Resisting Roots (Lotus House Book 1) Read online

  I worried about his reaction. We didn’t have much money, so the present was handmade. Trent had a soft side that mostly consisted of making love to me and being kind to my siblings and his parents, but I hoped that the gift make him feel like a bigger part of a whole.

  He’d told me a couple weeks ago that he finally felt like he was home with me and my family. So the three of us had covertly taken pictures over the last couple weeks, along with the random ones his mom had taken at Thanksgiving and a few we’d taken with the cell phone when we were out. I’d printed all of them, and the three of us did a scrapbooking project and made special designs around the edges. The framed collage was all pictures of him with us and his parents. One big, happy Brady Bunch style family.

  Trent covered his mouth. “It’s…it’s…ah-mazing. I mean…wow…” His eyes were wide and his jaw slack as he fingered the different pictures. “This is one of the best presents I’ve ever received.”

  Mary squealed and jumped into his arms. He hugged her tight and petted her hair. Then he stood, and Rowan gave him the manly fist bump. Trent grabbed his hand and brought my brother into a full hug. At first, Rowan tensed but then wrapped his arms around Trent and squeezed. That was when the tears ran down my face.

  Ever since Dad had died, Rowan lacked that male bonding. Trent had manned up over the past two months, giving his time to Row, which definitely helped him come out of his shell a bit, but this was the first time he’d embraced a male like that since we lost Dad.

  I stood and threw myself into Trent’s arms. “I’m so glad you like it,” I sobbed against his warm neck.

  He held me close, kissed my cheeks, and wiped at my tears. “I love it, and I love you. Now I’d like to give Row a present, but you have to promise not to be mad. This is my gift, man to man. It will hurt me deeply if you don’t allow him to accept it.”

  Oh, no. My mind spun at the possibilities. After my gift and the Barbie dream house for Mary complete with four new Barbies, the Ken dolls, a race car, and a closet full of clothes, the options were endless. What could he have gotten a soon-to-be seventeen-year-old?

  “Row, you ready for your gift?”

  Rowan’s eyes lit up. “Yeah, sure. Whatever, man.”

  He was obviously trying to be cool, which actually worked for him.

  “Okay, but this present is for Christmas and your birthday. I don’t want your sister killing me for going overboard.”

  “Um…okay.” Row’s voice shook. He cleared his throat and followed as Trent walked out to the front of the house.

  The three of us followed Trent right out the front door and stopped on the porch. There, in the driveway, were Trent’s parents standing right next to our dad’s vintage Mustang.

  “Holy shit! Dad’s Stang.” Row’s eyes were wide as dinner plates. He ran his fingers through his hair and tugged at the layers. “No way!”

  He looked at the car, to me, to the car, and then to Trent who was holding out a set of keys.

  “Yes way. No man should be without the car his dad loved and wanted him to have. Right, Dad?” Trent yelled over the porch to where his dad held his mom in a tight hug in the frosty morning air.

  “Damn straight, son!”

  I opened my mouth and closed it at least five times. Rowan, on the other hand, grabbed the keys, hugged Trent, and ran down the steps where he laid his body over the car and gave it a welcome back hug.

  Trent came over to me as Mary ran down the stairs to hug the Foxes. They wrapped her in their loving arms right away.

  “Merry Christmas, sweetheart. We have tons of presents for you,” Joan said.

  Richard rolled his eyes and grinned. “She really does. She went nutty on you four but especially you, little one.” He petted Mary’s hair.

  I shook my head and sucked back a sob, watching my family happy on Christmas. Usually this day was one of the hardest without our parents. However, today, with Trent and his family, it felt like we were starting over. Making good memories with people we loved, yet never forgetting the ones we’d lost.

  “Did I do okay?” Trent wrapped his arms around me from behind.

  I held on to his forearms as my brother kissed the car and petted it like it was a long lost lover.

  I pressed back into him. “You did more than okay. You did it all.”

  “What all?” he asked kissing my temple.

  “You gave us back Christmas.”

