Homestands (Chicago Wind #1)

by Sally Bradley

  “Everyone will be there? Betsy? Linda?”

  “Nieces, nephews, and grandniece.”

  Seeing Patty and Davis didn’t appeal, but she missed Betsy and Linda. They’d been the big sisters she’d never had. “I’m sold. But who gets to tell Terrell?”

  Mike gave her his best puppy-dog look. “Me? Please?”

  She laughed. “I guess, since you are the all-star.” She rested her head against his arm. His muscles pulled as he shifted toward her. “Thank you for doing this, Mike. I was nervous, dating you with people watching.”

  “I know. No normal dates for us.” The distant look she’d seen at home returned. “Meg…”

  She held her breath. What bomb would he throw at her? What woman or story—

  “I should probably tell you I’ve been getting some strange mail.”

  Was that all? She let out her breath. No more imagining. She’d have to trust him. “What kind of mail?”

  “Photo copies. Old articles about my injuries.”

  “Your arm?”

  “No, my dislocated shoulder four years ago. It’s somewhat mundane, but there’s no return address, no message really.”

  She opened her mouth to dismiss his concern, then remembered how accurately he’d pinpointed Ben. “You seem nervous about them.”

  “I’m not nervous.” He shot her a grin. “Uneasy. I found a note taped to my garage door last night.”

  “Someone was at your house?” She pictured a hooded man raising a crowbar over Mike as he stood outside his garage. “Mike, you have to tell the police.”

  “I did. They took the note.”

  If he’d already called the police, he was more concerned than he let on. “What did it say?”

  He eyed her.

  “You can’t not tell me what the note said. I’ll worry.”

  “You’ll worry if I tell you.”

  “Now I’m officially worried.”

  He laughed.

  She smacked his hand. “What did it say?”

  “It said… It was a little personal this time.”

  Something about her? Or Terrell?

  Mike raised his eyebrows. “Don’t blow this out of proportion.”

  “Michael.”

  “All right. It asked if I’d had a good day.”

  A good day? Her mind drifted to Friday and the way they’d been alone in the open. Had someone been watching them?

  “I knew you’d take this too seriously.”

  “Like you’re not. What are you going to do?”

  “What am I supposed to do? The police know. Nothing’s going to happen anyway.”

  He was saying that for her sake. She wrapped her arms around herself. “The police had better find this stalker.”

  “They will.” He tipped her chin his way until their eyes met. “No stalker’s going to get the best of me, though. Or of my first date with you.”

  He was right. Tonight belonged to them. Whoever was hassling Mike—Ben, someone else—he wasn’t here. She relaxed and returned his smile. Mike was capable of defending himself, despite having one arm.

  “Do you know what I wanted to do?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “I wanted to write him back.”

  She leaned closer, whispering into his smile. “What would you have written?”

  “That I had an incredible day with the most beautiful woman.”

  How she’d missed him, missed the way he made her feel special. Now it was time to make him feel special too. “I love that, Mike.”

  His eyes darkened with emotion. “Good.”

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  To preserve the illusion of a true first date, Mike walked Meg to her front door and asked her to tell Terrell he’d see him at church in the morning. Tonight he wanted to relive how he’d felt thirteen years ago when he’d dropped Meg off that very first time.

  He hadn’t remembered the drive home then, and as he opened the garage door that led to the mudroom, he realized he didn’t remember this drive, either. All he could think about was Meg curled up beside him, her face calm and happy with those green eyes that captured his attention. He could still feel the shape of her hand, slender and soft, in his. A faint trace of her perfume lingered on his right sleeve. What a perfect night, marred only by the fact that it had to end.

  He caught himself whistling as he tossed his keys onto the kitchen counter. How long since he’d walked around his house, whistling?

  His stomach rumbled.

  He backtracked to the refrigerator. Well, it had been over two hours since his last bite of food. And he had been too distracted by the company to eat much. He scanned the contents. Nothing he could assemble in less than thirty seconds. Time to have Maria stock up again.

