Page 89 of Dibs
“We wouldn’t have missed it,” he replied.
We said our goodbyes, and they headed outside.
Looking around the room, everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. I spotted Dylan and Jase jumping around the dance floor while Tyler spun Cammie around. All four laughed as though they were having the time of their life.
“Should we give them their gifts now?” I asked Chase, who watched them with a grin on his face.
He nodded. “I’ll get the kids if you want to grab the presents. I had my mom stow them behind the bar.”
With the gifts in hand, I walked back to the head table where my family was waiting for me.
“Chase and I wanted to get something for each of you since today wasn’t just about the two of us getting married. It’s the start of us being a family forever,” I explained to the four of them.
“We love you all so much, and we want you to have a reminder of that love wherever you go,” Chase added.
I passed out the presents and watched as they unwrapped them. Dylan got his opened first and lifted the watch we’d selected for all three boys. Jase and Tyler checked theirs out and proclaimed they were pretty cool.
Finally, Cammie unveiled the charm bracelet we’d picked out, and her face lit up. “It’s so pretty.”
“There’s something engraved on the large charm,” Chase said. “It’s also on the back of the watches. Cammie, go ahead and read it out loud.”
She twisted the charm around so she could see it. “Today, I told your dad I do, and I promise you forever, too.”
The End.
Tyler Statler’s story is kicking off Kimberly’s and Rachel’s Forbidden Series. Pre-orderAfter Hour Lectures: A Forbidden Student/Professor Romance today!
Also, keep reading for a sneak peek ofTraded; Aron & Drew’s story!
CHAPTER 1
Aron
Playingbaseball was always in my blood.
My father had been a two-time MVP for the San Francisco Giants. He played outfield for them during most of his career, and I’d always wanted to follow in his footsteps. I busted my ass in school, getting a full-ride to Arizona State, where I was drafted during my sophomore year into the major leagues. I’d been the first overall pick in the MLB draft by the St. Louis Cardinals and played one season in the minor leagues before I was brought up to play right field when another player was injured. That was eight years ago, and I’d played right field for the Cards ever since.
The home fans loved me too. Whenever I came up to bat, my walk-up song would be drowned out by the roar of the crowd, and it fueled me. I couldn’t wait to feel the rush as I stood in the batter’s box, staring down the pitcher, and hitting the ball deep.
“Yo, Parker!” Nash hollered at me from across the clubhouse as I stood at my locker. We’d finished batting practice and were about to go back onto the field to start the game. “Coming out tonight?”
“Is water wet?” I rolled my eyes.
Chicks loved my eyes. I’d been told more times than I could count that they look like the ocean. They also loved my golden-brown hair, powerful arms, muscular legs, and impressive dick I used to make them scream my name.
“Cool. You wanna play winner between me and Forrester?” The guys and I always played pool at Stadium View, a bar across the street from the ballpark. We would drink beer and watch whatever game was still playing on the TV. Since there was a massive storm in New York, we weren’t leaving until the morning, which meant the guys and I would go to the bar and have areallygood time, probably not stopping at one or two beers.
“Fuck yeah.”
“Parker’s in!” Nash shouted to Forrester.
I couldn’t worry about pool or what was happening after the baseball game we were about to play. My head needed to be in the game because I had goals. While the team always strived to go to the World Series, I also wanted to be a two-time MVP, to make the All-Star team again, and to be the fucking best. My stats for the first part of the season were some of the best in my career, but I couldn’t carry the team alone. So far, we’d only won a game for every five we played or some shit, and it was unlikely we were going to the World Series this year because we fucking sucked.
Even though I had played for the Cardinals my entire career, I could potentially join a team that had a shot of winning it all when I entered free agency. It had been years—before my time—since the Cardinals won the pennant. When I was first drafted, the team seemed to be on a roll, going as far as the final games in the World Series but never winning. I wanted to be on a team where we had champagne raining on us in the clubhouse as we cheered for finally fucking doing what every professional ballplayer dreamed of. We hadn’t been farther than the second round of the postseason in several years, but my dream could soon come true because my contract with the Cards was up at the end of the season, and we had only half a season to go.
The team and I headed out to the field, warmed-up, sang the National Anthem, and then it was go time. By the fourth inning, I was two for two with a home run. We were still losing, but it didn’t matter because the fans gave methatrush every time I stepped into the batter’s box.
“Hey, Aron,” a woman purred behind me. I looked over at her from where I stood on deck, but I said nothing. “If you hit another home run, I’ll let you hit this.” She stood, running her hands along her sides, ensuring I got a good view of her ample breasts in her Cardinals tank top and her long tan legs in hershortshorts.
