Stealing Home: A Reverse Grumpy-Sunshine College Sports Romance (Beyond the Play Book 3)

I DON’T WANT to go back to dinner. No part of me wants to sit down and answer my brothers’ questions about my future right now. But I’m the one who started this conversation, and Mia clearly wants to be left alone, so it’s my only option. Maybe by the time the meal is over, I’ll bring her a plate and we can talk. Actually talk, not fling words around like poison darts. I’m as guilty of it as her, but I meant it when I told her this conversation wasn’t over. We have to figure this out, even if our words are cutting each other deep.

A future without her is no future at all.

I linger on the stairs, taking a few deep breaths to calm myself. Stubborn tears linger, so I press the heels of my hands to my eyes. My feelings are a fucking jumbled mess right now, anger and sadness warring with a tsunami of worry. Who cares about whether we get married or have kids? I care more about my future with her than I do about any hypothetical children I might have.

Maybe I should try talking to her again.

I shake my head, even though I’m alone, and drag my hands down my face. That would just make things worse. She’s listening to all the wrong things, all the dumb shit that came out of my mouth instead of what’s important. And the way she accepted my kiss, then pushed me out of the room?

I play with Dad’s medallion, running it over my mind. I never thought I’d ever want to take back a kiss from Mia di Angelo, but right now, I wish it never happened.

The moment I get back to the patio, Penny jerks her head up. Something in my expression must give her pause, because she opens her mouth, but doesn’t say anything. I settle into my chair, but the food doesn’t seem appealing anymore. My stomach pinches in on itself. All the effort that Bex put into making this nice meal, while pregnant, and I made a mess of it. I should have kept my mouth shut about baseball for the time being.

Does Mia really think it’s a bad idea, or was she just panicking? When I first told her about it, she seemed so supportive. I just have to believe that those are her true feelings about it.

I rub my chest. Regardless of her intention, she succeeded. She has to know that I’m not aspiring to become some line cook at a random restaurant. I’m dreaming of The French Laundry, not Outback Steakhouse. I want to learn from those who have mastered their respective cuisines, all over the world. I want to wear the white chef’s jacket with pride, and have status in a kitchen when I’ve earned it. Eventually, I might want a restaurant of my own, or perhaps a whole group of restaurants. My competitive spirit and drive to succeed didn’t disappear—I just decided to change its focus to something that’s wholly mine.

I know Mia. If she didn’t think it was a good idea to begin with, she’d have told me. She’s just upset, especially since I pushed her too hard on her family. Pushed her to the point that she snapped at me about mine.

Fucking hell. I should have known better. She’s told me a dozen times how much her family means to her, even with all the bullshit.

“Are you okay?” Cooper nudges his shoe against mine. “What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Should I go downstairs?” Penny asks.

I shake my head. “Give her some space.”

“For what it’s worth,” Cooper says, “I think it’s a good plan.”

My shoulders nearly sag with relief. “Really?”

“Yeah, definitely. Right, James?”

“Cooper and I were just talking,” James says. “If it’s not what you want, don’t do it. Don’t tie yourself to it just because you feel you have to. Having played football professionally for a season now, I know that if it’s not what I wanted to do, I’d be toast.”

“And you’re incredible at cooking,” Cooper says. “We know how much you love it. You’ll be a success no matter what you do with it.”

I duck my head as my cheeks heat up. “Thanks, guys.”

“You’re our brother,” James says. He presses his fist to his heart; to the tattoo he shares with me and Cooper. “We’re always going to support you.”

My heart sprints in my chest, the good emotions warring with the bad. “Even if I’m not… an athlete anymore? Not like you guys are?”

“To be clear, I’ll still be challenging you at the gym every chance I get,” Cooper says. “And I’ll definitely be sad if you leave me a semester early.”

James shakes his head fondly at our brother. “Seb, you’re not our family because you play a sport. You’re our family because we love you.”

Bex sniffles, clearly on the verge of tears again. “This is so sweet.”

He squeezes her hand. “It’s just the truth. Remember the fight you got into the first week at Albright?”

“That was a good fight,” Cooper reminisces. “Definitely worth the lecture from Mom and Dad.”

“I jumped into the fray for you then,” James says, “and I’d do it now and always.”

It’s quiet for a second, while I figure out how to talk again. I don’t know why I was so worried about their reactions. I guess it’s impossible to calm the anxiety when it comes to moments like this, even if they’ve accepted me as their brother since day one. “Thank you.”

“Wait,” Cooper says. “Do Mom and Dad know your plan?”

“Not yet,” I say. “I wanted to tell you two first.”

“Poor Richard,” Penny says, although she doesn’t sound all that sorry. “Learning he’s going to be a grandfather and this all at once.”

“We’ll back you up,” Cooper says. “Whenever you want to tell them, we’ll support you.”

James nods. “I guess it does need to be soon, since the draft is in a few weeks. What do you have to do to withdraw, write to the commissioner’s office?”

Penny gets up, pressing her phone to her ear. “Hey. Are you okay? Do you want me to bring you down a plate?”

Mia.

I get up too, circling around the table to her. She shoots me a look as she runs a hand through her hair. Her eyes widen as she takes in whatever Mia is saying.

My heart leaps painfully.

“Oh,” she says. “I mean—shit, are you serious?”

“What?” I demand. “Is she okay?”

“Sure. I’ll call ahead and tell Dad you’ll be there.” She pauses. “Right. Are you sure this is what you—”

I don’t waste any more time listening in. I run to the bedroom and skid to a halt in front of it, throwing it open without bothering to knock.

It’s empty. Mia’s bags are gone.

And on the bed is a note.

S—

Thank you for everything. Please know that I do believe in you. You’re going to make a wonderful chef.

I’m sorry for this. It was so easy to love you.

Goodbye,

M

P.S. We were always friends.