my triggers, which was one of the reasons I’d kept my PTSD mostly at bay.

  “What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?” Kade’s husky voice shattered all those memories of loneliness in college and sleepless nights without him.

  I craned my neck. “I was thinking how much I love you.”

  He lowered his head, ghosting his lips over mine. “Baby, you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.” He kissed me, slow and tentative.

  That chill I’d had a moment ago was replaced by tingles that coated my body as I pushed my tongue into his mouth. He tasted of happiness and sunshine. He’d always taken away the bad memories. He’d always been there to catch me when I fell. He’d been the guy who didn’t run when he’d seen me black out or have one of my panic attacks. He’d been the man who held me when I had nightmares.

  He had the biggest heart of anyone I knew. He kissed me wildly as his strong hands got lost in my hair. I wanted to stay right in that spot and kiss him forever. But forever died when my phone broke the veil of silence that surrounded us.

  He groaned as he always did when someone or something interrupted us.

  I dipped into my purse and removed my phone. My eyes went wide when I recognized the number. “It’s the Dodgers.”

  The ringing continued as I fumbled with the phone, almost dropping it. “Hello.” My voice shook.

  “Lacey, this is Brice Thames. Are you feeling better?”

  “Yes, sir.” I’d taken a nap and had a handful of crackers earlier. Still, my nerves spiked high, waiting for him to continue.

  “Good to hear,” he said. “We just got out of our meeting, and we’d like for you to join us next week in Oklahoma and practice with the team.”

  I held my bottom lip hostage. “So no contract?”

  “I want you to meet the team and practice with them. If all goes well, then we can talk contract.”

  I couldn’t say I wasn’t disappointed because I was. Then again, given that Tony and Holly suspected I was pregnant, I was also surprised I still had an opportunity to convince Brice I was the right person for the job. Although maybe he was taking things slow in the event I was pregnant. That way, he wouldn’t have to go through signing me and getting the fans and media all excited about signing a girl only to have to dissolve the contract when I had to stop playing, which might not go over well with the Dodgers or the fans.

  “With Freddie out, I thought you needed a pitcher to start after the All-Star break.”

  “You let me worry about that. So are you in?”

  I glanced up at Kade. “Can I call you back in an hour? I want to talk it over with my boyfriend.” It was as much my decision as it was Kade’s. I’d learned from my mom that major decisions should be discussed with your significant other.

  “I’ll expect to hear from you in an hour,” he said. Then the phone line went dead.

  I widened my eyes. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t said yes.

  “I heard most of the conversation,” Kade said. “So why do you have to get my opinion?”

  I poked him in the chest. “Because that’s what couples do. We talk about things.”

  He brought my hand up to his mouth “You can’t pass this up.” He kissed my palm. “This could lead to a contract.”

  I bit my lip. “I know. But with the idea of me being pregnant—”

  He placed a finger on my mouth. “You said yourself your period isn’t due until next week. There’s no harm in practicing with the team. Brice is feeling you out. It’s all part of the interview process. And if it turns out you’re pregnant, we’ll cross that bridge then.”

  Even though he was right, I should say no, maybe because Kade was wincing.

  “Is it a headache?” I asked.

  A hard wind blew, causing some strands of his hair to fall in his eyes. After he flicked away his hair, he painted on one of his famous blank expressions that I hated. He wasn’t telling me something.

  “No,” he said emphatically. “We should go. With traffic, I don’t want to be late for our meeting with Mr. Brandt.”

  I huffed out a sigh, debating whether to push him for a straight answer. I chose not to. I didn’t want to get into an argument in the middle of the cemetery, especially not with an old man walking toward us, holding flowers.

  My heart tripped a beat at the sadness written all over the old man’s face. I had the urge to console him. On that thought, I walked up to him. “Sir, I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  He stopped dead in his tracks and regarded me with a nod of his head. “Thank you.” Then he took one of my hands in his. “Death is never easy.” He glanced at Kade. “Make sure you put your loved ones before anything else.” He sounded as though he were guilty of not taking his own advice.

  I checked on Kade, who was rubbing one of his temples. When I turned back to the old man, he was gone. I spotted him two rows down, setting the flowers on the ledge of a gravestone. I watched him bless himself before I joined Kade.

  “Are you one hundred percent sure you’re okay? I mean physically?” I swallowed hard as an eerie feeling careened through me. I shivered despite the warm sunshine.

  He kissed me on the head. “I am.”

  I didn’t believe him. But I learned long ago that pushing Kade for an answer was futile. When he was ready, he would tell me.

  For now, we made our way to the rental car in silence.

  Within thirty minutes, we were sitting in the lobby of the hotel, surrounded by light music, people coming and going, and others sitting in chairs, absorbed in their phones or on their computers. Every now and then, the fragrant aroma of orchids floated our way from the large vase of flowers sitting on a table near the entrance.

  “I texted the DA and told him where we were in the hotel,” Kade said.

