Roughing the Player (Chicago Outlaws Book 2)

by Magda Alexander

  “What are you arguing about?” she asks.

  I take a deep breath, let it out. “Your mother forgot to tell me she was pregnant.”

  Kaylee’s cheeks turn pink.

  “You knew? And you didn’t tell me?” Betrayed by both my wife and my daughter.

  “I couldn’t.” She stares at the floor. “It wasn’t for me to tell.”

  Ravaged by emotion, Ellie swipes the tears from her face. “Kaylee, pack your bags. We’re leaving.”

  “No, I’m not.” Our daughter backs away from her mom and anchors herself to me. “I’m staying. I want to go to Mitch’s school, learn advanced programming and intern at Advanced Tech.”

  When did she decide all this? Is that the real reason Ellie flew down? Not because of the welcome wagons or because Kaylee mentioned Mitch, but because Kaylee wants to stay? Seems Kaylee is not the only devious one.

  “No. You’re not, young lady.”

  Still latched on to me, Kaylee glances up. “You guys have joint custody. I can stay with either parent, can’t I?”

  Rather than wait for me to answer, Ellie jumps in. “No, you can’t. The agreement specifically calls for you to live with me during the school year.”

  She’d made sure to include that in the joint custody papers we drew up before our wedding. At the time, I’d wondered why. Now I know. She wanted to make sure Kaylee stayed with her.

  Kaylee turns toward her mother. “So move down here, and we can live together, Mom.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “My job’s in Chicago.”

  “Can’t you be an agent anywhere? There are a lot of college football teams down here. You can find players to represent.”

  I hate to hear the hope in her voice. Her mother’s already made up her mind and nothing is going to change it.

  “It’s not that easy, Kaylee.”

  “If you establish an office here, word will get around. You’re good, Mom. You know how to negotiate a deal.”

  Ellie pleads with me. “Brock, say something.”

  “Dad?” Kaylee’s eyes are swimming with tears. She’s miserable. But then so are Ellie and me.

  Regardless, I have to be an adult about this. I have to do what’s best for Kaylee. And that’s not staying with me. “I don’t want you to go,” I say, my voice crushed.

  A tiny smile trembles on her lips as she turns to her mother. “See?”

  Ellie doesn’t say a thing, leaving it up to me to crush my daughter’s spirit. “I appreciate your wanting to live with me, but you have to do as your Mom says.” It hurts to say that, more than Kaylee will ever know.

  “You don’t want me?”

  How could she believe that? “Of course, I do. I’d love to have you here, year-round.” I jam my hands in my pockets to stop them from trembling and toughen my voice. “But you have to live with your mom.”

  “Why?” She lets go of my arm. Her heart’s breaking too.

  “Because she’s your mom. Right now it seems all fun and games because it’s summertime, but once school starts, you’ll miss her. You know you will.”

  Her gaze swivels from Ellie to me and back again. “But I don’t understand. We could be a family. You, her, Butch and me. And the baby.”

  “You’re right, we could, except it’s not going to work.” Please don’t ask me to explain. I don’t understand it myself.

  “But you love her and she loves you.”

  Something in me shatters. I do love Ellie. More than she’ll ever know. But she doesn’t love me. But I can’t let my pain affect Kaylee. I have to do what’s best for her. And that means giving her something to anticipate. “You can come and visit during Christmas.” As a consolation prize, it pretty much sucks. But I don’t have anything else. I’m hurting too much.

  “How are you going to work things out? I might be all grown up, but what about the baby? Is he going to come down for Christmas too?”

  I rub my hand across my brow. God knows I don’t have an answer for that. I’m all tapped out. “Ellie. You want to take that one?”

  But before she can do so, her cell rings. Glancing at it, she says, “It’s Grandma.”

  I nod.

  She takes a deep breath, swipes the phone. “Hi, Mama.” As she listens, her face turns white as a sheet.

  What the fuck happened? “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  Trembling, she holds the cell to her chest. “It’s Butch. He was hit by a car.”

  Chapter 30

  Brock

  FOUR HOURS LATER, we’re landing at O’Hare. The jet got us to Chicago as quickly as it could.