  Or go back to Meg’s. Eat there. With her.

  He leaned over his phone. Should he call her? Yes, it was late, but—

  The phone rang.

  Mike jumped, a swear word launching from his mouth. He balled his hand into a fist and shook it. That was a habit he had to change. He raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Sorry.”

  The phone rang again, and Mike answered it. Meg must not have wanted the night to end, either. He could hear the grin in his voice. “Hey.”

  “Mike?”

  His smile faded.

  The woman sounded breathless as if she was surprised he’d answered. “Mike, this is—”

  He pressed the end button and stared at the phone as if it was a traitor. Why had she called?

  The phone rang again.

  Not Meg’s number.

  Man, he should have looked at that the first time. He answered and spoke immediately. “Don’t call me.”

  “Mike, listen—”

  “I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.”

  “One minute, please—”

  “No, Brooke!” Her name felt like an explosion in the suddenly quiet room. He swallowed, his mouth dry. “Don’t call me. Ever.”

  Again he ended the call, this time blocking her number.

  There. That was done.

  He set the phone back on the counter and looked around the empty kitchen.

  He wasn’t hungry anymore.

  In his bedroom, he sat on the edge of his bed. The silence circled him while memories of his betrayal of Meg played, memories he would never be rid of. His stupidity would always be a part of who they were. They could never go back to what had been before.

  Especially not with Brooke trying to butt her way back in.

  He gave in to the old fear and guilt and let tears fall into his hands.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  “Here. Catch.”

  From the bottom of his basement stairs, Mike tossed a bottled water to Adam Destin who was sprawled across the couch, texting on his phone. The Rangers had gotten in late the previous night. Like last year, Adam was staying in one of Mike’s guestrooms for the four-day visit.

  Adam set the bottle aside, still texting. “How’d the interview go?”

  “Fine.” Mike dropped into a chair and finished off his water. “I do a call-in interview with those guys every couple weeks so I know them pretty well. They don’t give me much grief.”

  “That’s cool. Hey, Shauni says hi.”

  “Oh. Tell her hi. What, do you guys just text when you’re gone instead of talking?”

  Adam looked up long enough to smirk at him. “No, she and some friends are at the zoo with the kids. So I just sent her a quick text. Speaking of women, what about Meg? I forgot to ask last night. How’s that going?”

  “We’re good. Just went on our official first date.”

  “You’re back together?”

  “Since Friday. But so far, so good.” As long as the past stayed out of their way.

  “Shauni will be happy to hear that.”

  “Yeah. By the way…” Mike waited for Adam to look up from his phone.

  He didn’t.

  “Dude, did you give my number to Brooke?”

  A
dam looked up. “Uh, yeah.” A sheepish smile covered his face. “I guess she called?”

  “Yeah, she called.” What was Adam thinking? “What are you giving her my number for?”

  “Well…” Adam set his phone aside, scratched his head. He gave Mike an apologetic look. “Did you talk to her?”

  “Of course not. I blocked her number.”

  “Connor.” Adam groaned. “Dude, you shouldn’t have done that. You need to talk to her.”

  “Now you’re on Brooke’s side? You want me to get back with her?”

  “No—”

  “Then why are you giving her my number?”

  “Mike, look. I got a call from her Saturday—”

  “Because I wouldn’t talk to her.”

  “Wait.” Adam held up a hand, palm out. “She called me Saturday morning.”

  And must have given him quite a sob story to convince his friend to hand out his number. “She’s using you, Adam. That’s what Brooke does. She uses people.”

  “Hey, listen. I know that, okay? But she told me what it’s about.”

  “I don’t care what it’s about. Do you know I had just gotten home from my first date with Meg when she called? Do you know what it would do to us if I talked to her?”

  “You’re not gonna have a choice, man. If you don’t talk to her, she’ll come find you.”

  Was he serious? “You’re nuts, Destin.” Brooke had done enough—Mike wasn’t letting her ruin this chance with Meg too. “Nothing she could say is that important.”