  I stared at the bar area across from us. I’d had one or two beers throughout my college years, but I’d never gotten drunk or drank until I was feeling buzzed like most of the kids at frat parties had. My baseball coach would’ve had my head on a platter. Sure, my teammates had tied one on any chance they had, but I couldn’t risk making a fool of myself, or worse, ending up passed out somewhere. But watching the businessman at the bar chug a beer, I suddenly wanted one—mainly to ease the piranhas in my stomach. While my brain was on overdrive about baseball, worry over Kade, and the possibility that I could be pregnant, I was freaking out about my grandfather’s parole. What could I possibly say to keep my grandfather behind bars? I mean, the fact that he tried to have me killed should have been enough to keep him locked up without parole.

  Shoes clicked along the shiny tiled floor, breaking my concentration. I glanced at the sharp-dressed man in a pinstriped suit with a pink shirt and bright-green tie.

  He set his briefcase down next to Kade, who was sitting on my left. “Lacey Robinson?” He stuck out his manicured hand. “I’m District Attorney Brandt.”

  Kade popped to his feet, as did I.

  After we shook, the three of us moved into the bar and sat at a table.

  Mr. Brandt got down to business. “I don’t have much time. I appreciate you meeting with me.” He pulled out his phone and set it
on the table. “I’m going to record this conversation if that’s okay?” He set his blue eyes on me.

  I swallowed hard. “Sure.”

  Kade slipped his hand in my lap.

  Mr. Brandt tapped a button on his phone. “Tell me, Ms. Robinson, why you think Harrison Lorenzino should stay behind bars.”

  Rubbing my throat, I cleared it. “The man is a murderer. He killed my mom and sister.”

  “Technically, that’s not true,” Mr. Brandt said.

  I straightened. “My grandfather hunted me down, had me kidnapped, and then threatened to kill me if my father didn’t give him what he was after.” I’d said the very same thing in a statement to the FBI right after they had taken my grandfather into custody. “More than that, he did have a hand in killing my mom and sister, even though he wasn’t the one to drive the knife into both of them repeatedly.” Darkness encroached on my peripheral vision. I squeezed my eyes shut for a second. “He deserves to live out his full sentence in prison.”

  Mr. Brandt’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen. “I have to take this.” He lifted the phone to his ear as he hurried into the lobby area.

  “Breathe,” Kade said.

  I inhaled a large amount of air before slowly blowing it out. I had learned many years ago that breathing exercises helped to calm me until I met Kade. Then he was the one who soothed me.

  Kade rubbed my leg. “I know this is hard, but you need to also tell Mr. Brandt about your PTSD and how your grandfather’s release will have a great negative effect on you.”

  I wasn’t so sure that my psychological state would be enough to persuade the parole board to keep the evil man behind bars. Still, I had to try.

  Mr. Brandt returned, appearing distraught. His eyebrows were almost touching his hairline. “Well, this meeting is over. I just got word that your grandfather died this morning of a massive heart attack.”

  Holy crap on a cracker. I didn’t know how I felt about that. I hated the man, but that didn’t mean he should die.

  Mr. Brandt collected his briefcase from the empty chair next to him. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  I couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh.

  Kade draped an arm around the back of my chair, not reacting in any way.

  I looked up at the light above the table, thinking that my mom and sister had heard me when I’d said, “Tell those angels above to make sure my grandfather doesn’t get parole.”

  I let out a loud audible sigh. Maybe things were looking up.

  For the moment, I could breathe.

  Chapter Seven

  Kade

  I gnawed on my pinky finger as if it were my snack for the afternoon. My dad and I were waiting for Dr. Thompson, the neurologist who I’d seen in the past. When I’d gotten back from LA last Friday, I had immediately informed my old man that something was seriously wrong with me. I’d been experiencing a lot more dizziness and blurry vision as of late. I was also beginning to feel some weakness in my right arm. I had noticed it when I’d picked up the luggage at the airport. Considering I was having several types of symptoms, it was time to see a doctor.

  My dad hadn’t flinched or shown any signs of surprise when I’d told him about my symptoms. He had, however, not wasted any time in calling Dr. Thompson.

  I would have been lying if I said I wasn’t worried. I was terrified. But as I fidgeted in my seat, I kept thinking about Lacey and the possibility of her being pregnant. In one breath, I prayed she was. I wanted to start a family so damn bad, I could taste it. On the other hand, I didn’t want to ruin her opportunity of playing baseball. We hadn’t talked at all about pregnancy since that day at Dodger Stadium. Instead, we had talked about her practicing with the Dodgers’ Triple-A team. She’d made the decision shortly after she learned that her grandfather had died. Besides, she was still waiting for her monthly friend to appear.

  My dad swatted my hand from my mouth. “Stop. You’re about to drive me to rip off my own nails.” If my dad was nervous, he certainly wasn’t showing any signs as he sat there, poised and casually dressed in khakis and a crisp button-up shirt.

  The waiting room was rather empty. Only one other person filled a chair adjacent to us—a woman in her late forties, I would guess. She was absorbed in a magazine. Maybe I should find something to read to take my mind off the exam, although Dr. Thompson wouldn’t be able to tell me anything today, not without doing an MRI.

