Killer is steadily barking at the grill like something is going to jump off and land in her slobbery mouth. The aroma of charcoal is making my mouth water, too, so I can’t blame a girl for trying.
Seriously, whose idea was it to start the grill while we played a few innings of baseball outside, in the scorching-ass heat? Theo’s, that’s who. He started in with his dinner request at seven this morning. His order of ribs, potato salad, and baked beans was popped off in rapid sequence.
I shouldn’t encourage his newly relaxed diet, and throw on a chicken breast instead, but I do. I promised to treat him more like a boyfriend instead of an athlete. But he’s no longer an athlete.
Theo Von Bremen officially retired this season.
It wasn’t a hard decision since he wanted to quit for some time. Thad and I wanted him to succeed so badly that we forgot about what he wanted.
We sold it to the press like his arm was no good after the incident, but in fact, it was better than ever. The bullet hit his lung, lodging itself there, and after being on pins and needles while he was in the operating room for six hours, he pulled through. I, however, was a complete train wreck for three solid weeks.
For the first time in the history of being the Commander, I broke down at Cade’s feet in a heaving mess. When he carried me to the waiting room, the guys huddling all around, so many things went through my head. Would I ever be happy without Theo in my life? Would the guys leave me?
So many unanswered questions.
I was a fucked-up mess, sobbing in the arms of six burly men. I’m sure the rumor mill in Madison was abuzz.
Theo was transferred to the ICU when he came out of surgery. I was hell on wheels, to say the least. I was barking orders, checking medicines, anything and everything to give me a sense of control.
Cade, the sweet asshole he is, ended up slipping a sleeping pill into my coffee, and I finally slept until my boy awoke, bitching about the uncomfortable mattress. I had to pull some strings but all of us were able to stay together, sleeping in that tiny space of a room for a whole week until Theo was moved to a transitional floor unit.
Those long-ass days were filled with jokes and laughter and fitful sleep. It was a close call and one I hope we never have to live through again.
Now, six months later, Theo and Hayes work for the Atlanta Braves, our local team, scouting and recruiting new prospects. It’s a job he was made for. With Hayes’ baseball knowledge and Theo’s intimate knowledge of skill and technique, they make one hell of a duo.
Cade and I have become successful in our own right. The news caught wind of our story and people all over the world started sending donations and letters about what a wonderful thing we were doing for our military and community. We received so many donations that we are currently expanding the house and even building additional quarters (or barracks as Cade likes to refer to them) to take in more vets.
The pimply-faced kid who originally denied our petition was one of the first at our door, offering his services. We politely declined. I’m kidding. We laughed in his face and slammed the door so hard the windows shook. We went with a different branch, one more closely affiliated to the Marines, where most of the guys served. They were eager to work with us and provided all the information we needed to declare ourselves a foundation.
Six weeks from now, my grandparent’s plantation house will officially be renamed to The McCallister Jameson Foundation. Pride is what Cade and I felt as we scrawled our names across that binding contract. We’re partners now. No longer my rescue, Cade has become my best friend. And most importantly, my family. All these guys have.
Nicole is staying with us until she can get on her feet. We contacted her family and as you may have guessed, they were just as shitty as Lou. So, she’s ours for now, sleeping in Lawson’s room because we just couldn’t manage to keep them apart.
As for Killer, well, she loves her name and is perfectly content sleeping between Theo and me every night. She’s my right hand when these men get out of control. After a lot of negotiating, Mason finally agreed to share joint custody with us.
“Come on, Ans, are you going to catch or what?” Theo’s hip is jutted out like he has so many other important things to do than to play a bullshit game of baseball with the guys and me. He doesn’t have a thing to do and rushing me when I am starving is just annoying.
I send him my eat-shit look as I crouch into position behind the plate, ready to catch whatever bone-crushing throw he decides to pitch.
Cade grins at me, which is weird. Normally, these brutes are hurling insults about whose dick is bigger. (I may or may not have a bet going with Cade about this specific topic. He must give evidence to win, though. I am not taking his word for it.)
Cade digs in and gives a few practice swings as I flip Theo off behind his back. Take that, you little hungry shit.
Rocking back on my heels, I give him the signal for the curve. Cade likes to chase curves. Not literally, he’s a damn saint when it comes to the occasional one-night stand or premarital sex in general. What a waste. Girls trip over themselves to hear that southern accent and get a glimpse at all those hard-earned muscles.
Theo shakes his head, not agreeing with my pitch of choice.
Dammit. I am not going to be here all day. This was supposed to be a simple couple of innings and we have been out here half an hour.
I give the signal again a little rougher and with an added finger flip to get my point across. He shakes it off again and I nearly chuck my glove at his pretty face.
Theo paces the mound, wiping sweat from his brow.
“Come on, Von Bremen,” I yell in desperation. “I’m ready to eat. I’m starving!”
He stops pacing and stares.
What. The. Hell. Is. Going. On.
