The Maxwell Series Boxed Set - Books 4-6

by Alexander, S. B.

  My dad grinned so big, my heart opened a little. “Congratulations. Now you two can plan the wedding. Your mom will be thrilled.”

  Oh God. Mom? I wanted to believe my mom was a strong woman. To a certain extent, she was. But the one thing she worried the most about was losing her sons. She’d lost her baby girl, and that alone was what had sent her into a mental health facility.

  As though my dad knew what I was thinking, he said, “Your mom is strong too.”

  I swallowed an elephant as I stared at Dr. Thompson’s diploma and other accolades and awards on the wall behind his desk. “I’m not sure I can be.” If I showed weakness, then it would only send my mom and even my brothers into that depression they knew so well.

  The door creaked open.

  I took in a deep breath. My dad adjusted in his seat.

  Wearing a smile, Dr. Thompson circled his large mahogany desk and nodded to Dad and me before he folded his stature into his chair.

  Suddenly, the air in the room thickened, or maybe there wasn’t any since I was having trouble catching my breath as my heart tried to break through a rib.

  Dad leaned his elbows on both knees. “And the verdict is?”

  Dr. Thompson smoothed a hand over his perfectly coiffed gray hair. Then he brought his hands to his mouth in prayer style.

  I wondered for a split second if that meant I should start praying. Regardless, I did begin reciting those prayers that Mom had made us boys say just before bed when we were kids.

  Dr. Thompson swung his gaze to Dad then me. “Kade, you have a medium-sized mass on the front right side.” He touched the temple of his own head.

  My jaw came unhinged. I felt as though he had just sucker punched me once, twice, three times.

  Dad grabbed my arm. “When do you operate?”

  Every muscle in me stiffened like a two-by-four.

  Operate? Medium-sized mass? What the fuck?

  Dr. Thompson held up a hand.

  I wanted to take that hand and ram my fist into it. Granted, it wasn’t his fault I had a mass.

  I got up. “I need air.” I needed more than air. I needed Lacey. I briefly closed my eyes, working hard to get my pulse to slow.

  I am strong. I have to be strong. I have to fight this.

  My dad caught my arm. “Not yet.”

  I dropped my jaw. “I can’t breathe.” I had to escape the four walls and the sunny atmosphere. A credenza banked one wall and was filled with photos of Dr. Thompson and his family. My gaze landed on his little girl with blond pigtails.

  A slew of several swear words shouted in my head as I thought that I might not ever get to have kids.

  All of a sudden, I wished more than life itself that Lacey was pregnant.

  “Kade,” Dr. Thompson said. “Please sit.”

  I stood behind my chair, gripping, or more like crushing, the wooden frame as I replayed the conversation Lacey and I had had in the cemetery in LA.

  “Don’t ever leave me,” she’d said.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I’d said.

  What a total fucking lie.

  I shoved my hands through my hair, pulling on strands just to wake me the fuck up and get me out of my poor state of mind.

  “The scans show you have a meningioma,” Dr. Thompson said. “It’s a type of tumor that is categorized as benign in ninety percent of the cases. However, they usually start out small. What’s surprising is these types of tumors are not that common in young men of your age. Regardless, in some instances, a meningioma can be life threatening. Considering your symptoms, I’m concerned. We should remove the mass as soon as possible.”

  I suddenly hated that word—mass. I rubbed my hand on my chest where the five hearts were tattooed, as though it were my way of wishing all this away.

  “The last two days, I hardly had any blurriness in my vision or dizziness or even weakness in my arm,” I said in a cracked voice.

  Dad got up and came around to stand next to me. “Son, the good news is we know what’s going on. As Dr. Thompson said, ninety percent of the time, the tumor is benign. However, we shouldn’t take chances and wait.”

  “Because of that ten percent that it might be cancerous. Right?” I had to throw that out there, but when the words left my mouth, I wanted to curl up in a corner and cry. The odds were stacked against me. Young men of my age were not likely to have a meningioma. But I did. Ninety percent of cases were benign, but I didn’t feel as though I fell into that percentile, which made the bile rise to settle in my throat.

