Page 5 of Finally Home
Jeremy is nodding his head when I peek up at him through blurry eyes. “Ella is right, Cupcake. You have my blessing to work remotely for as long as you’d like after you take four weeks paid vacation to recuperate and see your family. My only stipulation is that you call my lawyer the second you get on that plane and file for divorce. You are gonna divorce the bastard, right?”
His single raised eyebrow makes me giggle, and I agree before he even finishes his speech. “Of course, I am. Thank God he made me sign a prenup and let me keep my name.”
That had been a huge point of contention between us in the month before our wedding because I naïvely thought people who were in love didn’t need a prenup. I thank every deity I can that he forced the issue and insisted on separate bank accounts so I wouldn’t “take advantage of his salary.”
Wanting to keep my last name was another issue for him. I had already started my career using my maiden name, and in a field dominated by men, I didn’t want to ride in on the coattails of my new husband’s status as a player. Keeping my name ensured my independence, especially with this being my first job out of college. I didn’t want to be known only as ‘Derrick Monroe’s wife’.
Looking back, I can see the red flags, but I was young and in love and desperate to be wanted. I ignored everyone who told me marrying Derrick was a bad idea, including Rhodes.
Butterflies take flight in my stomach as I smile thinking of Rhodes. I haven’t seen him in person in two years, so even though we text often, I still miss him like crazy.
Jeremy smirks and finally releases me from the cage of his arms. “Good thing, indeed, since you make more than he does,” he says with a wink. He grabs his cell and starts arranging my transportation. He’s just getting off the phone with his lawyer a few minutes later when three hulking figures burst through my office door.
When I joined the Siren team four years ago, something I didn’t realize was that my only-child status would literally be changed overnight. Nearly all the guys adopted me as their little sister and have treated me that way ever since. The most overbearing members of the team are currently breathing like they sprinted here from the suburbs. These guys are my closest friends in the world outside of Rhodes, and we literally don’t go more than a few hours without talking in our group chat.
I raise my brows and put my hands on my hips. “Should y’all be so breathless from running up a single flight of stairs? What the hell do you do during the off-season that you’re this out of shape?”
They flip me off simultaneously, making me do what they like to call my “sunshine laugh” since, according to them, it lights up whatever room I’m in. I think it’s stupid, but I stopped arguing with them about it years ago.
Jamison Reed, starting pitcher for the Sirens, grabs my shoulders and bends down so he’s level with my face. “Did you see it?” he asks gently.
My face falls as the events from this morning hit me again full force. Tears well in my eyes, and Jamie looks panicked before he pulls me into his arms, nearly smothering me.
“Group hug!” comes a voice from behind us. Suddenly, two more sets of arms surround me tightly, and the tears fall faster down my cheeks, soaking Jamie’s shirt even as a hiccuped giggle escapes.
“It’ll be okay, Baby Reid.” The booming voice belongs to our catcher, Asher Linwood.
“Yeah,” Wes says, ruffling my hair. “We never liked the bastard anyway. You deserve so much better.”
Wesley Black is our resident golden boy shortstop and arguably the closest friend I’ve had since I graduated college. He knows every detail of my life and never hesitates to tell me what I need to hear, even if I don’t necessarily want to hear it.
I scoff at the Baby Reid comment. “Y’all do know I’m not actually related to Jamie, right?” My words are muffled by the three incredibly muscular chests currently restricting my air.
I pull back and catch Jamie rolling his blue eyes, which are eerily similar to mine. “My sweet, naïve little Wren, we have the same hair, eye, and skin color, and we share the same birthday one year apart. I’m telling you, we’re long-lost siblings,” he says seriously. “After all, I’m adopted so it’s definitely possible.”
The day I started with the team is the day I met Jamison, and it took him one minute to decide we must be long-lost family and five minutes to decide we were actually long-lost siblings. He’s been bugging me for a DNA test for years, but I’m pretty sure if I had a brother I would know about it.
Rolling my eyes, I extricate myself from the idiot sandwich. “Okay but you’re a year younger than me, so me being Baby Reid doesn’t even make sense.”
Jamie ruffles my hair with a sly grin. “It’s because you’re cute and shorter than all of us.”
I smack his hand away with a scowl. “Five foot eight is not short. But you can ask my dad if he knows about our secret sibling status when you come visit me in South Carolina in two weeks. But I think you forget that even though our last names sound the same, they’re spelled differently.”
Their eyes widen at my words.
“Wren, you’re leaving?” Wes looks at me like somebody crushed his ice cream cone, and that, combined with his pitiful tone, makes my eyes water again knowing I have an incredible support system here. I haven’t cried this much since I was a kid and broke my arm learning to ride a bike.
I rush forward and hug him tight. “It’s not forever, Wes. I just need some time away to get my head on straight and get things rolling with a divorce.” My voice breaks on the last word. “Wow…I’ll be divorced at twenty-five. That sucks.”
I let out a self-deprecating chuckle and finally pull back, wipe my eyes, and scoot past the guys to grab everything I need off my desk.
“We’re coming with you to pack,” Asher says. He’s, by far, the most reserved of the group, but it hasn’t stopped him from defending me over the years when players, agents, or managers tried to push me around because of my age and gender.
A quick glance at the other two and Jeremy tells me I don’t have a choice, so I nod in resignation. “Alright, let’s go then.”
“Wren, babe, can you just sit down so we can talk about this?” Derrick shouts from the living room.
He’s currently being held back by my pissed off entourage while I pack everything I own in this apartment, which sadly isn’t much.