Page 105 of The Renegade Billionaire
Braxton turns to me with so many questions written on his face, as if he’s lost and needs directions.
“It’s fine with me. Your uncles will have to buy pizza because I can cook for an army, but not on such short notice.”
As soon as money comes into the conversation, Grey appears to snap out of it. “Done. Text me how many are coming, and I’ll take care of it.” Then he spins in place and gets in line at Blissy’s.
“Is he okay?” Sage asks, but I was asking myself the same thing.
“He’ll be fine,” Braxton says. “I think maybe we’re just realizing that some of our choices may not have been in your best interest over the years.”
“That’s stupid,” Sage says, tugging on his ear. “You did the best you could, and that was pretty great. I know that you know that, and I’m fine.”
“I know. I won’t hug you because I don’t want to embarrass you in front of the guys, but I do need to have a conversation with them.”
Sage wears the expression you’d expect of a seventeen-year-old at that statement, so I insert myself once again.
“I’ll go with him. Come on, guys.”
I walk toward the table that’s littered with play sheets and notes. “Hey, guys, this is Braxton, one of Sage’s uncles.”
“Hi, Mr. Braxton,” they say in unison. It’s almost cultish and it makes me chuckle. Coach B. has taught them well!
“Sage was a great soccer player. I hear you’d like his help?” Braxton asks.
“Yes, sir,” Ethan says, standing.
“And you know that he won’t be eighteen for another few months?”
Ethan nods. “Yes, sir.” The military precision of Coach B. is unmatched.
“Okay, Ethan. I’m trusting you.”
“If anything happens to him, I will destroy you and your families,” Grey growls over my head.
“Grey,” I gasp, spinning and pushing him back a step with a hand to his chest. “You can’t threaten people here.”
He stares every player in the eye. “Watch me.”
Ethan, who is over six foot four and probably two hundred and thirty pounds, swallows loudly.
Even Braxton seems taken aback. “Um, have fun. I’ll see you at home.”
Sage nods, spares one worried expression Grey’s way, then turns back to the team. “I’m ready.”
Braxton and I back out of the way as the group files out of the Chug.
“And wear your seatbelt,” Grey shouts into the quietly buzzing space.
“What’s that about?” I ask, unsure if I actually want the answer.
“We’ve been sort of protective of Sage.” Braxton’s back to rubbing that spot on his chest.
“I can see that. But you can’t smother him, you know? He’s growing up.”
He nods but doesn’t answer.
“Hey, Madi,” Rose, the church coordinator, says. “I have you and Pops signed up for the Thanksgiving feast. Will he be serving as well?”
I completely forgot that Thanksgiving was coming up. “Oh, yes,” I spare a quick glance in Braxton’s direction. He’s listening, but I’m not convinced he’s paying attention. “Well, I’ll be serving. Pops will be, well, Pops.”
