Chapter 37 Dom

Chapter 37

Dom

Sitting in Dr. Smith’s tiny office with my trembling girlfriend, I’m only now noticing how sterile and cold it is. Squeezing Indie’s hand, I use my other hand to drag her chair closer. If I think this place is scary right now, she must be out of her mind.

There’s a knock at the door and I turn my head to see Dr. Smith come in, her lips pressed into a thin line. Instead of taking a seat behind the desk, she pulls her stool around, sitting on the other side of Indie and taking her hand.

“Just tell me,” Indie says, her voice heartbreakingly defeated and completely void of any emotion. She’s broken, numb, and it’s fucking killing me.

“Your test was positive for the brCA 1 mutation.”

All the air is sucked out of the room, leaving me feeling lightheaded, but somehow I keep my voice even as I ask, “What does that mean?”

Indie turns to me, a single tear rolling down her cheek, her dark eyes guarded. “It means an exceedingly high risk of breast, ovarian, fallopian, and a whole host of other terrible cancers. Still sure about staying?” There’s a bite in her tone that I try not to take personally.

“If you want me to leave, security will have to drag me out,” I tell her, brokering no argument with my equally harsh tone. “I know the statistics. What I want to know is what’s next.”

“That depends on what Indie wants. There are a lot of big decisions, but none of them need to be made today.”

“I already know,” Indie says, shocking us both. My mouth opens to argue, but Dr. Smith is right, this is Indie’s show now. I just hope she decides to fight like hell because I can’t lose her.

“Take some time. Nothing needs to happen today,” Dr. Smith tries again.

Next to me, Indie shakes her head, brushing away the tears and sucking in a shaky breath. “I want to schedule surgery.” There’s resolve in her voice and I’m so fucking proud of her for fighting, but she needs to be sure. These surgeries have life-changing impacts.

“Baby—”

“No, Dom, it’s what I want.”

Letting go of her hand for the first time since she got out of the car, I turn her chair so she’s facing me. “This is your decision, and we’ll do whatever you want. I’m not trying to talk you out of anything. Fuck, you’re so goddamn strong. I want to fight right alongside you, but I need you to be sure.” I pause, making sure she’s listening before I emphasize, “I’ll be here for all of it. No matter what.”

“I’d like to just impress one more time that you don’t need—”

Indie turns back towards her friend and colleague. “Maryann, I know. But I’m telling you, I won’t change my mind,” Indie says, her voice stronger now. “My mom never got this chance. She fought with everything she had, but she didn’t have this. And I do. Give me the best chance to have the future I want. Let me fight.”

“Okay. Well, what about freezing your eggs? Have you given that any thought?”

I hold my breath waiting on Indie’s answer, but it doesn’t come. She looks back at me and then back at Dr. Smith. “Can you give us a moment? ”

“Yes. Take as long as you need. Text me when you’re ready for me to come back.” She squeezes Indie’s hand before she stands, giving us the room.

When the door shuts, Indie stands from her chair, moving to my lap. “I’m not ready to have babies yet. But that means you’ll never be able to have kids with me without help from IVF or a surrogate.”

I pull her down so our foreheads are touching. “As long as I get to keep you, the rest is just icing on the cake.”

“Are you sure about that?” Her fingers sink into my hair, holding us together.

“Yep, and I’ve got a plan.” Let’s just hope she doesn’t hate it.

“A plan?”

“Yeah, Baby, a plan. I’ve been researching for weeks. I meant what I said, all these decisions are yours, but I’ve got a few thoughts if you’re willing to hear them—willing to do this together.”

She texts Maryann and we talk through the next steps, get a recommendation for a fertility specialist and a surgeon for when the time comes.

Maryann wraps Indie in a hug, and we walk hand in hand out to the car. The rest of the afternoon is filled with chaos as we check things off our to-do list. Researching insurance options—all of which suck—and looking at calendars to plan out how we can make this work, all of it needs to happen quickly if I’m going to be there to help her through this first obstacle, seeing a fertility specialist with just a week left in the regular season.

