Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 125852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 629(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 629(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
“Get used to it.”
“Oh, I’m happy to.”
I grin and he grins back. And then I remember there are others in the room and do my damnedest not to blush, but I really feel like I might. It’s ridiculous but it’s true.
I clear my throat. “You know, you guys were gone at camps way too much. You missed weeks of summer every year.”
“Had the boys not gone to that particular camp, you girls never could have gotten away with sneaking off to Tampa that summer without them finding out.” Tisha laughs. “They would have had a massive fit if they knew you girls were out there without them to watch over you.”
“Oh yeah.” Ben looks over. “Didn’t your dad tell me something about a guy you met out there ending up being on the team with Brady?”
A stiffness curls along my shoulders, and for some reason, I peek at Brady. “Yeah, Trey Donovan.” I nod, unease settling over me, though I’m not sure I understand why. I’ve never minded talking about him before, so why does it feel sort of wrong to do so right now? “He’s…gone now, though. Drafted last year, like Noah.”
“Impressive.” Ben nods, taking the seat across from me, his wife settling beside him.
Brady clears his throat, reaching out to take a drink of water, and I wait to catch his eye.
“Thanks for this. You didn’t have to make a stop just for me.”
He shrugs, looking away as quick as possible. “We passed it on the way home. No big deal.”
His dad laughs loudly, and Brady shoots him a small glare that has both my and his mom’s attention, though neither of us says a word. I certainly don’t point out that Bebe’s Brews is not, in fact, on the way home from where I know they buy their firewood.
“Let’s eat.” Tisha claps.
And so we do.
We pile our plates high, and everyone laughs when I skip over all the protein options and go straight for the giant waffles in the middle.
They ask us about school, and Brady talks about the team’s strategy for next week’s game.
“What a lucky straw you boys drew getting your second bye week Thanksgiving weekend!” Tisha says. “And the fact that Noah’s got a Sunday home game that weekend is like icing on the cake.”
“I know, I can’t wait.” Brady leans back, holding his belly. “I’m beating Noah’s ass at the turkey competition this year,” he says.
His dad laughs. “It’s crazy you guys are already taking over the traditions we had while you were all growing up. Makes me feel a bit sentimental to think about. I missed more than I’d have liked over the years.”
“Good thing you retired this summer, then. There are still so many memories to be made.” Tisha reaches out, squeezing his hand, and he leans her way, kissing her cheek.
“We never felt like you weren’t around, Dad. We were proud of you, and you were always home for the important things.” Brady’s words leave me feeling soft.
I watch the exchange with a smile, catching Brady staring at me from the corner of my eye.
“You know you guys can still change your minds and come out to the beach house.” I say this knowing it’s already a done deal. All the parentals booked a weeklong cruise for the holiday.
“And be the only people there over thirty?” Ben smirks. “I think not.”
“I mean, you really should have said over fifty, but I get it.”
Brady and Tisha laugh, but Ben puts his hand over his chest, feigning hurt. It’s such a Brady response, I can’t help but break the serious façade I was shooting for, my amusement joining in as I look from the man beside me to his dad.
“Man, Brady might not share your features, Ben, but you’re basically twins with all your mannerisms. I swear he’s one hundred percent you while looking nothing like you.” I grin.
Ben nods, a tender smile on his lips as he glances across the table at his son. “He is, isn’t he?” The pride in his voice is evident, and a warmth washes over me.
I turn to Brady. “I wonder if the cycle will repeat itself, and it will be the same way if you have a boy.”
“It will,” Brady says, a sureness in his tone. “He will be exactly the same.”
The expression on Brady’s face is one of pure gratitude, a deep-seated love only the luckiest are blessed with between father and son.
Ben’s smile says the same as he holds his only son’s gaze, his arm now wrapped around Tisha’s shoulders, but there’s a tension around his eyes as they move from Brady to me and back to his son. There’s a question within them that, at first, I don’t think he’ll ask just as his mouth begins to open. “Brady…have you never told her?”