Page 3 of Crossed Up

I’ve been hiding away small amounts of money every month for this exact reason.

Sebastian made me quit my job, so I did little things like clipping coupons so I could keep the change from my grocery allowance without him knowing, doing occasional side jobs like housesitting and childcare when he was at work, even selling off designer clothing pieces I had as a teenager that didn’t fit anymore.

I squirreled the money away, not knowing if I would ever have the courage to leave my fiancé. I guess some small part of me held out hope he would turn back into that doting man he was when we first got together, but it’s clear now that’s never going to happen.

After triple-checking how much cash is crammed inside the box, I bury it deep in the duffel bag and make my way back into the bedroom, stopping to take in the grand four-poster bed and antique furnishings worth more than most new cars.

As long as I’ve lived here, I never felt like this house was a home. It’s so much like a museum that relaxing has been nearly impossible, especially since the slightest mess would set off my now ex-fiancé.

If all goes well and I find somewhere safe to land, I’ll never set foot inside this lavish prison again. The thought isn’t as scary as I expected it to be.

Pausing next to the bed, it takes several tries to slip the tight silver band off my fourth finger, but eventually, I manage. The engagement ring has felt like a shackle for so long that a sigh of relief leaves my lips when I set the diamond on Sebastian’s bedside table.

I spare a single backward glance at my ex before leaving my phone, smartwatch, and anything else that can be tracked nestled inside the lining of the underside of the couch where he hopefully won’t think to look. After one last check for anything I may have missed, I walk out the front door, terror and excitement in equal measure fueling my steps.

It’s time to start over.

1

AIDAN

“Oh, you’ve gotta be f— kiddin’ me!” My voice is a quiet hiss as I glance towards my playing son, barely catching myself before saying ‘fucking’.

“I know, Mr. Black, and I’m so sorry. We simply do not have anyone available on such short notice to travel with you,” the accented voice on the other end of the phone says. “I wish you the best of luck in finding a suitable option, and should you need somebody in the off-season, please don’t hesitate to call.” The click tells me she hung up without waiting for a response, not that I can blame her.

The last in a long line of my son’s nannies was unceremoniously fired after I came home from a late practice to find her perched on my bed in nothing but skimpy lingerie while Crew slept down the hall. Needless to say, she won’t be getting a reference from me.

“You okay, Daddy?” My son’s sweet voice has me taking a deep breath in an attempt to quell my frustration. I do my best not to hide my emotions from Crew, but I also refuse to direct my anger at him in any way.

I’ve seen enough angry outbursts for both of our lifetimes.

“I’m okay, bud.” Reassuring my son is as easy as breathing, even as my mind spins with panic when I realize how royally fucked I really am.

We’re still in the thick of Spring Training, with our season starting up again in just over a month, and now I don’t have anyone to watch Crew here or for away games. My mama has a bad hip and can’t handle a wild, almost 6-year-old for more than a few hours at a time, let alone a week or more.

“Hey, why don’t you get dressed, and we’ll go see Auntie Wren?”

His eyes light up hearing my question, and even though I see the expression on him almost every single day, it still melts my heart into a puddle in his little hands. I would do anything for my boy, the least of which being both his dad and mom on a daily basis.

Listening to his screams of joy over seeing Wren brings a smile to my face in spite of the chaos rioting through my mind over this nanny situation. We’ve only known my best friend Rhodes’s fiancée for a little over a year, but she’s become an irreplaceable part of our ragtag family, and Crew and I love her just as much as we love Rhodes.

It really chaps my best friend’s backside sometimes that my little hellion prefers the pretty lady over his uncle Rho, given Rhodes has known Crew since he was barely knee-high to a grasshopper.

“Daddy!” My favorite boy shouts at me from upstairs, and I take the steps two at a time to get to him, cursing myself for being so lost in my own head. The same tendril of fear that wraps around my throat every time I hear him scream for me nearly chokes me until I make it to his room.

When it becomes clear he’s fine, I heave a relieved sigh and drop down next to him, planting a kiss on the top of his soft blond head. The kid looks just like me with his light blond hair and ice-blue eyes, and I can’t help but be selfishly grateful he favors my genes.

Crew is sitting at the end of his brand new “big boy bed” trying to tie his shoes without much luck, and I stifle a chuckle when I see his chubby fingers twisting the laces aimlessly.

Kneeling down, I tie the laces for him, making sure to go slow so he can see how I do it. I untie them again to his frustration, but give him a patient smile. “Try it again little raptor, I know you can do it.”

He groans but does as I ask, this time tying the laces like an old pro. His toothy grin lights up the room. “I did it, Daddy!”

I chuckle, ruffling his hair. “I knew you could! So, how are you likin’ your bed?” I ask, hiding a small smirk behind my hand. He begged me for months for this bed Rhodes showed him on a whim one night after binge-watching all five Jurassic Park movies.

So instead of the regular bed I had planned on getting him, there’s now a life-size replica of the freaking Jurassic Park Jeep in my son’s bedroom, surrounded by way too many dinosaur toys.

He stands up and wiggles his little behind in excitement, grabbing my hand to pull me out of the room. “I love it!” he yells excitedly. His inside voice is essentially nonexistent, but I’m working on it with him. “But hurry! I wanna go see Auntie and Finny!”

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