It takes me pulling a few strings, and a vague call to Lara who knows just about everyone in the city, but she’s able to help get us in to see one of the best fertility specialists in the area.

The next afternoon, after a conversation with Coach and filling him in on the latest developments, I’m able to sneak out between meetings and pregame warmups to meet Indie at the fertility specialist for an ultrasound and more blood work. It’s the first step so we can start the process of freezing her eggs.

It doesn’t take long for me to realize that this whole process would be nearly impossible on her own. The paperwork alone is enough to leave you seeing double, then there’s the information overload and the bills you know are coming. Indie is smart as hell and more driven than most but this all would have been a huge burden to deal with alone.

Our game that night clinches our place in the postseason, something I’ve chased my entire career. But it’s not what’s on my mind when I leave the stadium. No, the only thing I want is to get back to Indie and Ronnie, who are watching the game together at her place.

“Are you coming out to celebrate at Draft?” Xavier asks, surrounded by Dean, Mia, Poppy, Cruz, Hendrix, and Delilah.

“Not tonight, I gotta get home.” It’s not exactly a lie, but none of them know the reason behind why Indie’s not feeling well. They all just assumed she’s got a bug and since Indie’s not ready to tell anyone, I haven’t corrected them.

“I hope she’s feeling better,” Delilah says.

“Are you sure we can’t bring her anything?” Poppy asks for the third time, sounding a little hurt.

“I’ll ask her again. She’d probably love a text to let her know you’re thinking of her,” I add.

“Or maybe we’ll all just show up at the door, soup in hand,” Mia threatens.

“Have you met Indie?” Poppy jokes.

“Yeah, maybe not the best idea,” I agree half-heartedly.

When I walk through the door to her apartment thirty minutes later, I find her curled up in a ball on the couch. Her eyes are red and unfocused as ESPN highlights play in the background. I drop to my knees, pushing the hair out of her face.

“What’s going on?” I softly stroke my hand over her head.

She shifts under the thin blanket that’s draped over her, sitting up and making the material slip off down her body, exposing an ivory corset with a sheer panel down the front. “I wanted to surprise you when you got home, but even with this on I don’t feel sexy, just bloated and gross from the injections.”

“May I?” She shivers when my fingers graze her thighs, freeing the blanket from where it’s pooled around her waist, revealing a matching pair of strappy panties. “Fucking stunning. No one else does what you do to me. Don’t doubt that for even a second, but if you’re not feeling it, I’ll run you a bath and thaw out some cookie dough. This outfit…” I bite my fist taking in the soft fabric that hugs her per curves. “Gorgeous just like you, but I’d take you in sweats any day of the week.”

“I just wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done, but then I started crying for no reason and it all snowballed from there. Now you’re here and you should be out celebrating. Instead, you’re stuck home with a whiny version of me that I don’t even want to be around.”

“I’m right where I’m supposed to be. Are you kidding me? I get to come home to a damn vision in lace and mesh on the couch.”

“You like it?” She sniffles scooting forward on the couch, making room for me between her legs.

My hands land on the tops of her knees. “Like it, I more than like it, Baby. I’ve never seen anything more perfect.” She toys with the thin gold ring on her pointer finger, spinning it in circles.

“I had this whole plan in my head. You were going to love it.”

“I have no doubt. Want to tell me about it?” I ask, my thumb rubbing over the inside of her knee in slow, rhythmic circles.

“It might be more fun if I show you.” Her hands come to the side of my face, and she leans forward, kissing me slowly, pressing her tongue into my mouth. Each swipe builds her confidence back up until she pulls back and gives me my first look at the spirited woman I’m used to.

“I’d love that, but I don’t want you to do it for me.”

“This is just as much for me. I need this, Dom.”

“I’m yours,” I reassure her, standing from where I was kneeling at the couch, but when I hold out my hand to bring her with me, she doesn’t take it. Instead, she drops to her knees in front of me. I groan, instantly hard, and about to come in pants at the sight of her on her knees for me in this outfit. She looks ethereal and I can’t get enough of it. “You want my cock in that pretty mouth, Firecracker?”

