Page 17 of The Curveball
After a few long, tense seconds, Brady drops to the bench, and turns to meet my gaze head-on.
“My full name is Brady Alexander Dixon. I’m twenty-six, and I have twin siblings who just turned eighteen. I play baseball for the Cedar Creek Thunder. I’m allergic to shellfish, and I hate folding socks. I know that’s not a lot, but now you know something about me.” He gives me a quick smile that has me biting the inside of my cheek to hold back one of my own.
“And I’m really happy to see you again. You’ve caught me off guard with your news, I won’t deny that. But make no mistake, I have no intention of walking away from you or our baby. I want to get to know you. And I want to be here for you both. For whatever you need from me. I might have only contributed some cells, but I’d like to be involved if you’ll let me.”
Then he pulls out his phone, tapping on it for a second before turning it to face me. “That’s Blair and Barrett, my sister and brother. I love them even though they can be pains in my ass at times. But if you let me in, I can guarantee you they’ll be the best aunt and uncle to our kid you could ever hope for.”
I blink slowly. “That was…well…that was more than I expected, if I’m being honest.” I suck in a breath, then blow it back out, making a snap decision that I hope I won’t come to regret.
“You can have my number, and we can get together soon and talk about it some more. But I need to know you’re serious about this.”
“How can I prove that to you?” he fires back, his gaze intently focused on me.
I shake my head. “I don’t know yet.”
“Okay, while you figure that out, if you’re okay with it, I’d like to be at all the appointments for the baby, and maybe check in once a day or so, just to make sure you’re feeling okay.”
“Um, yeah, that sounds good,” I say, fully aware Isound shell-shocked. And maybe I am. It’s slightly overwhelming just how easily he’s jumped on board.
“Great. Can we also set up some times to get together in person, just to be able to chat and get to know each other? I’m an open book. Whatever you want to know, you can ask. Maybe we could meet up for breakfast or lunch once a week or so.”
Now I feel like I’m dreaming. Is he for real right now?
“You’re just automatically willing to offer to do all of that? You barely know me.”
“All of that and more, if that’s what it takes,” he replies automatically. Then, he leans in slightly and lifts his hand as if to reach out and touch me before pausing and letting it fall. “I realize we barely know each other, and now we’ve been put together in a crazy situation. But I want to know you. Even if there wasn’t a baby involved, I’d still want to get to know you.”
Everything he’s saying is perfect. I want so badly to trust the gut instinct that made me go home with him that night. The instinct that said I would be safe with him.
Except, it’s not just me and my safety on the line anymore.
Still, I’m here to give him a chance. I reach over and take his phone from him, then add myself as a contact before sending a text to my phone so I have his number as well.
“Thank you,” he says quietly, pocketing his phone. “Are you feeling any better now?”
I feel my forehead wrinkle in confusion before I realize he’s not asking about my emotional state, butrather the nausea. “Oh, yeah. The snack helped. I really only get queasy if I haven’t eaten in a while.”
With a visible wince, Brady chuckles. “I realize this is totally not the same thing, but my brother gets super hangry sometimes, to the point of nausea. He’s got this ability to laser focus on things, and when he does, everything else is forgotten, including the need to consume food on a regular basis. I used to set literal alarms to remember to bring him a snack.”
Good grief, this man. “That’s really sweet. Your siblings are lucky to have you.”
A sad smile flashes across his handsome face. “Yeah, we’re lucky to have each other.”
Every fiber of my being wants to reach out and comfort him, to ask where that sadness is coming from. It’s the same magnetic pull that drew me to him that first night, when I was out of my chair and across the bar as soon as I saw a similar expression on his face.
But things are different now. And until I feel confident that Brady is as good of a guy as he seems to be, I have to keep my guard up. Which means not comforting the sad, yet incredibly handsome, baseball player.
Instead, I clear my throat. “Well, I should get going. My friend needs her car back pretty soon.”
“Yeah, sure.” He stands, then turns and holds his hand out for me. With an amused expression, I take it and let him help me up, even though it’s really unnecessary.
“Guess I’ll be doing a lot more of that in a few months,” he teases with a smirk.
“Are you saying I’m gonna get so big I won’t be ableto stand up on my own?” I snap back in a sassy tone, feeling a trace of my normally confident self come out.
It helps that his hand is warm and strong, the calluses bringing me back to another night, when those rough hands traced every inch of my body, lighting me up in a way I’d never experienced before.
He simply laughs. “I’m not walking into that trap, Hurricane.” The nickname makes my cheeks grow warm, and I turn my head so he doesn’t see. Dropping his hand, even as a part of me wants to hold on, I turn to pick up the bag containing my snack instead.