  “Why didn’t you come to me when your dizziness and headaches started?” Dad’s panicked tone revealed for the first time that he was as nervous as I was.

  “I just thought they were related to my usual migraines.”

  “What about the numbness above your eye?”

  I pushed up a shoulder. “Comes and goes. But that is recent.” I had started feeling the numbness at the airport as well.

  “Does Lacey know you’re here?”

  I bounced my knee. “I’ll tell her after I know what’s going on.” In my opinion, it was better to have all the facts. That way, she could concentrate on pitching without worrying about me.

  My dad sighed. “Why haven’t you proposed? I thought you were going to before her graduation?”

  I chuckled. “I almost did. No, I didn’t get cold feet. It just wasn’t the right time.”

  “Son, there never is a right time.”

  I sat on my hands. “I want the proposal to be perfect and not overshadowed by anything like her grandfather’s death or baseball. Besides, she doesn’t want to get married for a couple of years.”

  He crossed one leg over the other. “So what? You can have a long engagement. Put that ring on her finger.”

  I wanted to. Actually, I wanted to whisk her away to Vegas and elope. Only her words had stopped me from proposing. The major leagues might not want me if they know I’m married. I knew that was a weak excuse. I knew all my excuses so far had been weak at best. If we loved each other, then she should say yes, no matter what was going on around us. Which led me to the only other conclusion—I had cold feet. I wanted an emphatic yes out of her when I asked. I didn’t want any buts or let’s wait years or I can’t be married while I’m playing baseball.

  “Kade Maxwell,” an auburn-haired nurse said.

  Dad tapped me on the leg as he rose.

  I swallowed the nerves before I pushed to my feet.

  “We’ll get through this,” Dad said. The panic that had resonated earlier was gone. In its place was pure confidence as though he knew I would be okay.

  I wished I had his confidence. I wished I had his tenacity. I wished I had his strength. For so long, he’d been the anchor of the Maxwell family. He was the one who’d kept us from jumping off a cliff when my sister died. He’d been the one to hold his head high, hiding his emotions when my mom went to live in a mental health facility.

  I could only nod, shoving down the tears that wanted to pour out of me as we ventured to the exam room behind the nurse.

  Once inside, the nurse stabbed her pretty pink painted nail to the exam table. “Up you go.”

  Dad folded his tall stature into the lone chair.

  The nurse grabbed a thermometer from the small counter by the sink before she stuck it in my mouth.

  Dad snagged a magazine from the basket on the floor next to him.

  I stared at the nurse’s name tag that read, “Sheila.”

  When the timer on the thermometer beeped, Sheila said, “Normal.” She then proceeded to take my blood pressure. Once she was finished, she jotted down the results on a piece of paper. “Dr. Thompson will be right in.” Then she glided out like an angel.

  Before the door shut, Dr. Thompson waltzed in. He wore a doctor’s white coat over a blue shirt and striped red-and-blue tie. He stuck out his hand to Dad. “Nice to see you again, Martin.” Then he set his brown eyes on me. “Kade, it’s been a while.”

  High school had been the last time I’d seen Dr. Thompson after I blacked out from a migraine. Back then, he’d ordered an MRI, which had come back
clean.

  He planted his lanky body on a rolling stool. “So, your dad tells me that you’re having numbness and weakness in the arms along with your migraines. Is the weakness in your right or left arm?”

  I pressed the palms of my hands into the leather exam table. “Right. The numbness is on the right as well.” I touched the area above my eye.

  “Any speech problems, slurring, ringing in the ears, or hearing loss?” Dr. Thompson asked. “How frequent are the headaches?”

  I stretched my neck. “None of the symptoms you just mentioned. In the last month, my headaches seem to be more and stronger.”

  He rubbed his smooth-shaven jaw. “Let’s do a full blood workup and schedule you for another MRI as soon as possible.”

  “Do you think I have a tumor?” I knew he couldn’t give me a straight answer, but I had to ask.

  My dad cringed, the lines around his copper eyes deepening.

  Removing his stethoscope from around his neck, the doctor began checking my heart and lungs. “I’m not going to speculate.” He felt around my right arm before he instructed me to squeeze my hand into a fist. Then he whipped out a light pen and checked both of my eyes. “Any black spots in your peripheral vision?”

  “Not at all,” I said.

  He tucked his hands into the pockets of his lab coat. “Does over-the-counter medication relieve your headaches?”

  “I have to take four Advil, and even then, it only dulls the pain.”

  Dr. Thompson tipped his head at the door. “Let’s go see Melissa out at the front desk. We’ll get you scheduled for an MRI and CT Scan. In the meantime, I want you to take it easy. I also don’t want you to drive. If for some reason you have an episode of dizziness or you start to see black spots in your vision, I don’t want you behind the wheel.”

  My dad stood, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Lawrence, let’s be frank. What are you thinking?”

  I held my breath. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what Dr. Thompson was thinking even though I’d asked the question earlier.

  “Martin, you know as a doctor that it’s hard to give a diagnosis without test results.”