“Yeah, Sloane. Daddy kiss.” Baker grins.
I roll my eyes playfully, not able to hide my grin, as I rise on my tiptoes and kiss Baker’s cheek.
Baker then kisses Camden’s forehead, and then mine too, knowing his son will more than likely demand it before he turns and carries Camden into the living room.
I watch the two of them together, and my heart soars. Today has been the perfect day, and I can only hope I’ll get to experience many more just like it with the two of them.
The Sinclair men are quickly capturing my heart.
Chapter Fifteen
Baker
* * *
The atmosphere in the stadium is electric. It’s the first official game of the season, and we’re on fire. We won all of our preseason games, and that has the team and the coaching staff more amped up for today’s matchup. So far, it’s been warranted. We’re at the start of the third quarter and up by fourteen points.
For me, it’s more than that. My son is here today. Sloane has him in the suite with her, and I’m stoked. Sure, he’ll never remember this, but I will.
It’s been two months since Sloane started helping me with Camden, and life has been so much better with her around. Don’t get me wrong, Mrs. Ward was great, but I didn’t come home to laughter and smiles. I came home to a quiet, maintained home. My son was happy, fed, and well cared for, but with Sloane, he’s thriving.
He’s talking up a storm, and she’s teaching him so much. He’s counting and learning his colors and shapes. I know she’s a teacher, and that’s what she does, but damn, to see the difference her influence is having on my son hits me in the chest.
Glancing up at the suite, I see Sloane standing with Camden on her hip. She’s pointing down to the field, and I wave to him. He waves back, and I grin. I fucking love that they’re both here today.
“How’s that going?” Knox asks, nodding toward the suite.
“Good, man. She’s teaching him so much.” I smile and shake my head. “He’s a little genius.”
Knox laughs. “Of course, he is. He’s got good genes.”
The whistle blows, and our offense takes the field. We quickly form a huddle as Knox calls the play.
The huddle breaks, and my heart races as I settle into position behind Knox. My fingers twitch on my thighs. My cleats dig into the turf, and my heartbeat roars louder than the crowd.
Knox calls the play. “Blast right. Blue 42. Blue 42. Hike!”
Ball’s coming to me.
I glance left. The linebackers are creeping in. They know the play. Doesn’t matter. I’m faster.
Our center, Greg McCormick, snaps the ball, and it slaps into Knox’s hands perfectly, and I’m on the move. I have a half a second of hesitation, then bang, I explode left, then cut back hard right. The O-line crashes like a collapsing wall. I spot the gap. Just enough daylight between the guard and tackle.
I hit it.
Low. Fast.
Helmet first, legs churning like pistons. Pads crack around me. A hand brushes my hip, but it’s too late. I’m through the line.
Ten yards. Safety’s coming downhill like a missile.
I shift the ball to my left arm, drop my shoulder, and boom. We collide, but I manage to stay on my feet. My world rattles, but I don’t stop. He stumbles, and I spin off. My feet barely touch the turf, and I’m still upright, so I keep moving. Keep pushing.
Fifteen. Twenty.
I see the sideline, hear the crowd. Their voices are loud, but not loud enough to drown out my thoughts—the ones that say my son, and my… Sloane are up there watching me. That’s my motivation to dig deeper and side-step another defenseman.
Cornerback’s closing in. I pump my arms, gripping the ball as if my life depends on it.