  “And you gave me back a real life. I think we’re even.” He laughed and squeezed me tighter.

  * * *

  TRENT

  “Dude, long time, no see.” Clayton Hart, my private personal trainer, grabbed my hand to shake it and clapped me on the back at the same time.

  I smiled wide. If I called anyone a best friend, Clay would be the one. He’d been with me since college, where we graduated together. He graduated at the top of the class in sports medicine and fitness and I went off to play for the Oakland Ports. I’d seen him several times a week for the past five years. He helped me work out and keep my weight down by giving me a menu plan.

  I rubbed my gut and patted it. “Too long.”

  Clay grinned. “All those holiday meals, eh? I was beginning to wonder why you rescheduled our training for the last few weeks. Glad to have you back, man, and see you looking good. Actually”—he stopped, rubbed at his chin and tilted his head—“something’s different.”

  “Yeah, the ten extra pounds of turkey, prime rib, Ma’s desserts, and Genevieve’s homemade meals are sticking to the ribs, making me soft.” I pulled off my sweatshirt, leaving on my standard white tank and a pair of basketball shorts.

  Clay shook his head. “Nah, man, it’s something else. You look good. Really good. No bags under the eyes.” He pulled at the skin of my forearm. “Skin seems nice and elastic, hydrated, and you don’t have that scowl on your face.” He chuckled and huffed out a fast breath. “Not sad to see that sour face go, that’s for sure.”

  I got on the treadmill, and Clay set the pace. I wasn’t having any trouble with the leg, so he pumped it up and raised the incline.

  He assessed the machine and pressed more buttons. “Your leg is doing great, man. You’re far beyond where I thought you’d be at the first part of January. I hoped, but since you’d canceled with me, I figured you were wallowing in your own self-pity. Doesn’t seem that’s the case.”

  I swished some water around my mouth and swallowed. “Nope. Everything’s good, man, really good.”

  “Now that I can see. What have you been up to? Different chick every night?” He waggled his eyebrows.

  I sighed and scowled.

  “Ah, there’s the frown. It’s back. Sorry, man, didn’t mean to piss you off. What’s the deal?” Clay’s blue eyes softened as he leaned against the treadmill.

  “I’m only seeing one woman. Committed to her, actually.”

  Clay looked at me as if I’d just told him I quit the league. “You? In a relationship?”

  “Yeah, me. What’s it to ya?”

  He shook his head and grinned. “Is she pregnant?”

  “No!” I said too quickly, instantly remembering a couple weeks after Thanksgiving when we thought she might be. She said she’d gotten her period, and that was that. I didn’t want to admit to him that a part of me wished she had been. I could definitely see a little mini Trent or Genevieve running around.

  “Then what gives?”

  “Genevieve is something else, man. She’s beautiful, a yoga teacher.” I grinned. “Takes care of her family, works hard, doesn’t ask for jack shit, and for some crazy reason, she loves me.”

  Hitting a few buttons, I stopped the treadmill and wiped the sweat off my face and neck. Clay led me over to the weight machines. I sat down on the bench.

  He rubbed at his hair and looked around. “Good for you. I’m happy for you. But is one woman really going to be enough? I mean, you’ve got a horde of fans and groupies, not to mention the line of broken hearts already.” Clay adjusted the weights.
>
  I pulled down the weight bar to work on my back. “Genevieve is more than enough. Seriously, she’s the reason I’m doing so well. No offense.”

  Clay laughed. “None taken. I figured when you said yoga instructor you actually went to the classes.”

  I nodded. “Every last one. That shit is no joke. It’s much easier to lift weights and run on a treadmill. But yoga? That is not for the weak.”

  “You like the class offerings?”

  “I like her offering.” I smirked.

  He shook his head, covering a smile.

  “They have tons of them, and believe it or not, most of the classes have about thirty to forty percent men, which I hadn’t expected. I’d always thought yoga was for women, but there are a lot of guys teaching and taking classes. You should check it out.”