  The flight north wasn’t easy. Kaylee cried the whole way. “It’s all my fault. I should have brought him with me.”

  Ellie folds Kaylee into her embrace. “Honey, that wouldn’t have worked. Dogs have a hard time in a plane’s cargo hold.”

  Turning into her mother’s shoulder, Kaylee breaks down into sobs.

  Not that I have anything to comment about. I’m barely holding on. If anybody’s to blame, it’s me. I should have brought him to Charleston. Except, I couldn’t. As close as he’d grown to Kaylee, separating them would have been cruel.

  There’s no luggage to retrieve at O’Hare. We hadn’t packed a thing. As soon as Ellie had hung up with Ruth, I’d contacted the South Carolina Wolves. If anybody would know how to lease a jet, it would be them. But they did one better. The owner of the team lent me his.

  Outside the airport, the Lincoln car the team reserved waits for us. Much as I want the driver to tear through traffic, he can’t. It takes a full hour to arrive where Butch is. The Windy City Emergency Animal Hospital is one of the best in Chicago with a sterling reputation so Butch’s in good hands. But knowing there’s only so much a vet can do, I brace myself for the worst sort of news. As soon as we walk in the door, we’re met by Ellie’s mom.

  “I’m so sorry, honey,” Ruth embraces Kaylee which, of course, sets off a rush of fresh tears from her. “I should have done a better job of watching over him.”

  “Nobody blames you,” I say. Ruth had stopped at the house to check in on Butch and feed him. But when she’d opened the door, he’d taken off like a shot into the middle of the street. A driver hadn’t seen him in time and struck him head-on.

  “Thank you, Brock, for saying that. I know how much he means to you.” With a free hand, she reaches out to Ellie. “How are you holding up, honey?”

  Ellie grasps her mother’s hand and swallows hard. “I’m fine. The baby’s fine. How’s Butch?”

  “He hasn’t—” Kaylee interrupts, her lips trembling, a world of hurt in her eyes.

  “He’s hanging in there, sweetheart.” She disentangles herself from Kaylee and points to the receptionist. “This is Carmen. She’ll take you to where he is.”

  As I walk past her, she hugs me as well. “I’m so sorry, Brock.”

  I nod. Can’t say a thing past the lump in my throat.

  The surgery suite where Butch’s recuperating is pristine, but the chemical smells sicken me. It’s not anything new. I’ve been around hospitals before, but because it’s associated with my best bud, I want to upchuck, especially after I spot my big, beautiful boy. He’s lying on a table, his chest barely moving, bandaged around his middle, and a mask covering his snout. If all that wasn’t enough, two legs are wrapped in white, and an intravenous infusion flows into him through a needle stuck into an un-bandaged leg.

  As soon as we come into the room, the vet listening to his heart glances up. “Are you Butch’s family?”

  “Yes. Yes, we are. I’m Brock Parker. This is my wife, Ellie, and our daughter Kaylee.”

  He hangs the instrument around his neck and walks toward us. “I’m Dr. Burns. Ms. Tate”—he nods toward the woman monitoring the infusion—“is one of our veterinary technicians.”

  Their names barely register. “How is he?” I ask.

  “He has very serious internal injuries. And, as you can see, two broken legs. We
’ve performed surgery. Given him a blood transfusion.”

  “He’s not suffering, is he?” God, please let him say no.

  “No. He’s getting an intravenous drip of morphine and ketamine to deal with the pain.”

  “Is he going to make it?” Kaylee asks, her face ravaged with grief.

  The vet’s gaze bounces to me, a question in his eyes. I nod. Might as well get the bad news out of the way.

  “I don’t know,” he says to Kaylee in the kind tone he must have used a thousand times. “He’s strong, well-fed. We’re doing as much as we can. The rest will be up to him.”

  “When will we find out if he . . .” She can’t say it out loud. Doubt any of us could.

  “Within twenty-four hours, we’ll know.”

  Kaylee carefully wraps a hand around one of Butch’s good legs. “I love you, Butch. Please don’t die. Please.” Her voice turns upbeat, as if she’s trying to cheer him up. “I’ll get you those treats you wanted. I’ll buy you oodles of them.” But Butch doesn’t respond. He just lies there unconscious.

