Ask Me Why(54)

This won’t be pushing too far. It’s just one game. Ollie will be with us. There’s no potential of this being a date.

Man the fuck up, I scold myself. She’s just a chick.

One my son happens to love. A lot. Braelyn will agree to anything for him.

That indisputable fact slams down a gavel. Decision made, I grab my phone and tap out a text.



Me: Hey. What’re the chances you’d like to see the Blues play tonight?



I hit send before finding ten reasons not to. The ball is safely lobbed into her field. I glare at my cell until the screen fades to black. Fuck. But what was I expecting? That she’s waiting to hear from me, desperate and ready at all times? Even I’m not that arrogant.

Ollie darts down the stairs and runs toward me. “Did you ask her?”

I point at my phone. “Just sent a message.”

He plops onto the chair beside me, resting his chin on an open palm. We take turns staring at the dark screen. This isn’t constructive for either of us.

“Do you want a snack?” I move to the fridge.

“Cheese wheel, please.”

I pull open the deli drawer. “Coming right up.”

“Miss Braelyn will say yes.”

I’m not sure if he’s talking to me or himself. I choose to let it slide, handing him the wax covered circle. Ollie tugs at the tabs, revealing the white Swiss inside. Half the chunk is gone with one bite. He happily munches away, humming the theme song to his favorite cartoon. The strain collecting at the base of my neck ebbs slightly. Crisis averted.

“Shu mwe cull herm?”

Ollie resembles a chipmunk storing food for winter. I barely make out his garbled words. With a tense chuckle, I shake my head.

“No, buddy. We’ll wait for her to answer. Be patient.”

I almost laugh at my own suggestion. That request is along the lines of asking him to hold off on watching the new episode of Paw Patrol. He gobbles down the remaining cheese, his throat bobbing in an effort to swallow it all.

“But she’s not working. It’s Sunday. Why is she taking so long?”

“Ollie, it’s been five minutes.”

His lower lip sticks out. “That’s a long time, Daddy.”

He’s bouncing in place, unable to sit still. My gut clenches while weighing the possibility of her turning us down. We didn’t plan far enough ahead. She probably won’t be interested or has other stuff to do. I look at my son who’s vibrating with excitement. He’ll be fucking crushed if she doesn’t join us. And if I’m being honest, he won’t be the only one.

My phone vibrates on the counter and I snatch it up.



Braelyn: Baseball? With you?



The need to correct her flexes my fingers. I type in a blur, resting my hip against the table.



Me: And Ollie. We have tickets for the game later.

Braelyn: That could be fun. What time?

Me: Game starts at seven. We usually get there an hour early.

Braelyn: Okay. Is parking expensive?

Me: Are you good with trains?

Braelyn: Yes. No traumatic history there.

Me: Meet us at the Light Rail station off 73rd and Oakville. Let’s plan on five-thirty. Want me to send a pin drop?

Braelyn: Ah, smart. That’s okay, I found it. See you soon.



“What’s she saying? She’s coming, right?” Ollie is leaning over so far, he might fall out of the chair.

His lips twist in that adorable way I love. “You’re happy.”

I straighten off the counter ledge. “Of course I am. We’re gonna watch the Blues play.”

He shakes his head. “But we do that a lot. This is different.”

I turn away before he can dissect my expression further. The kid sees far too much. All I need is for him to start hounding me about marrying Braelyn again. He’s dropped the subject more recently.

“Let’s get ready to go, buddy. Is your jersey clean?” I call to him over my shoulder.

His footsteps follow close behind me. “I dunno.”

I smirk. Searching for his shirt will keep him preoccupied. “Well, get looking.”

“Kay, Daddy. I’ll find it.” A light huff precedes him taking off toward the laundry room.

I climb the stairs for a quick shower, trying to ignore the pep in my step. I’ll never admit the effect that woman has on me. This shit will be taken to my grave.

Between chasing Ollie all about and inconvenient thoughts of Braelyn, three hours fly by in an arch of rainbow colors. We’re decked out in our gear and ready to roll. Whenever she’s involved, it’s a snap to get my son in the car and going. We’re on the road in record time, practicing our hoots and hollers for rooting on our team. I might need to keep her around for reinforcement purposes. But that would add more complications than I can count. I don’t allow that idea to take root while steering my car around the final curve. The crowded parking lot appears in front of us.

Ollie begins kicking his feet wildly, the passenger seat jerking from the force. “We’re almost there. I’m so excited. Do you think Miss Braelyn is already here, Daddy?”

Anticipation for a Blues game has never been higher.

I smile up at the rearview mirror. “Maybe, buddy. We’ll see.”