  Clay fiddled with the weights, adding more. “I’ll do that. I’ve been looking for something to change things up. Personal training is great, and the money is killer with the celebrity clientele, but sometimes I just want to chill, you know? Mentally escape.”

  I followed Clay to the ab machine. “I totally get it. At first, I thought it was going to be easy, but yoga pushes you physically and mentally. Stretches me out good. Of course, I get private lessons from Genevieve so there is that.” I grinned and licked my lips.

  “You suck, man.” Clay scowled this time.

  “What? Have you ever thought about settling down?” I took in Clay’s form.

  He took care of himself and it showed. He didn’t seem to have much in the way of fat, and women gravitated toward him naturally. Usually, that meant a guy had a nice face, too, but I’d never thought much about it either way. I typically had the same response from the opposite sex. When the two of us were out, step back. The ladies came in droves.

  “Is that what you’re doing?” He smirked.

  I tipped my chin. “Yeah, man, I am. Genevieve is it for me. No bullshit. I just gotta get through the away games and keep my shit in check. You?”

  Clay shrugged and flipped a towel over his broad shoulders. The black Chinese letters that ran down the outside of his left arm were slick with a mist of sweat that glinted off the overhead lights. He’d probably worked out before I arrived.

  He inhaled and let out a slow breath. “I’d love to settle down, start a family, but I’ve been there once before, and look how shitty that turned out. Not sure I could trust so easily for a second round in the love department.” He ran his hand through his spiked blond hair.

  “I hear ya.” I stood and gripped him on the shoulder. “If you do want to give it a shot, let me know. Genevieve works with a host of hotties over at Lotus House Yoga Center. Seriously man, they are bangin’, and all of them are sweet as cherry pie.”

  Clay groaned. “Now you just sound like an asshole again. Come on, let’s work off that layer of cake over your gut and get you ready for spring training. We still on for personal training in between?”

  “Hell, yes. I need to stay in prime shape. I’ve got a contract to secure and a woman to keep satisfied.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Child’s Pose (Sanskrit: Balasana)

  Child’s pose in yoga is the primary resting pose. It is used in almost every single yoga class to give the body and mind a moment of peace. Typically, the position has the arms on the mat, stretched out in front of you, but you can modify by tucking the arms. Kneel with your knees wide. Lay your chest down between your bent legs, resting your forehead on the mat. Stretch your arms out wide or tuck them in.

  * * *

  GENEVIEVE

  The nurse practitioner entered the all-white room and shook my hand. “I’m Tammy, and I’ll be giving you your annual exam.” The tall brunette smiled and washed her hands. She was taller than I, around five feet eight. Her hair was brown and cropped close to the nape. A cool pair of blown-glass earrings dangled from her ears. The hues and tones in the glass perfectly matched the purple-rimmed glasses she had perched on her small button nose. “You mentioned on your form that you were interested in some contraception? Are you using anything now?”

  “Just condoms. I haven’t had the need for anything consistent until recently.”

  “And you’re looking at the birth control pill?”

  I nodded and swung my bare legs. Sitting naked in the doctor’s office with only a weird paper vest and a paper drape over my lower half while the nurse and I communicated about contraception was uncomfortable. I wish she’d chatted about this before or after my exam. I could hardly focus on anything but the fact that she was going to be up close and personal with my hoo-hah.

  “When was your last period?”

  “I should be due anytime.” I glanced at the calendar across the room. “Actually, I’m normally pretty regular. I should have gotten it two days ago, but that’s not unusual right? I was a week late last month, which was scary because my boyfriend and I had been reckless.”

  The woman narrowed her eyes. “So you were a week late last month and are late again? Do you normally have unprotected sex?”

  My entire body got tight. “No. Not at all. I’ve actually only recently started having sex again after a three-year dry spell. My boyfriend and I only had a day of slipups, but it worked out. I had a light period, even though it was late.”

  “Did you take a pregnancy test?”

  I held the vest together more tightly against my chest, shook my head, and bit my lip. “No, because I had my period.”