  Dad rested a hand on my back. “Let’s not think that way.” Then he regarded Dr. Thompson. “How soon can we get him into surgery?”

  “First availability would be next Wednesday,” Dr. Thompson said. “Or we can schedule the surgery out two weeks, which is the next time available.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t want to wait.” I wanted to get on with my life. I wanted to get married. I didn’t want to worry if the mass would grow or if my symptoms would get worse. I didn’t want Lacey or anyone in my family to not be able to sleep for two weeks, either.

  I blew out a long breath, wondering how I would tell Lacey. I checked my watch. Her plane had landed about an hour ago, and she should’ve texted me by now. I fished in my jeans pocket for my phone but came up empty. Then I remembered I’d left it in the car on the charger.

  Dr. Thompson pushed to his feet. “I’ll get everything set up. Melissa will be in touch with the details. For now, go home and relax.”

  My face twisted in every possible way. Relax? Easier said than done. I nodded at him anyway then said to my dad, “I’ll wait for you in the car.”

  He tossed me the keys with a tentative smile. I was sure he had a ton of questions to ask Dr. Thompson, anyway. As for me, I didn’t have any. I just wanted to get all this over with.

  I ran out of the building as if I were running from a madman chasing me with a knife. I didn’t stop until I got to my dad’s car. My hand shook as I gripped the door handle. I stepped back and turned one way then another. I closed my hand into a fist, ready to punch something, anything. Doing so wouldn’t take away the mass. I leaned against the car and slid down until I was sitting on the warm pavement. I stared at the shiny red car parked next to mine. I couldn’t make out my reflection, but I would bet fear was painted all over my face.

  I labored for air as the tears dropped onto my jeans one after the other.

  Get your shit together, dude. Get your ass up and face the music. Get over to your fiancée’s and tell her the news. Tell her you love the crap out of her and make love to her like it’s your last day on earth.

  More tears spilled.

  A phone ringing drew me out of my funk. I looked in both directions before realizing that it was my phone in the car.

  I climbed to my feet. The ringing stopped. I rubbed my eyes before I got in the passenger’s seat. Then I picked up my phone.

  Missed call and two text messages. I opened up the texts from Lacey.

  Where are you? I’m home, and Becca is coming over. I’ve asked her to be my maid of honor. When you get this, call me.

  The second message read, Oh, and the Dodgers haven’t made a decision yet. And I love you.

  I stared out the windshield at the back of a minivan, my brain working overtime, wondering how I was going to break the news to Lacey, or if I even could.

  Chapter Eleven

  Lacey

  I dropped my bags on the hallway floor at my dad’s house.

  Dad fiddled with his keys as he padded into the kitchen. “I can’t stay. I have to run by the Cave. I’ll be home later, and we can have dinner.”

  I followed behind him and went down one step into our family room then plopped on the couch.

  Dad came into the room. “I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

  That was an understatement. I was in great shape. Physically, I could push myself past the soreness and pain. Yet my tiredness had more to do with the emotional strain since I’d learned of my gr
andfather’s parole. Granted, I didn’t have to worry about him anymore. Trying to impress Brice was the main reason I was emotionally drained at the moment.

  I’d left Oklahoma with Brice’s comments lingering, which didn’t sit well. “We’ll be in touch within a week or so.”

  My sixth sense told me his answer and that of the management team would be a big, fat no. “We’re not ready for a female” was the answer I was preparing myself for.

  Whether or not they would sign me, I’d done my best. I’d put every ounce of energy into my pitching. So much so that I swore I’d never worked harder.

  For now, I wanted to table baseball. I’d been on warp speed since I’d moved to Ashford in my senior year of high school. Since then, baseball had been my major focus. Maybe that was the reason I’d been a little depressed and feeling sorry for myself. I hadn’t given myself a chance to enjoy my family and Kade and my friends. I was chalking up that feeling of loneliness I’d had on the ball field in Oklahoma to my recent visit to Julie’s and Mom’s graves.