“I do.”

“Fuck yes you do, and so do I,” some primal part of me roars at her words.

“Then take it out for me.” She looks up at me, her eyes shining with confidence now, and works my belt loose. Her hand covers me over my briefs and I hiss in a breath through my teeth when she squeezes me. “See how hard you make me. I always want you, that’ll never change.” My thumb runs over her bottom lips and I pull it down. “The whole damn world is at my feet right now and it’s so fucking perfect.”

My cock springs free, bobbing against my stomach when she tugs my briefs down. With her mouth open, she sticks her tongue out flat and I grip the base of my aching dick. Looking up at me through her dark lashes she pulls me forward by my hips, feeding herself my cock, inch by inch.

Jesus, this woman is going to be the death of me. No one is stronger, more beautiful, or a better match for me. She takes everything she can until she’s pulling off and alternating working me with her hand and licking around the crown. When I hit the back of her throat, I’m barely hanging on. I try to tug her off, but she shakes her head.

“You’re killing me,” I groan. The need to be inside her is beating like a drum through my body, but she’s not stopping. If anything, she’s doubling down, swirling her tongue and sucking harder. “I can’t hang on,” I say through clenched teeth.

Fucking finally, she pops off, her fingers still wrapped around my shaft.

“If you can’t fill my pussy with your cum, fill my mouth.” Her eyes are filled with wicked delight, and I’m blown away by all of it, but mostly how thoroughly she’s taking her power back. So much has changed in the blink of an eye, and even though we can’t have sex during this step in the process of freezing her eggs, she’s not going to let that stop her from taking what she needs.

“Jesus,” I choke out, pushing her hair out of her face. I have to roll my lips together to stop the stream of words that are fighting to get out. Not because I’m not ready to say them, or even because she’s not ready to hear them, but because right now, with her on her knees licking her lips at the sight of my cock, it doesn’t feel like the right time. “Are you going to let me spill every drop down this pretty throat?” My fingers brush over her cheekbones before anchoring themselves at the base of her neck and giving it gentle squeeze.

Her lips tilt up in a devious smile and she puts me back in her mouth, then places my free hand on the back of her head. My resolve unravels and I give her what she’s asking for, pumping in and out of her hot mouth until my thighs are burning and she’s swallowing all of me. “Fuck, Indie,” I pant out.

When I slip out of her mouth, she kisses my thigh before letting her forehead rest against my tattoo. As soon as I’m steady enough that I’m sure my legs are going to work, I’m pulling her up off the ground and into my arms.

“Let me take you to bed and take care of you now.”

“You just did. You gave me my confidence back.”

“So you’re saying you don’t want an orgasm?”

“Have you ever known me to say that?” she asks, her legs wrapping around my hips.

“No, I haven’t. Besides, I heard they can help with the discomfort.”

“So you’re saying it’s good for my health?”

“Practically doctor recommended,” I tell her, carefully navigating the narrow hallway to her bedroom with her in my arms.

“Can’t say no to that.” She laughs, brushing my hair out of my face. “We really need to take care of this hair.”

“Are you ready to cut it for me?” I ask when we step into the bedroom.

“Maybe, but that seems risky. It could be unlucky.”

“Damn, you’re right. I guess it’s going to have to wait,” I say, dropping her on to the bed and stepping back to take in the full effect of the lingerie. My woman is a fucking smokeshow, I already knew that.

“Did you get this just for me?” I ask, leaning over her and running my finger over the ivory strap .

“I got it for us. Everything changed so fast. You’ve put me first every step of the way, and I let you. We deserved some time to just stop and enjoy each other after the last few days.”

“You know I’d do it all again in a heartbeat. I have no regrets.”

“And Coach is okay with the time you’re missing this close to the postseason? What about the guys? They must be asking questions.”

“Let me worry about the team.” The guys have noticed, but so far they are giving me space. My lips cover hers and the kiss that I mean to be reassuring quickly turns heated.