  “You might be wrong.”

  “Then you tell me.”

  “Mike…” Adam looked away. “I wish I could.”

  Mike groaned.

  “Seriously, man. I told her I’d let her… talk to you. I know you and Meg are working things out, but consider that I’m asking you to listen to her. One last time.”

  No way would he talk to her. Mike shook his head. How could he? How could he do that? He picked up his empty bottle, shook it, watched droplets inside merge into one.

  Nothing would be worth the risk.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Meg’s reunion with Mike’s family took place in San Francisco’s airport, outside of baggage claim.

  “Meg!” Linda, Mike’s oldest sister, wrapped her in a tight squeeze. “I’ve missed you, girl. Look at you, just as pretty as ever.”

  Chris, Linda’s husband, hugged her as well. “At last, another in-law,” he joked.

  Meg returned his smile. “I hear you two are grandparents. Congratulations.”

  “Thanks. I’ll pull out my stack of pictures in a minute.” Linda let go of her arm to lean down to Terrell. “But first I’d like to meet this guy.” She held out her arms. “Hi, Terrell. I’m your Aunt Linda.”

  Terrell gave her a tentative hug, looking up at Meg. “Does this mean I have cousins?”

  Linda pulled back and winked at him. “If I’m a grandma, you’d have to have cousins, wouldn’t you?”

  He sent Meg a confused look.

  “Your cousins are over there.” Meg pointed past Linda and Chris to Mike with his niece Heather and her husband who pushed a stroller.

  Terrell shook his head. “They’re too old to be my cousins.”

  “Sounds like Mom when she found out she was pregnant with Mike.” Linda laughed. “‘Too old.’ There’s your other aunt, Terrell. And the rest of your cousins. Are they young enough?”

  Behind Mike and Heather, Betsy—Mike’s other sister—walked with her two boys, thirteen and ten, and Linda’s other son and daughter.

  Meg caught her breath.

  Betsy’s face was lined, and her once blonde hair had faded to a grayish taupe. She looked years older than forty-five, years older than her big sister, the grandma.

  Meg didn’t wait for Betsy to reach them. She jogged past Mike and Heather to her former sister-in-law. “Betsy,” she whispered, pulling her into a hug.

  Betsy let go of her suitcase and wrapped her arms around Meg.

  She couldn’t cry. Meg closed her eyes. She wouldn’t cry.

  When they finally separated, they wiped damp eyes at the same time, then laughed together. Meg hugged her again. “Your boys have grown so much.”

  “Yours too.” She nodded at Terrell, who stood with Mike and his grandparents. “There’s no doubt he’s a Connor, is there? Mom says Dad couldn’t be happier.”

  “I’m glad.” Maybe she’d been forgiven.

  Betsy kept her arm around Meg’s waist as they joined the rest of the family. She pointed to her boys, Erik and Gavin, who already had Terrell laughing. “No need to introduce them.”

  “I guess not.” What had Betsy been through that had aged her so much? “Betsy, I’m sorry I never noticed.”

  “I made sure no one noticed, but thank you. And I’m sorry about my kid brother. Let me know if you want me to knock him around some.”

  Betsy’s words formed a lump in Meg’s throat, the ugly fear that Mike might someday repeat his affair ringing through her mind. She’d forgiven him—why couldn’t she shake these thoughts and memories? What would it take for her to forget and move on?

  Mike joined them. He raised his eyebrows at Betsy in mock alarm. “Forming alliances already?”

  “He doesn’t take me seriously, but he should,” Betsy said. “I’ve learned some moves.”

  Mike tugged his sister into a hug which she returned. “How’s your back?”

  “Bearable. Thanks for the seat upgrades.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  The three of them followed the rest of the Connors. Mike walked in the middle with an arm around Meg. People tried to stop him, but he refused. He lifted a finger from Meg’s waist, pointing to the group ahead. “I’m with my family. Not now.”