  I gazed at my beautiful and sparkly diamond, kicking myself in the proverbial ass for telling Kade we should wait until my career took off before we even considered marriage. The minute his face brightened after I’d said yes was the minute I yelled at myself.

  Even if I did have a career in baseball, we could still get married. If a team didn’t like that, then that was their problem not mine. They had to treat me like every man on the field who got married. They also had to realize that I was an adult and managed my own career. So if I wanted to start a family, then I would, although I still believed that the Dodgers signing me was a long shot. All I could hear in my head was Brice saying they weren’t ready for a female on the team.

  I chewed on my lip.

  “Something wrong?” Dad asked, drawing me away from my analysis of my career.

  “I’m not sure I want to play for the Dodgers.”

  He reared back. “They’re your favorite team.”

  I twirled the ring on my finger. “I don’t want to play for a man who doesn’t want me there. My manager has to be supportive, and I’m a little tired of fighting the war of men who don’t think a girl can play baseball or a team that’s not ready for a female player.”

  Creases dented his forehead. “Do you think other teams might be interested in you?”

  I shrugged. “Not sure. But I wouldn’t mind playing for the Red Sox.” It would keep me closer to home. That way Kade and I wouldn’t be apart as much. He would also have his family nearby.

  Suddenly, I thought my eyes might’ve bugged out.

  “What is it?” Dad asked.

  I straightened. “I’m going to call the Red Sox scout.” John Gleason had been the one to invite me to spend time with the Pawtucket Red Sox two summers ago during my college break. I shouldn’t wait for a team to come to me. I should go to them.

  Dad smiled. “Great idea. I got to run.” He started for the door.

  “Dad, before you go, can I ask you something?”

  He halted in his tracks.

  “We haven’t had a chance to talk about your father. Are you sad he’s dead?” I couldn’t say I was. But Harrison Lorenzino was blood and my dad’s father.

  Anger colored his cheeks. “I don’t wish death upon anyone, but I’m not.” As fast as the color surfaced, it vanished before his green eyes brightened. “It’s time to shed the past. While you’re waiting to hear from the Dodgers, why don’t you plan a wedding? I know Kade is dying to marry you.” He left through the kitchen.

  A tingly feeling consumed me at the mention of the wedding. I had no idea how to plan a wedding. I had no idea where or when Kade and I would tie the knot. All I knew was I wanted to marry Kade as badly as he wanted to marry me.

  Then as if someone threw ice on me, I realized today was the day I was supposed to get my period. Then again, I wasn’t always on time. Some months, I was a day or two late; other months, a day or so early.

  The doorbell rang followed by the creak of the front door. “Lacey, it’s me, Becca.”

  “I’m in the family room.”

  Heels clicked on the hardwood floor before a gorgeous girl with bluish-black hair sashayed in, dressed in tight-fitting jeans with holes just above her knees. Her long white shirt hung to mid-thigh, and the words Nurses Rock were sprawled across her chest. Black ankle boots completed the outfit. Her face was made up as though she were about to hit the town or model for some big-time magazine.

  “Whoa! Becca Young, is that you?” The last time I’d seen Becca was over New Years two years ago. Since then, we’d only spoken on the phone or exchanged emails every so often. We had both been so busy with college.

  She set the handful of wedding magazines down on the coffee table as I jumped up to give my best friend from high school a huge hug.

  “I’ve missed you,” I said.

  “Oh my God. You don’t know how I’ve missed you.”

  As I eased back, I spotted the diamond stud in her nose. “Since when do you do piercings?”

  She rolled her dark eyes. “Since Tyler dared me.”

  Tyler Langley had been in love with me in high school, and Becca had been crushing on him then. It had been a little tense when Becca found out that he was interested in me and not her. Still, I had no interest in Tyler other than friendship. My eyes had always been on Kade from the very first day I’d met the sexy hunk.

  I sat back down in my warm spot. “Are you two still dating?”

  Frowning, she got comfortable on the couch next to me. “Nah. We went our separate ways about two months ago. I know I should’ve called you and told you, but with college graduation, things have been crazy. So the good news is I got a nursing job at the local hospital here in Ashford.”

