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while he’s in town, because I’ll likely cave and see him.
    “And no texting with him. Got it?”
    “What are you now? A mind reader?” I quip.
    “No, I’m your best friend.” Taylor gives me a side hug, and much to my delight, we go back to discussing our jobs and the new boutique that opened on Michigan Avenue. All thoughts of baseball and the boys who play it float away in my mimosa soaked brain for now.

CHAPTER THREE
     
    Brady
     
     
    I carry the flower bouquet I bought on the way to my mother’s house up her front steps. She wanted a wide porch with a bench swing and my brother and I made sure her wish came true when we bought her this home. My flowers are a peace offering for the disappointment I’m sure I caused from another round of hookup photos in the paper.
    I ring the doorbell out of respect, even though she always scolds me for not just walking in, but it’s her house and I want her to feel this way. She holds the deed and keys, not us.
    “Brady,” my mother says after opening the door, her brow knitted into lines of worry. I don’t like this look on her face, especially since it’s now obvious she’s seen the gossip news surrounding me from last night. “Get inside.”
    Shit, she’s more pissed than normal. She normally says hello, even if I’m caught with a nameless babe on my arm. This time she didn’t even give me a hug. I hand her the flowers with a broad smile and she raises her brow at me. She’s not overlooking my offense today, and doesn’t look at peace one bit.
    “Thanks, dear.” She takes the flowers and reaches up to pat my cheek with a sadness reflecting back at me in her eyes. At least I know she still loves me.
    “They’re your favorite. Gerber daisies,” I add, trying to suck up, just a little.
    “I’ll go put them in some water,” she says while moving toward the kitchen, and I follow. “Your brother and I have been waiting for you.”
    “Oh really?” I ask, aware I’ve likely entered into hostile territory. “Where’s Bryce?”
    “Sitting at the table staring at the fried chicken.” I lick my lips, almost tasting my mother’s cooking. “I fixed your favorite cheesy potatoes, too.”
    “Thanks, Mom.” I give her a kiss on the cheek as she fills a vase with water. She turns to face me with tears in her eyes and my heart sinks into the wooden floor.
    “I’ll to try to behave,” I mutter under my breath, embarrassed and ashamed that I have no control over my dick. I also know my promises will never stand. Saying no to pussy is impossible. I can’t do it.
    “Son,” my mother says, brushing a finger below her eye, “go sit down and join your brother.”
    I bow my head, unable to bear looking at her right now this close up.
    I walk through the kitchen into the dining room, feeling about as big as an ant. Once I’m through the opening to the room, Bryce starts shaking his head at me.
    “Brady, you’re one fucked up piece of shit,” Bryce begins.
    “Hello to you, too.” I pull out my chair and sit my butt down. We have assigned seats to keep us apart while we eat. My mother learned boys with flying elbows and fists should be separated while eating, so my mom sits at the head of the table with Bryce and I in seats across from each other. Though, we have been known to bruise each other’s shins under the table.
    “Your stupid shenanigans are breaking Ma’s heart,” Bryce adds to the pain I already feel.
    “I know. I know. I fucked up,” I say, arranging the perfectly set silverware.
    “You say this every time.” Bryce hits his fist on the table and I jump. “When are you going to learn to play around out of the spotlight? Let the rumors be just that—rumors with nothing concrete to back them up. You’re killing Ma with practically fucking these women on camera. Leave it for your penthouse or a hotel room behind closed doors.”
    “You had college to work out your wild oats. I’m still sowing mine.” It’s my lame defense.
    “Poor