  Ellie bends over him and whispers into his ear. “Butch, I’ll make you a deal. You don’t die, and we’ll all live together as a family. Plus, you’ll have a new baby to love. You’d like that. Wouldn’t you, boy?”

  I don’t say anything. Caught between the joy from hearing her words and the agony from seeing my injured best bud, doubt I could speak.

  After a technician brings us chairs so we can sit down, we remain by Butch’s side, whispering words of encouragement, hoping he’ll make it through. He doesn’t get worse, but he doesn’t get better, either. Finally after two hours, I call it. “Go home. I’ll stay behind.”

  “But,” Ellie says.

  “I don’t want to leave,” Kaylee protests.

  I hug her to me, drop my chin on her head while glancing at Ellie. “Think of the baby, Kaylee. Your mother needs her rest.”

  With her breath hitching, Kaylee nods through her tears.

  Coming to her feet, Ellie turns sad eyes to me. “Call us if there’s any change.”

  “I will.”

  After they whisper some last words of encouragement to our boy, I walk them out front where Ruth waits for them. “How is he?”

  “Hanging in there.” My words come out rusty as if I forgot how to talk. “Can you take them home? I’m staying behind.” Ruth is wise enough to read between the lines. I don’t want them here if Butch passes away.

  “Of course.” She squeezes my hand. “It’s in God’s hands now, Brock.”

  I return to the post-surgery room and drop into the chair. With no one around to witness my grief, I allow the tears to flow. I’m not a religious man. Never bothered with church and such. But today, I pray with all my heart that God will heal my beautiful boy. And then I rest my head next to his body to feel the rise and fall of his chest. If he loses his battle, his loving heart will cease to beat.

  As time passes, I whisper to him. “How you doing, boy? How you doing, champ?” The vet drops in to check his vitals. The technician drifts by to adjust his drip.

  An hour passes and another. Close to three in the morning, his heart speeds up. Is that a good sign or bad?

  God, don’t let it be bad. Needing to do something, anything, I break out into a chorus of “Who Let the Dogs Out?” And miracle of miracles, his tail moves a little. Encouraged by his response, I keep it up, at first softly and then more loudly. By four o’clock, I’m hoarse and so, so tired, I rest my head against him.

  “Woof.”

  I come awake in a rush. Was that? Did he?

  “Woof.”

  My heart soars. That’s the sound he makes when he’s dreaming. “Doc. Doc!”

  The vet comes running. “What’s wrong?”

  “He woofed. That’s a good sign, right?”

  The vet listens to Butch’s heart, checks his vital signs, and stands up, a look of wonder on his face. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

  “Is he”—I swallow hard—“Is he better?”

  “Yes. He is.”

  “Thank you, God.”

  I pick up the phone to call Ellie, but before I do, my cell rings. It’s her. “How is he?” Going by the trembling in her voice, she expects the worst.

  “He woofed at me.”

  “He did?” Her tone’s perked up.

  “Yeah. The vet thinks he’s going to make it.”

  The vet arches a brow. He never said such a thing. But I don’t care. I know. Butch’s going to be okay.

  “We’ll be right over,” Ellie says.

  By the time she and Kaylee arrive, Butch’s semi-awake. So naturally, Kaylee bursts into tears. And he, of course, wags his tail for her. Especially, when she strokes his beautiful head. “I’ll never leave you again, Butch.”

  “Now, honey,” Ellie says, “he’s going to have to spend some time in the hospital to recuperate.”

  “How long, Doc?” I ask the vet who’s stopped by to check on Butch again.

  “Three days. Give or take.”

  I can live with that as long as he does come home.

  Somehow, we pry ourselves from Butch’s side. He needs his rest and, frankly after having gone without shuteye for a day and a half, so do I.

  I crash as soon as I get home. But when the scent of apple pie drifts into the bedroom, I’m up like a shot.

  Ellie’s in the kitchen, apron over the small bump in her belly.

  How did I not know she was pregnant? I ask myself for the umpteenth time, scrubbing the sleep from my eyes. “Where’s Kaylee?”

