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“Ready,” Paisley says, sliding into the room in her socked feet.
“Hold up, slugger. Let’s get your shoes on while your mom checks to make sure we have everything.” He pops her onto the counter, takes her shoes from her and proceeds to place them on her feet and tie them as if he’s done this with her a thousand times.
Easton Monroe is indeed a good one. One who has already captured my heart.We have a home game today and I’m stoked that Larissa and Paisley are going to be here. Last night I stopped by and dropped them off some T-shirts with the Blaze logo on the front, and Monroe and 20, my number, on the back. Hell, it turns me on knowing Larissa is wearing my name and number, and Paisley… pride thrums through me that my little princess will be cheering me on.
We had a mandatory team meeting, which means I had to be here extra early, so the girls are coming on their own. I hate that. I wanted to pick them up and show them around the stadium before it starts to fill up. Next time I’ll make it happen, because there will definitely be a next time.
“What’s got you staring at your phone?” Drew asks, leaning over my shoulder.
“Nothing, man. Ris said she would text me when she gets here and so far, nothing.”
“I’m sure she’ll be here,” he says, taking his seat beside me in front of his locker. “How are things going there? I feel like you never go out with us anymore. Away games, you rush back to your room, and when we’re home, you’re missing too.”
“Couldn’t be better,” I tell him honestly. “I’m crazy about her, about both of them.”
He nods. “Am I going to have to ask Larissa for permission for you to come hang out with the boys?” he jokes.
“Nope. I don’t need permission. I’d just rather be with them right now. Traveling takes so much time away, and when we go on long stretches on the road, it’s going to be hard to be away from them.”
“She hooked you.” He smirks.
“They both did.” Just as the words leave my mouth, my phone vibrates and a picture of the three of us that we took at the zoo, lights up my screen. “Hey, babe, you guys here?”
“About that,” she sighs, “we can’t make it.”
“What? Why? What’s going on?” I fire off questions. I was really looking forward to them coming today.
“P isn’t feeling well. She was complaining of her throat bothering her last night, then didn’t say anything else this morning. I thought maybe it was just allergy drainage. She started running a low-grade fever about an hour ago. I gave her some medicine to bring it down, and she’s snuggled up on the couch watching Pocahontas.”
“Can I talk to her?”
“Sure.”
I wait as she hands the phone to Paisley.
“East,” she croaks into the phone, and I feel like a dick for making her talk.
“Hey, princess. Don’t say anything, I just wanted to tell you to feel better. I’ll be right there as soon as my game’s over.”
“O-kay,” she croaks.
“Give the phone back to Mommy.” I hear shuffling while she gives the phone back to Larissa.
“Sorry—”
“Don’t be sorry for being an incredible mother. I hate that she’s sick and I’m stuck here. I’ll be there as soon as the game’s over.”
“You don’t have to do that. We can’t risk you getting sick. You leave Tuesday for a week.”
“All the more reason for me to be there. I need to see her. Do you girls need anything? What can I bring her?” I ramble on with questions before she has time to answer them.
“I was going to have Mom come stay with her so I could run out and get her some Popsicles and ice cream.”
“I’ll bring them on my way home.”
“Easton, it’s fine, really. We’ve got this.”
“I know you do, but I want to help. You just cuddle with our girl and I’ll be there soon.”
“Okay. Have a good game.”
“Thanks, babe.” We end the call, and the urge to race out of the stadium and rush to them is strong. So damn strong I grip my phone in my hand, a war waging inside me. I know it’s just a sore throat, but she’s never been sick, not since I came in the picture and… I don’t really know. I just feel like they need me.
“You good?” Drew asks.
“Paisley is sick, sore throat and a bit of a temperature. They’re not coming.”
“That sucks.”
“Yeah,” I say, still gripping my phone. Resting my elbows on my knees, I stare down at my cleats. How do the guys with families deal with this shit? My phone vibrates in my hand. Lifting my head to see who it is, I smile when I see Larissa’s name.
