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She drank more of her water. “That line about the bat…that was good. Sounds like something your mother would say.”
“Who do you think gave me the bat?” Wes walked over to the window and looked out of it again. “I don’t trust this guy to act in his own best interest. You’re staying with me tonight.”
“Wes, I appreciate what you did. I really do. But I’m fine. Alex won’t be back.”
“Didn’t seem like he was too good at taking a hint or following instructions.” Wes crossed his arms, his expression grave. “Guys like that are unpredictable. You never know how far they’ll take things. Do you have a restraining order against this guy?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Then get one.”
“I don’t want the negative publicity, especially with the tournament coming up. Nor do I want to be seen as a victim.” She paced the floor. “That would tank my endorsement stock ten times faster than a male athlete being convicted of an actual crime.”
“You don’t want to be seen as a victim. I get that, but I’m far more concerned about you actually becoming one.” A deep frown made his brows appear as angry slashes. “This isn’t something to play with.”
“And it isn’t fair. I never asked for this.”
Wes cupped her cheek and spoke softly, his eyes filled with concern. “I know it isn’t, honey. But the priority is to keep you safe. You believe that taking action against this guy will make you look weak, but it will empower you. You, in turn, can empower other women dealing with the same bullshit. You want to help people? This is a way to do it.”
“Okay.” Bree nodded begrudgingly. “I promised Bex I’d get the police involved if the situation escalated.”
“You should’ve told me about this guy earlier. We could’ve put a halt to this before it got this far.”
“I know that we’re friends, and you want to help, but I’m not looking for a man to save me. And I don’t need a knight in shining armor who walks away the first time he gets freaked out or things get tough.”
“Fair enough.” Wes wiped his palms on his black basketball shorts. “Now, about why I have trouble saying…” He sighed, then stood again. “It’ll be easier if I show you.”
* * *
Wes led Bree through the patio door and over to his place. He went to his bedroom and retrieved the most precious thing he owned. A black leather photo album with gold lettering on front.
His heart hammered in his chest as he handed the photo album to Bree.
What would she think of him once she knew the truth?
He didn’t doubt her discretion. But would she look at him differently? See him as the monster he saw in the mirror?
Bree seemed as nervous as he was. She opened the book reverently. As if it was an artifact that needed to be handled with care.
She studied the pictures on the first two pages. Pictures of the same little boy at various ages from newborn to about twelve years old.
“He’s your son.” She nearly whispered the words, her fingers delicately tracing the boy’s nose and mouth. Mirror images of his own.
“Yes.” Wes nodded, taking the seat across from her. “His name is Gray Grammerson.”
Her eyes lit with recognition. “The facing capital Gs that form the door of the cage on your tattoo. That’s for your son.”
Wes didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.
She turned more pages. “Most of these photos were taken from a distance. So you obviously don’t share custody of him.”
“Right again.”
“So he lives with his mother?” Bree stopped turning the pages.
“Not his bio mom. She gave him up for adoption without ever telling me. In fact, I’d never have known about my son had it not been for a mutual friend from university.”
“That’s awful. Why would she do that?”
“Probably because she didn’t think I was worthy of being a father to our child. We weren’t together by the time she learned about the pregnancy. I think she also wanted to punish me for hurting her.”
Bree raised an eyebrow. “What did you do to make her hate you?”