The next morning while Indie is still in bed, I roll out to start the coffee the way she likes it, and get ready to head to the stadium for a full day of practice and meetings before our game tonight.

With the drip of the coffee going in the background, I let Ronnie out and turn on yesterday’s baseball highlight while I wait. The photos spread across the end table catch my attention. I hadn’t noticed them last night, but I was a little distracted.

Picking up the box I place it in my lap, carefully replacing the pictures in the box for Indie where they are safe, stopping every few pictures to examine the photos of a younger Indie with her mom. Poppy’s even in a few.

At the bottom of the pile is one that’s bent. Indie looks like she’s probably in college, maybe a senior in high school. I smooth the photo out to put it away, but I have to blink when I see who else is in the picture: Jensen “Sonny” Phillips.

“What are you doing?” Indie asks, her voice shaky. I look over my shoulder to find her standing a few feet behind the couch in nothing but my shirt, her arms crossed protectively over her chest.

“Just cleaning these up so they didn’t get wrecked.” I glance back down at the picture in my hand, already knowing the answer to the question I’m about to ask. “Why do you have a picture of Sonny?”

“Who?” She stops behind the couch looking over my shoulder. “Are you talking about Jensen?” she asks, her mouth tilting into a frown. Reaching over my shoulder she takes the picture from me, folding it back and then forward again. She repeats the motion a few times while rounding the couch and dropping to sit next to me. Carefully ripping along the crease, she separates the two halves of the picture. Setting the half with her and her mom back in the box on my lap. “I should have done that a long time ago.”

“He’s the one that hurt you, isn’t he?”

“Yes, he’s the ex from college,” she says slowly, clearly not sure why this matters.

“That son of a bitch,” I seethe. “He’s always been a shithead. Only we called him ‘Sonny,’ not Jensen, when I played with him in the minors. A nickname from the veterans, probably because he was so immature. We roomed together our first year until I moved out.”

“Wait . . . what? I need coffee for this conversation.”

“I’ve got it.” Pushing up from the couch, I give myself a second to process. I know enough about Sonny to know he’d make a terrible boyfriend. The asshole who hurt her, the one that made it so hard for her to trust me, is my former friend. Granted, we weren’t friends for long, but I lived with the guy. We shared countless beers together and bonded over baseball and life. Grabbing her a mug I pour her a coffee and return to my spot beside her on the couch.

“Do you still talk to him? Are you friends?” The cup cradled in her hand shakes against her knee where it’s resting.

“No. He was a wild card when we lived together, and was constantly making the wrong choices. I moved out because I didn’t want to be associated with him once I saw what he was really like.”

“So you still don’t talk to him?” She sips from her coffee and I want to pull it away so she can’t hide behind the cup.

“I saw him a few weeks ago on the road in Phoenix. He asked me to do something after the game. I blew him off.”

“I didn’t even know he was still playing.”

“I hate that someone hurt you like that. I hate even more that it was him.” Taking the other half of the picture from her, I ball it up. “I think I’ll use him for batting practice today.”

“Have at it,” she says, resting her head on my shoulder. “I can’t believe I ever thought the two of you were anything alike. ”

“Proving myself to you was an honor. No one should ever treat you the way he did, and now it’s my job to make sure no one else ever does.”

“And believe it or not, I’m okay with that.”

“Look at us growing and evolving.” I kiss the top of her head as she sips her coffee. A happy Indie in my arms first thing in the morning is the best way to start my day. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Anything.” She hums.

“Take my credit card. It’s on the counter. I know you have your own money but it’ll give me some peace of mind when I’m traveling knowing that you have it. With all the bills coming up—please just take it. There’s not a lot I can do for you, but this I can.”

“If it will make you worry less, I’ll take it, but Dom, you’ve done so much already—more than I could have ever asked for.”

“Fuck, it’s hot when you’re agreeable.”

“Don’t lie, you love it when I argue.”

And she’s not wrong. I really do.