Later, as a movie played on the TV and they shared the recliner, Claire leaned into Liam's strong fingers massaging the back of her neck. "I'm sorry tonight didn't go as planned, but thank you for being here."
"I'm sorry your sister is hurt, but I had fun. Is Lauren the one who texts you all the time?"
She glanced at her sister sleeping on the couch beside them. "Yeah. She really is a good kid, just dramatic."
"You mentioned your dad and your sisters, but not your mom. Is she...?"
"She isn't a part of our lives. Hasn't been for fifteen years. Her choice." She'd grown accustomed to stating the story matter-of-fact. Without emotion. Bitterness and anger depleted long ago after she'd realized those emotions only served to hurt her. Forgiving her mom then letting her go had allowed Claire to heal.
"I'm sorry."
"It's all right. I did the best I could to make up for her not being here. Even if we fight sometimes, my sisters know I'll always be there if they need me."
"Sounds like they rely on you a lot."
"For a long time they did, but only Lauren really does now. The others are a little older. The twins are seventeen, Jen's nineteen, and Amanda is twenty." She leaned her head on his shoulder. "I'd do anything for them, but I really enjoy waking up in my own apartment now and not have to worry about anyone but me. Oh god, that sounded selfish."
"No, it sounded honest. It's not selfish to live your own life. You've missed out on a lot playing mommy since you were a kid. Time they became as self-sufficient as you are. And time for you to have some fun." He shifted his hand into her hair. "I'm always ready to have fun. So, you know, we should have fun together."
"I like the sound of that." She needed someone like Liam in her life. A born entertainer, an unending stream of jokes and laughter followed in his wake. So did a sense of joy. He was intuitive and caring. She loved the way he melted for the kids. And how the fiercely passionate man called to her on every level.
Yes. Just the man she needed—just the man she wanted.
For now.
She'd never wind up like her dad. Never test the strength of a promise.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SLADE
THERE WASN'T ANYTHING like flying. Or skydiving. The plane's door opened and Slade made his way to the back. He stepped to the edge and stared at the earth thirteen thousand feet below. With a grin, he gave the pilot a thumbs-up and jumped into the air. The first minute of free falling was an intense rush. His heartbeat thundered and adrenaline coursed through his veins, but after the parachute opened, the flight was quiet and inspiring. Nothing but the sky above him and the mountains below him. Seven glorious minutes where he could just be.
He'd had a decent game to start off the road trip last night, going three for four in his at-bats, including a walk-off home run in the ninth inning that helped his team win the game, but he hadn't seen Savanna in six days, hadn't spoken to his sister in a week, and still had no idea when his birth parents could meet him. The restlessness in his soul rattled loud and constant.
Which was why he'd woken up early, sneaked out of the team hotel, and spent the morning airborne.
Too soon, his boots touched the ground. He came in soft, probably the best landing he'd ever done. After releasing himself from his parachute, he made his way to where Dom stood outside the canopied waiting area.
Most of his teammates had their own hotel room during road trips but Dom had always insisted that he liked having the company of a roommate and Slade gladly agreed, even though he suspected Dom pretended for his benefit. The older brother he'd never had, Dom gave him the stability of family, and was usually more than willing to accompany him on his adventures—from midnight pizza to keeping him company during the half hour drive to the skydiving facility and back.
Dom held up his phone, showing a video of the landing. "Nice job. I sent it to Liam. You about ready to head back? We'll have time to eat lunch with Adam and Gemma before heading over to the ballpark."
"Let's go." He liked that Dom didn't push him to talk, but was simply there, always there, when Slade needed him.
Five hours later, as his sat in the visitors' locker room after batting practice, he wished he could say the same for his team's manager.
Dusty Martin, Slade's candidate for Asshat of the Year, bellowed his name from the opposite side of the room. "MacInnes, what's this I hear about you skydiving?"
Slade cocked his head to the side. "What did you hear?"
Glowering at him, Dusty cut a path straight toward his locker. "That you spent the morning doing it. Skydiving's not going to fly. Not if you want to remain on my team."
Slade couldn't help the twitching of his lips. Dusty had just told him that skydiving wasn't going to fly. "You can't cut me for doing things on my own time."
"Think not?"
"I'm not violating anything in my contract."
Arms crossed and legs splayed wide, his manager sneered. "That contract's going away. The team is working on your next contract and you can sure as shit expect language forbidding you from engaging in dangerous activities in there this time around."
"What the hell?" Slade surged to his feet, fists clenched. No one told him how to live his life. Dom's hand tugged on the back of his jersey but Slade didn't budge.
"My team works my way." Dusty thumped his fist against his chest in emphasis. "When you signed your last contract, no one knew about your penchant for reckless behavior. I won't have that kind of risk hanging over
