I spin on my heels and Lindsey does the same, just in time to see one of her boys lift my boxer briefs in the air over their head.
My jaw goes slack. I rarely got in trouble when I was a kid. Other than my parents snapping at me for irrational reasons like being too loud while they were getting high, I was never in trouble. Perfect attendance at school. Quiet in the classroom. Never late.
This is my equivalent of being hauled to the principal’s office, it seems. And at the helm, a four-year-old boy swinging my underwear around his head like a helicopter propellor.
“They’re mine,” Lindsey says, snagging them from her son and promptly tossing them in her dirty clothes hamper in her closet.
“You have boys’ underwear?” Deacon has a future in law.
“Well, if you must know . . . I stole them from your dad. When we were in the same house together. I didn’t have pajamas that were clean, and so I took a pair of his underwear. I really like sleeping in them, so I simply never gave them back. And that’s that.” She claps her hands together in such a way the boys seem to understand that this case, at least as far as they are concerned, is now closed.
I leave the room without my underwear. And now Lindsey is going to have to keep them forever and probably wear them from time to time.
I got out of the house relatively unscathed for a guy caught red-handed. I even managed to get Holly fed and changed before I had to leave for the ballpark. And according to Lindsey, she is currently driving all the kids to her parents’ house so they canwatch them for an hour while she drives around the block and pretends to be getting an apology for setting a fire in the church when she was nine.
I’d love to hear her parents’ reactions to this, but that means they would have to know the real story, and I’m not sure how much Lindsey is going to share with them about that. I get the feeling she’s not ready to make what happened between us anything more than a secret for now. I’m bummed a little, but I also understand. Our lives are complicated, each in their own way. And Lindsey’s divorce isn’t official yet, so according to the state of Oklahoma, she’s one step away from wearing a scarlet letter. You’d think Brandon would be the one worrying about that. Laws turn a blind eye to men sometimes.
Most times.
I imagine Lindsey’s words in my head, and it makes me smile. My memories then drift to the soft curve of her hips, and the way they felt under my hands while I held her off the bed just enough to drive my cock inside her.
“You awake, Brooks?” Jayden snaps his fingers at me, and I shake myself from my daydream before reaching into the bucket of balls and setting another one up for him on the tee.
“Yeah, sorry. Had a late night,” I say through a yawn. It’s not a total lie. And having a baby is a good built-in excuse to be tired.
“I bet. I don’t know how you do it, man. My mom was always tired when me and my brother were growing up. She was a single mom and all that,” he says, lining up his bat and narrowing his focus to the ball before taking a solid hack.
“Do you talk to your dad?” I ask, setting up another ball.
Jayden eyes me skeptically, so I fill him in a bit on my situation.
“I’m curious because mine just got out of prison, is all. I barely knew the man from the time I was ten on. And my singlemom was basically useless, so . . .” I shrug, and Jayden’s gaze drops to his feet for a beat.
“Sorry, dude. I didn’t know. But hey, the dead-beat-dad club has some pretty cool members.” He holds his fist out and we bump knuckles. “My dad took off. He might be in prison. Who knows. But my mom is a saint. Sorry about yours. If you ever want a home-cooked meal and she’s in town . . .”
He makes the chef’s kiss motion, and I nod and laugh.
“Sounds good. I’m still banking on getting a meal at the Blackwoods’ one of these days.”
Jayden takes a swing then rests his bat on his shoulder and tilts his head as he glares at me.
“What?” I shrug.
“You mean Lindsey hasn’t cooked for y’all yet?” Jayden says it as if it’s something Lindsey is famous for and has done for everyone but me. I shift my weight on the bucket I’m sitting on.
“We haven’t exactly had time for family dinner. I’m busy, and when I’m home, that’s her time off. And she’s finishing her degree, so?—”
“Listen, all I’m saying is you need to drop the hint that you heard she makes shepherd’s pie and southern cornbread. Leave it at that and see if she takes the hint.” Jayden fishes out his own ball, sets it on the tee, and knocks it to the back of the cage.
“Haveyouhad her shepherd’s pie?” I lean forward and rest my elbow on my leg as I stare at him.
“Dude, I think you’re the only one who hasn’t, brother.” He snickers, then picks up another ball and takes one final hack before flipping the bat and pulling off his gloves.
I put in my hitting rounds for the next thirty minutes, and my hands are buzzing from my heavy swings. Despite the chaos I left in my wake, when I left the house today, things seemed clearer than they have for years. Lindsey’s going to need time, and I’m aware what happened between us can’t be a regular thing rightaway. But also, there was more to it than just two adults needing a release. I felt it. Iknowshe did, too. There was too much passion in our kiss. We said words with our bodies that neither of us has the courage to utter aloud. And if I need to ease her into the idea that we can do this, I’m willing.
I’m the last one in the hitting tunnels, so I spend my time cleaning up the place, resetting the stools and wiping down the machines to make sure they’re fresh for the guys hitting tomorrow. We travel this weekend, a road trip to the wonderous Ozarks for a series against the Royal Round Fish of Sutherlin County. I don’t know what a round fish is, but my guess is it’s a bit . . . well . . .round.
I’m making my way back to the clubhouse, my gear bag slung over one shoulder, when a car door opens from a beat-up, boxy sedan parked in the handicapped spot closest to the front entrance. I squint when the sun reflects off of the chrome siding on the door, but the second the door slams shut, I wish I hadn’t looked this way.