  I squealed. “Seriously? That’s awesome. Kody’s girlfriend is a surgical nurse there. Well, when she’s not in the recording studio with my dad.”

  “Kody has a girlfriend? Whoa! I’ve missed a lot. First though, let’s talk wedding. Then you can fill me in on all the Maxwell news and Lacey news.” She leaned over and dragged the wedding magazines toward us.

  I reached out and touched her leg. “I’m sorry about you and Tyler.”

  She waved me off. “It’s all good. He was my high school crush, and I had a chance to date him. Now I’m over him.” Her tone seemed off, as though she were still hurting over the breakup.

  I thought about prying, but if it were me, I wouldn’t want anyone to open up an old wound. So I said, “I’m here if you want to talk about it.”

  She stuck out her chin. “Thank you, but I’ve spent years crushing on the boy who is now an ass in my book.”

  Somehow I couldn’t wrap my brain around Tyler being an ass to her or anyone. I tossed Tyler aside and got us a couple of sodas before we settled in to catch up on the last couple of years of our lives.

  For the next two hours, we talked endlessly about college, the Maxwells, her nursing studies, how she was excited to move back home, and how happy she was that she would be working at the local hospital. I listened and nodded and shared with her the highlights of my college career, which were all about baseball. Then I added in the Dodgers and my grandfather.

  After a huge sigh, I hugged a small square pillow. “So I might be pregnant.”

  She had just brought her glass of soda up to her lips and froze. Her eyes widened.

  “Might,” I reiterated.

  She set the glass down on the coffee table. “Are you late? Are your breasts tender? Do you have any nausea?”

  I touched my breasts. “Not tender. But I’ve had some nausea.” I proceeded to tell her about my embarrassing display on the mound at Dodger Stadium. “Oh, and I’m not late yet.”

  The front door opened then closed before Kade’s voice filtered our way. “Lace?”

  Becca and I glanced at the arched doorway leading to the hall until Kade’s muscled body appeared.

  Becca waved then whipped her head at me.

  My body tense
d. I’d never seen Kade so distraught before. He seemed as though he’d been crying. Kade never cried. My badass boyfriend had always had his shit together, even when I was blacking out or having a panic attack.

  Kade swung his gaze from me to Becca. “I need to talk to Lacey alone.” His voice shook.

  Becca didn’t waste any time. She got up, grabbed her purse off the coffee table, and hugged me. “Call me later.” She ambled up to Kade. “It’s great to see you.” She tossed a worried look over her shoulder before she walked out.

  When the front door clicked shut, my heart stopped. Kade hadn’t moved. I tried to get my legs off the couch, but I didn’t think blood was pumping through me.

  Finally, Kade took in a deep breath and made his way over to me. He eased down into Becca’s spot. “I need to tell you something.” He puffed out his cheeks.

  My stomach knotted. “Did something happen to your mom?” His mom had had angina, and maybe the ailment had progressed.

  He scooted closer to me. His big body suddenly made me feel claustrophobic. His hand found mine. “It’s not my mom. It’s me. I have a brain tumor.”

  Blackness swept into the sides of my vision as I clutched my chest. “I’m not sure I heard you.”

  A tear ran down his face. “It’s a meningioma. The doc says they’re normally benign. My mass is at a good size where he’s concerned. So he wants to operate.”

  My pulse pounded in my ears. The blackness started taking over my vision. I knew a panic attack was imminent, but I couldn’t let it happen. Kade needed me. For so long, he’d been there for me when I blacked out or had nightmares. He was the one who had always worried about me. I did worry about him, but not as much. After all, he was the protector, my protector. He was the one who took care of me. He was the one who took care of his brothers and his family.

  Oh my God. I’d been such an idiot. He had traveled to Oklahoma because he’d known he had a tumor. That was the reason he’d appeared as though something bad had happened. I should have been angry he hadn’t told me then, but the shock in my body was overpowering all my emotions. Besides, arguing wouldn’t change the fact that he had a tumor.