Page 62 of Stepping Up to the Plate

2:08 PM

Brady Bear

En route.

That last text came half an hour ago which means he should be here any minute. Tiffany emerges slightly more put together – hair in a messy bun, wearing a t-shirt dress. It’s an improvement over the PJs and rat’s nest she had going on earlier. She lets out a squeal as she opens the door.

“Holy shit!”

I glance up to see Brady mid-knock attempt. “Sorry,” he mutters sheepishly.

“No problem, big guy. Since you’re home now, you’re in charge of feeding the Bunny.” Without any other words, she ushers him in and takes her leave.

“Hi,” I say, lamely from the couch.

“Have you eaten anything today?” he questions. I again hold up the Pop-Tart and he shakes his head. “Come on, let’s get something substantial in you.”

Standing up, I slip on shoes and let my man take me to get something to eat.

ChapterTwenty-Nine

• BRADY •

Ihave déjà vu bringing Lola back to the diner. It’s hard to believe that was only three months ago. That reminder helps calm the emotions storming through me. My feelings for her are strong, but I need to remember that we haven’t known each other long and we’ve been in a relationship for even less time. We’re bound to have missteps at this stage as much as I like to pretend we’re beyond that.

I’ve tried not to be offended that Lola didn’t tell me about the court date. I’m furious she drove – yes, I found out she drove all by herself – to St. Louis without telling me. I was amused and a little jealous last night seeing the video of her sticking her face in Carina’s cleavage and pulling out a shot. If Tiffany hadn’t sent me a picture of Lola passed out in her bed snuggled up in one of my shirts, I would have worried about her all night.

It’s hard to remember most of those things, though, as I listen to her moan over pancakes in the same way she usually moans over my cock. “Good?” I ask.

“S’mazing,” she responds with her mouth full. She’s so fucking cute I can’t stand it.

“Good, those pancakes have a lot of alcohol to soak up. You’re in better shape than I expected.”

“I drank vodka water instead of vodka soda last night. It was gross but I think it helped hydrate me.”

“I’m not sure that’s a thing, but I’ll take your word for it.”

The rest of the meal goes on relatively quietly and I drive her back to our complex with the radio on to fill the space. “Come up to my place,” I say.

“Sure,” she replies. I didn’t technically ask her, it was more of a demand, but whatever as long as I get the same end result.

When we get to my condo, I lead us over to the couch and sit down with her facing me. I stare at her for a few seconds as she fidgets. “I’m guessing you know where I was this week and want to talk about it?” she assesses.

“Yeah, I think that would be a good idea. Why don’t you start by telling me why the hell you didn’t let me know you had to go to St. Louis to meet your ex-husband. He is your ex, right? The divorce was granted? I’m not sure since you never mentioned anything about this to me.”

She winces before annoyance flashes across her face. I know my tone came out harsh, but I’m angry. “Yes, I am now unmarried in the eyes of the law. And I didn’t tell you, because I didn’t want you to have to deal with it. It was my shit, and I needed to handle it on my own.”

“You know I want to help you, baby.”

“I know you do and I love that. But this was something I had to do for me. My dad always taught me that no one fights your battles for you. If I let you take over this one, I don’t know if I’d ever be able to face one alone again. I’d get too dependent on you.”

“Do it,” I state.

“Do what?”

“Depend on me. Lean on me. Use me to fight your battles. I’m your army to command.”

“That isn’t how it works,” she retorts. “I can’t go on the rest of my life letting you fight my battles.”

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