  “Hmmm. Well, let’s take a look.”

  After about five minutes of a most annoying experience, the nurse finally pulled off her gloves and tapped my knee.

  “Just as I thought.” She bit her lip and stood.

  I looked around the room while she washed her hands and leaned against the counter.

  “Genevieve, you are most definitely pregnant. If what you say is true about your period, I’m going to guess around eight weeks, but we’ll need to take you over to the other room to be sure. I’ll give you a moment to gather yourself, and I’ll meet you over in room two. Okay?” Her eyes were kind as she patted my knee once more.

  “Pregnant,” I whispered.

  She stopped with her hand on the door.

  “But I had my period. It doesn’t make sense.” The edges of my vision started to darken and narrow. My heart became a steady throb banging against my chest like a bass drum. A fine mist of sweat broke out across my hairline, and I worried I’d faint. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t. I shook my head, tears distorting my vision and then falling down my cheeks.

  “A lot of women have a period the first month or two. It could also have been implantation taking place. We’ll know more when we do the ultrasound.”

  Tears ran down my face. I wasn’t sure if they were happy tears or sad tears. They were definitely freaked-the-heck-out tears. What would Trent say? Last month was the first time we’d admitted our feelings. We’d had all of three months together, and now a life growing was inside me—a piece of him and a piece of me. Oh God. I held my hand over my mouth as the sobs released.

  * * *

  Armed with a handful of ultrasound pictures of my six-week-and-four-day-old baby, a bag full of pamphlets for a new expectant mother, and the first month of prenatal vitamins, I walked down the chilly Berkeley street. Aimless. I didn’t know what to do or where to go. The only thing I could think about was how Trent was going to take this information. Would he be happy? Angry? When it had happened, he said we’d deal with the outcome together and that we’d be parents, but that was what any guy would say when he just put a woman at risk. Did he really mean it?

  My phone beeped in my pocket.

  To: Genevieve Harper

  From: Baseball Hotness

  Gonna hit the Albatross Pub with my buddy Clay to catch up and have a few brews. Don’t hold dinner. See you tonight, gumdrop. Be naked. ;-)

  Albatross. Boy, did that name fit the current problem in our lives, even though he was none the wiser. Picking up the pace, I made my wa
y home to cook dinner for the family and figure out what and how I was going to tell Trent about the baby.

  * * *

  TRENT

  The table swayed as Clay and I slammed down our third shot of Patrón Silver. Empty beer mugs littered the booth where we sat. So far, we were head-to-head with the drink even though he’d sworn he could drink me under the table any day of the week. I accepted that challenge and upped it by betting cash on it. A Benjamin each, and the loser owned the title of lightweight.

  Several of the guys from the team sauntered in. We played pool, drank a beer, took a shot, and repeated. We were four beers and four shots apiece in, and I was feeling mighty fine.

  “Hey, Foxy, been a while since I’ve seen you out and about,” a husky voice said from behind me.

  Before I could turn, DawnMarie had her arm around my shoulders and her hand on my thigh creeping up my leg.

  DawnMarie was tall and thin with a giant pair of fake titties that looked mighty fine on her. I’m sure she’d paid a pretty penny getting those suckers to look so good. I’d seen a few in my day, and hers were solid. DawnMarie—all one word, all one name. I knew this because she’d made me write it across my abs in black marker one night when we’d had some fun. As a matter of fact, we’d had several nights of fun over the years. She was a team groupie. Followed us from place to place, bedding whichever player suited her fancy at the time. She was a damn good lay, very attentive, and her dick sucking skills were top-notch.

  “Hi, DawnMarie, mind moving that hand?” I slurred and frowned.

  “Why would I do a silly think like that? If I remember correctly, you loved the things this hand could do.”

  I snickered drunkenly and looked down. Her bright red nails were like talons digging into the meat of my thigh, reminding me that they were not the soft lily-white hands of my gumdrop—the woman who would be right pissed if she saw this chick hanging all over her man.