  “Meghan’s house. I think she wanted to give us some privacy.”

  Smart girl. “And Butch?”

  “I called the vet. He’s eating.”

  “A good sign.”

  “Yeah.”

  She takes the pie from the oven and drops it on a cooling rack. As long as I live, the scent of cinnamon and apples will always remind me of her. She hangs her apron on a peg before glancing around the kitchen. “I’m going to miss this place. So many memories.”

  I hadn’t imagined her words. She intends for us to live together as a family. “We’ll make better ones in Charleston.” But first, there’s something I need to hear. “The thing is”—I clear my throat—“The thing is . . .”

  She leans back against the kitchen counter and folds her arms across her front. “What is the thing?”

  “I love you.”

  She grins. “I know.”

  She freaking knows? How could she? I hadn’t said it to her.

  “Okay. But the thing is . . .”

  She arches a brow.

  “You haven’t said it to me.” I rush it out at warp speed.

  “No. I haven’t.” She laces her hands in front of her.

  No, I haven’t? What the fuck? “As much as I love you. And I do.”

  Her serene smile resembles a Madonna’s. I really should have her painted that way.

  “I need to hear you say you love me back.”

  She tilts her head to the side. “And if I don’t?”

  I jam my hands in my jeans pockets. “I don’t think we can stay together.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Really.”

  “Okay.”

  Okay? What’s that supposed to mean? I rack my brains trying to figure it out while we pack up the house, make arrangements to sell it, hire workers to move our stuff. At night, we make sweet love in the bedroom. Days, we listen to Kaylee chat with Mitch. When her transfer to her new school is confirmed, Kaylee dances around the house like it’s Christmas, the Fourth of July, and her birthday all rolled into one.

  After five days in the hospital, Butch comes home. Moving a little slower than before, but still moving. Pretty much ignoring Ellie and me, he spends his days in Kaylee’s bedroom, only coming out to eat and do his business in the yard. The way she continuously blabs at him would make my ears bleed, but he just gazes at her with this adoring look on his face. And that’s exactly the way it should be.

>   To my surprise, Ellie decides to call it quits at her sports agency. After years of college and full-time jobs, she’s more than ready for a break. Sometime after the baby is born, she figures she’ll go back to work. Given her credentials, something’s bound to turn up.

  Two weeks later, it’s time for me to fly back to Charleston. Training camp is starting in a couple of days. Ellie is staying to deal with the last of the packing, but she and Kaylee and Butch will drive down in two weeks. Ruth will remain behind to handle the sale of the house, hers as well. Once that’s all taken care of, she and Steve will move down to Charleston. I’ve offered them a place in our home since it has plenty of room. But Ruth has her eye on a cottage by the water where she won’t be far from us.

  When it’s time for me to leave, Ellie and I head off to O’Hare. She still hasn’t said the ‘L’ word. So being the bigger person, I say it. Again. “I love you.”

  She smiles back.

  Fuck it. I’m not going to beg. I jump out of the car, grab my bag and huff it into the airport without looking back.

  Training camp with the Wolves is just as brutal as the Outlaws’. Except it’s worse because it’s ninety degrees in the field. We get longer breaks, but by the end of it, all I want to do is go home and chill with Ellie and Kaylee and Butch. As many times as we’ve talked since I left Chicago, she’s never once said she loves me. But I’ve finally come to terms with it. She doesn’t have to say it. I have enough love for the both of us.

  I pull up to the housing development’s front entrance, expecting the gate to go up. But to my surprise, the guard flags me down.

  “What’s up?” This guy knows who I am. Been in and out a zillion times.

  “Hello, Mr. Parker. Just wanted to let you know. We got word from the front office. You won’t have to worry about those, err, ladies dropping by anymore.”

  “Good to know.” Suspecting a guard at the front gate had been taking bribes, I’d filed a complaint with the management company. It appears they’ve finally worked it out. “That would be a problem since my wife’s here now.”

  He grins. “I know. Go on through.” He lifts the gate and I ride through.

  What was that all about? That codger had not once smiled at me, but today I could see all his front teeth. I shrug. He’s probably just trying to earn a big Christmas tip.