Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91783 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91783 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
“We’ll be fine. Won’t we, Junie?”
“Pfft. Pfft. Pfft.” A line of drool drips down her chin.
Noah sighs, opens the door, and then jogs toward the SUV. Peyton’s arm waves out the window. I glance into the living room to check on Maverick. He’s inside the toy box, throwing toys over the side. With a slight shake of my head, I grab Juniper’s arm and we wave at her parents as they back out.
“Let’s hope that whatever Jace has, it doesn’t spread,” I say to Junie even though she has no idea what I’m talking about.
I sit on the floor, near Maverick, and keep Juniper in my lap. I hand her one of their many toys, but she doesn’t want that. She turns in my lap and uses me to stand. Juniper starts bouncing, babbling about her day. I take my phone out to start recording and she sits.
“What the heck, Junie?”
She babbles more.
“Do you want to call gramps?”
Maverick looks at me and shows me his bottom teeth.
“All right, I’ll take that as a yes.”
Noah and Peyton were good about calling us on video. We know it’s not the same but seeing them every day was a treat. They grow so fast, and I already missed Noah when he was a baby. I really don’t want to miss the triplets, which is another reason to stay home and not do a legacy tour.
I press Harrison’s name and Maverick crawls toward me. These babies know what the sound means. Harrison picks up on the first ring. His face fills the screen, and behind him I can see the far wall of his kitchen in California. He’s wearing a white T-shirt that shows every tattoo on his arms, his hair pushed back and standing at odd angles.
“Christ,” he says. “You look domesticated.”
“Shut up.”
“There’s my Junie.” Harrison leans closer to the screen. “Turn her around, let me see her face. Is she getting bigger? She looks bigger. Katelyn’s going to lose her mind when she sees her.”
Juniper lunges for the screen. Her palm smears across Harrison’s face. He laughs, and behind him I hear the crash of metal hitting a tile floor.
“Oliver James, put the spatula down!” Katelyn’s voice carries from off-screen. A second crash follows, smaller. “Both of them, Oliver!”
Harrison glances over his shoulder. “He knows how to get past the baby latches.”
“So much for baby proofing.”
“He opened the baby gate by himself yesterday. Katelyn cried. I was impressed.”
I adjust Juniper on my lap. She’s given up on the phone and is turning my watch strap over in her hands, pulling at the clasp. Maverick reaches for the phone. I turn it so Harrison can see him.
“Maverick, my man. Give gramps a high five.”
Nothing happens except more babbling.
“Where’s Jace?”
“Ear infection,” I tell him as I turn the phone back to me. “Nick’s got rounds so they took him over to the hospital instead of waiting for Dr. Frenemy to get home.”
“Dr. Frenemy?”
I lift one shoulder. “He’s a friend but still my enemy and you know what they say.”
Harrison laughs. “What’s up. You look stressed.”
“I am, sort of. There’s something I want to run by you and JD.”
“Let’s call him.”
Harrison exits the screen and then he’s back. We wait for JD to pick up. Harrison shifts and I catch the wince before he can hide it. His left shoulder dips. His right hand moves to the meat of the muscle above his collarbone, pressing hard, holding, then letting go. I recognize the gesture. I’ve been doing versions of it for years now, that small acknowledgment of a body keeping score.
“Your shoulder,” I say.
“It’s fine.”
“You winced.”
“I’m old. Everything makes me winces.”
He drops his hand. I don’t push it. I’ve watched Harrison play through cracked ribs, a torn rotator cuff, a stomach flu that had him throwing up between songs. He won’t bring it up, and I won’t force it. Not on a phone.
JD’s face appears in a second window on the screen. He’s outdoors, squinting against the California sun, earbuds in. Behind him I can see the glass wall of a gym. Inside, through the glare, a figure moves on a balance platform.
“Sorry, lads. She’s in the middle of her core rotation with Xander.” JD tips his phone toward the gym window. “See that? That’s my daughter. Ranked third in the world. Third. In the whole bloody world.”
“We know,” Harrison says. “You’ve mentioned it.”
“I’ll mention it every day until she’s first.”
Eden is deep in her Olympic preparation. JD has talked about little else for the past three months. She trains with Xander, Harrison’s brother-in-law, six days a week.
“Listen,” I say. “I need to tell you both about a thing.”
They go quiet. On screen, Harrison picks up a mug. JD glances over his shoulder at the gym, then back.
I tell them about Bex, about the pitch, and what The Love Line with Liam would be. “She came prepared,” I tell them. “She knew everything about me. Josie thinks I should consider it.” I forget to mention I already told Bex no.