“Bullshit,” Roman scoffed.
“Yeah, that’s what Hell is for,” Tuck added, pointing toward his boyfriend. He traced the outline of a heart across his chest like something out of a cheesy music video. “Besides, this isyourdadchelor party. We put this together for you.”
“Yeah,” Soren added, grinning like a wolf. “Can’t be a dadchelor if the dad won’t play.”
Pink stepped forward, separating himself from the herd. “Besides, Dani told us we have to get photos of you.”
I arched my brow.
Of course she had. I should’ve known the guys couldn’t have pulled this whole circus off without some help. Giant, inflatable babies, bottles full of beer, diaper races in the infield—this had Dani’s fingerprints all over it.
The woman didn’t want a baby shower for herself, but she was more than happy to throw me a dadchelor party. She was always thinking of me, of us. Always finding ways to make sure I didn’t just shoulder the weight, but felt the joy, too.
Hell, she knew me better than I knew myself.
Left to my own devices, I’d have spent the break in my office, reviewing tape. But Dani? She wanted me out here laughing my ass off, drunk and ridiculous, surrounded by the people who had, much to my reluctance, become something like family.
And damn if I didn’t love her more for it.
I huffed, shaking my head, but the truth was . . . I kinda wanted to. Just this once. “Fuck it,” I said, twisting the cap off another beer. “Let’s do it.” A chorus of cheers went up from the team, their voices echoing through the stadium.
I held up my hand. “But if any pictures end up on social media, it’s one-thousand burpees for all of you.”
Within minutes, I was lined up with the rest of them for Roman’s cursed invention—baby food beer pong. Red Solo cups lined the dugout bench, half filled with pale ale, half with suspicious jars of various pureed vegetables.
Way to ruin carrots for me.
Somewhere around my third round of bottle chugging, the stadium started to spin. The guys were a blur of laughter, shouts, and smeared eye black, and for once, I wasn’t the steady one in the center of it. I was just Brooks, drunk off my ass in an empty stadium, letting the men I trusted most take care of me for a change.
And god, it felt good.
“Coach, you’re fuckin’ wasted,” Matty howled, doubling over as I tried to Velcro a diaper onto the baby doll in my hands.
“Am not,” I slurred, jabbing a finger in his direction. “I am perfectly capable of diapering a baby.”
“Headfirst?” Bennett teased.
Fuck. Maybe I am wasted.
I turned, squinting until my eyes landed on Pink. He wasn’t chanting—just sitting on the third base line, a small smile tugging at his mouth.
I staggered over, dropped down beside him, and grabbed his shoulder with all the solemnity in the world. “Listen to me, kid,” I slurred. “I love her. She might be your friend, but she’s my whole damn life. I wake up thinking about her. I fall asleep thinking about her. That woman isitfor me. Forever.”
Pink blinked at me, caught between laughing and rolling his eyes, but his grin softened. “Yeah, coach. I know. She loves you, too.”
I thumped my chest with the heel of my hand. “No, but you don’t understand. I would do anything for her. And our baby.Anything.”
Pink’s grin shifted, something sparking behind his eyes—mischief, sure, but also that protective streak he carried for Dani. He leaned in, voice low. “Anything?”
The next few hours blurred together—being half-carried up the tunnel to somebody’s SUV, a few of the guys bribing a tattoo artist with seats behind home plate, the delicious burn of a needle scraping across my chest. It wasn’t until I got out of bed the next morning, head pounding like drums at a Killers concert, that the full weight of it hit me.
I stumbled into the bathroom, blinking against the sunlight streaming through the window, and froze.
There it was.
A kitten.
Holy shit.