  His family.

  His finger fell back against her, and she tightened her hold on his waist as they walked. She’d forgotten how good family felt.

  Fans in the packed stadium cheered as a Seattle player launched another ball into the night sky. Terrell’s eyes popped wide open as the ball sailed over fans beyond right field and into McCovey Cove.

  From behind a screen, the pitcher tossed another ball. The batter swung, and the ball followed the previous one’s path. The stadium noise rose another level. Little Katie Destin, sitting beside Mike with her dad, plugged her ears with her fingers.

  Mike scanned the stadium from his grassy seat in front of his league’s dugout. The biggest names in baseball sprawled around him with their children beside them dressed in miniature jerseys. Mike looked at Terrell, who sat between his legs, dressed in a matching Connor jersey. Tonight topped every other night, all because Terrell was here.

  Mike craned his neck to look into the stands where his family sat. He’d managed some pretty amazing seats for them a little farther down the third baseline and could just see them. His three nephews huddled together, jaws slack as another bomb cleared the park. His parents sat together, as usual, with Linda deep in conversation with Mom. Meg sat sandwiched between his sisters, but her eyes were not on the home runs. They were locked on him.

  He sat up a little straighter to get a better view of her.

  She smiled at him, waved.

  Mike winked back.

  In his arms, Terrell leaned back, releasing an enormous yawn, his eyes drifting closed.

  Mike chuckled. Terrell would fall asleep the second they left the park.

  Their busy day had started with an early visit to Alcatraz, where Mike discovered how little of his Chicago heritage Terrell knew when he’d asked who Al Capone was, then a trip to Chinatown via cable car. Tomorrow, if they had time, they’d take in the Golden Gate Bridge—and make another stop for ice cream at Ghirardelli Square. Meg, Linda, and Betsy insisted.

  By the time the Home Run Derby ended, Terrell’s eyes were slits he struggled to keep open, and before their cab reached the hotel, he snored softly.

  Mike carried him into the hotel’s lobby.

  “Mr. Connor.” A man
behind the registration desk held up an envelope. “For you, sir.”

  So much for checking in under an alias. Mike shifted Terrell’s dead weight high on his shoulder so he could take the small gold envelope. Across the front, his name and the hotel’s address were written in an unfamiliar script. “Thanks.” He stuffed it in his pocket and returned to where Meg waited.

  On their floor, Mike followed Meg to her suite and waited while she unlocked and opened the door. She stepped aside, and he walked through the living room to the bedroom and put Terrell on the bed Meg pointed to.

  Still asleep, Terrell curled into a ball.

  Mike tugged Terrell’s tennis shoes off and dropped them beside the bed. “Where are his pajamas?”

  Meg motioned for him to leave the room. He did, and she shut the bedroom door behind them. “I’ll let him sleep in his clothes. He needs a bath tomorrow anyway.”

  “Fine with me.” Mike pulled her close and leaned down for a kiss before she could speak. Her lips were soft and tempting. “I’m glad you came.”

  “Me too.” Even though she smiled up at him, she pushed herself back a little, a bit stiff in his arms.

  His gaze drifted back to her lips. He wanted to kiss her until she relaxed.

  “Mike,” she warned.

  He smirked. “Is that a no?”

  “You should probably go. This won’t look good.”

  He glanced at her hotel room door. “No one can see in,” he teased.

  “Exactly. So you should go.”

  “All right.” He released her, and she stepped back. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  She nodded. “I’ll call you when we’re up.”

  “I’ll be waiting.” He opened her door, wanting to go back for one more kiss. Instead he gripped the door handle. “Goodnight, Meg.”

  He shut her door behind himself and walked past his family’s suites to his room. Inside, the living room was silent and dark. He left the lights off, pulling open the shades to look over the city. The night was clear, and the city lights rose and fell beneath him.

  Mike left the shades open and turned on the TV. The Home Run Derby was replaying already. He sprawled across a chair, content to let baseball clear his mind.