Ah, yes. This is why I’m nervous. As a contracted employee of Burton Field, I get to attend the family and friends Halloween party, and my family is here.
Everyone.
A brother, who is Ryder’s nemesis, had to come since Charlie insisted on trick-or-treating at the field, and how can he say no? He’s not on the schedule tonight, and one thing my brother isn’t is a disengaged dad. He was working last Halloween; he’s not missing this one.
But he wasn’t happy when his kid decided the baseball players were exactly who deserved to hand him his candy.
Drake tried for a solid hour to convince Charlie their neighborhood was perfect. My nephew told him they’d go to the houses later, but the field came first.
Honestly, the kid picked right.
All around us kids squeal in delight, dressed head to foot in costumes of their favorite heroes, or villains, or movie characters.
Charlie is dressed like Thor, his favorite superhero, and my mom has taken at least a hundred pictures so far.
“How long are we staying?” Drake whines.
“As long as the kid wants, you big baby.” I smack his arm and lead us through the first stands near the field gates. Bags of candy corn, fun-size candy bars, even a baseball shaped sugar cookie wrapped with spider rings and vampire teeth are stuffed into Charlie’s bag by the end of the row.
“Ava!”
I whip around. Skye Knight has baby Ever tethered to her chest. The baby is dressed in a tiger costume, and her little nose is painted black. I’m not sure I’ve seen anything cuter.
“Hi.” I step up to her, Charlie’s hand in mine. With my index finger, I tap Ever’s nose. “She is adorable.”
A little hand grips my leg. I look down and meet the big eyes of a little boy, maybe two at most. He’s bundled in a fuzzy frog costume with googly eyes on top of his head.
“Hi,” I say. The kid doesn’t look anywhere but at the baby. He reaches his pudgy hands up and grunts.
“Jude? Oh, there he is.” A guy with black and red dyed hair, and tattoos all along his arms steps behind the little frog. He doesn’t speak to the boy, but signs something with his fingers. His eyes fall to me. “Sorry about that. He has an addiction to Ever.”
Skye laughs and tickles the little frog’s chin. “Jude and Ever have an arranged marriage planned, I already told you, Rees.” She glances at me. “Ava this is Rees Hayden, the bassist in Perfectly Broken.”
At the introduction, more tattoos and colorful hair step around us. Skye introduces me to the entire band. My pulse races a bit. I’m not a huge rock fan, but I’m not oblivious to their level of fame. Unbidden, I’m a little starstruck to be here talking to famous rock stars and their families like we just came from the neighborhood barbecue.
I wave at Mason when he steps up behind the group, holding the hands of two little girls.
“Hey, how’s the f-field house coming?” he asks.
“Wait. Stop. Field house?” A woman shoves through, dragging a boy dressed up like a Vegas King—Parker’s number. She’s pretty, and has a frenzied look in her eyes, but a smile on her face. “You’re the one who’s tripping up Ryder? I have questions, and I need answers. The man is a grump, but the kind where you know there is the squishiest sweetheart underneath. Parker mentioned there was a history here, then told me to keep my nose out of it. Like he doesn’t know me at all. I’m Alexis, by the way.”
The next thing I know, her hand is outstretched, and I’m still reeling through the cyclone she brought with her.
Skye chuckles. “Ava, this is Parker’s sister. She’s our female Griffin.”
Ah, makes sense.
“Hi.” I shake Alexis’s hand. “Ava Williams. And yeah, I grew up with Ryder.”
“I’m not going to force any details, obviously, I’m not that impolite,” she says. “But Parker says he’s been a little different. In a good way. I’m so glad to meet you. Oh, and Tate—” She bends backward and grabs someone’s arm. In the next breath, Tate Hawkins is dragged to the front.
“Geez, Lex,” he says, until he catches my eye. “Oh, hi again.”
“I think it is such a small world that you know Tate and youbothgot involved in things with kids,” Alexis says. “What are the odds?”
Tate chuckles. “Small City Las Vegas, right?”
I grin. “Right.”
