Page 21 of Wes
Chapter Eight
Wes
“Damn it, Wes!” Bridgette snaps when she realizes she no longer has my full attention. Her voice grates on my patience. “Excuseme, we’re talking.”
“No, you’re yelling and embarrassing our son. This conversation is done. Go home!” I turn my back on her and press my hand to Natalia’s lower back, guiding her away from the wretched woman Bridgette’s become. “Hi.”
Natalia grins. “Hi. Bridgette is—”
“A witch. I promise she wasn’t like this when I married her,” I say sheepishly and rub the back of my neck.
“The boys played well,” she says, ignoring me.
I smirk, my chest expanding with pride. “They really did. You came.”
She nods. “I did. I had to spoil the surprise and tell Jeremy this morning.”
My brows pinch for a second, processing her words. “Oh, yeah. I guess the timing would have been weird.”
“Who the hell are you?” Bridgette yells from behind me.
My jaw tightens, and I disregard the curious expressions from those still milling about. Unfortunately, some are now accustomed to Bridgette’s outbursts. I knew pursuing Natalia would eventually lead to my past and present colliding, but no way in hell is she embarrassing Natalia.
The need to protect Natalia and Jeremy from this coming scene becomes as potent as my need to protect Reece from his mother. She’s clearly unstable.
I turn on my heels to face her. “Bridgette! Lower your goddamned voice,” I growl, my attention flicking to Reece who’s talking to his friends but watching us closely.
“Don’t tell me what to do,Wesley!You’re not my husband.”
“Thank God for small miracles,” I mutter.
Natalia moves to my side again, and I resist the urge to move in front of her. “Hello, I’m Natalia Kruze, Jeremy’s mother,” she states, and I look at her outstretched hand.
Bridgette scoffs, and after a moment, Natalia folds her hands in front of her. Bridgette turns her head toward me, jealousy flashing in her eyes. “You sleeping with her?”
“Not your husband, so it’s really not your business what I am or am not doing. The game is done, Bridge. Go congratulate your son on his team’s win and go home.” I’m fucking exhausted. Each episode, no matter how big or small with her, leaves me feeling winded.
I feel Natalia lean toward me but resist the urge to wrap my arm around her shoulder. I’m not sure if the boys are ready for it, but mostly I don’t feel like adding another ten minutes to this scene.
“If you two are together, I should know who’s hanging around my boy!”
“Like you told Dad about Max staying the night?” Reece snaps, surprising me because I didn’t see him move.
Bridgette’s mouth flaps open and shut, backpedaling as she tries to come up with some asinine reply.
“Who’s Max?” I ask, not that I care some other man is dipping his dick in her but because I don’t particularly care for the way Reece said it.
Bridgette exhales loudly. “No one. Let’s go home, Reece.”
I make a move to follow her, wanting answers, but she turns away. Natalia’s small hand wraps around mine and tugs.
“Don’t,” she whispers, the effect stronger than any time Bridgette has yelled in my face.
“Reece!” Bridgette’s voice is shrill.
“He’ll be home in an hour,” I say, doing my damnedest not to yell back. Reece looks at me curiously but doesn’t speak. Bridgette huffs with displeasure, but I’m relieved she drops it. I cup the back of his neck and pull him against me and squeeze. “Let’s go celebrate your win.”
“’Kay, Dad,” he mutters, and I release him.
