Chapter Twenty

Atlas

I got the message from Indya when I was on my way to meet her brother at a restaurant halfway between Riverside and Corvallis, which is about an hour and a half away. I sent him a message asking if I could meet him a little later than we planned because something came up, but I still needed to talk to him.

"Sorry I'm late. It was important, dinner's on me, for making you wait," I tell him as I slide into the booth he was waiting in.

"Everything okay? Anything I can help with?" he asks.

"Actually, you may be able to, but I will get to that in a few, I wanted to discuss a couple of things with you about Indya if that is okay?" I really hope he is on board with meeting with my brother and sister to help me make this plan work so I can get my girls back.

"Yeah, cool. You didn't do anything stupid did you? She told me she broke up with you over text because of a picture and article Emerson and Asia seen online. I told them it was bullshit. It is bullshit, right?" He is now giving me the side eye, there may have been a hint of a threat in the tone as well.

"Yes, it is complete and utter bullshit. I have taken care of a couple of people who were involved in that farce and am working on the last one. The head of the snake if you will. I was going to ask you this over the phone, but I figured it would be more respectful to ask you face to face."

"The fuck, man, are you about to ask my permission to marry Indya. Because if that is the case the answer is fuck no you can't have my permission or blessing. You need to right all your wrongs, dickhead, before bringing out the big guns. What the hell is wrong with you, Atlas?"

I can't help it, I burst into laughter. It feels good to laugh, it has been way too long since I have had a reason too. The only time I am not thinking about Haven or Indya is when I am on the field playing ball. Any other time, home, working out, driving, eating, sleeping, even when I am sitting in the dugout waiting for my turn to bat, they are on my mind.

"No, that is not what I am going to ask you, but I will be asking you one day, I promise you. This is a little more serious than that, to be honest, a little harder to say aloud." Suddenly I get nervous to ask him if he and his sister are willing to help me. I start messing with the bracelet, Haven gave me, on my wrist.

"What are you fiddling around with? I knew the question was going to come my way sooner or later, that is why I freaked a little. I was about to rip you a new one, for real," Silas says, his tone terse, his face severe.

I push my sleeve up and show him the thread bracelet, his eyes grow wide, then pushes his up, showing me one that looks exactly like mine and Zanders except a chef hat represents him.

"She is an amazing little girl, isn't she. Hard not to fall in love with her, want to protect her from everything and everyone. Even from people who think they deserve to know Haven, it was why we moved closer to Indya when she moved from D.C. I needed to be close to them to be able to protect them both," he states, then fiddles with his bracelet.

"She sure is. I understand, I felt the same way when I met her the first time. Before we get too off track, and I know we will, because I can talk about my princess nonstop and never run out of things to say about her. I have a plan, but I need help getting Indya where I need her at the right time. Indya never gave me a chance to explain anything about that article. That picture is old, from when I first got drafted—Mallory was not in Portland the last time I was there. I thought if you invited her, she would be more inclined to show up."

"Of course! I would be thrilled to help, just tell me when and where and I can adjust my schedule, if need be," he says excitedly. I'm glad he is willing to help, if I know Indya like I think I do, she will go along with anything her brother plans for them.

"Great. If it is easier I can meet you at your house, that way you don't have to rearrange much. I will let you know when I have all the plans ironed out, that way you know where to bring your sister and when."

Silas nods, agreeing with the plan, but the knot in my stomach is getting tighter. I know I need to bring up the situation with his dad and Indya. I'm just not sure how to approach it. I figure the best way to do it is by ripping the band aid off, just put it out there.

"I got a message from Indya when I was on my way to meet you earlier. She said she needed me, so I turned around and headed to her place while I called you and asked to meet later."

"That's good news, she is opening the line of communication, you may not need that grand gesture after all, she may do all your dirty work for you," Silas laughs.

"No, it was nothing like that. But if you want me to tell you what happened let me get it all out without interruption," I say, my tone pensive. He must see on my face the level of seriousness I am trying to convey, because I swear, he doesn't look as though he has taken a breath since his last comment.

He nods his head, so I continue.

"Your dad left her a message, telling her if she didn't return his call he was coming to her house. She wanted me there with her when she called him. When he got on the phone, he pretty much told her that between your mom and dad and Indya they can work out a joint custody agreement without getting the courts involved. If she didn't agree to that option the next option would be they would take her to court for full custody and requesting she only get visitation once a month," I pause letting him let all that sink so he can process it. Then he looks up at me and I know he is angry on Indya's behalf.

"How the hell did he get her number or her address? We sure the fuck didn't give it to him. Remember when I said I was protecting them, they are who I am protecting them from. My mom does nothing but drink, she is an emotional drunk, with no job and no ambitions for life. My "dad," if you want to call him that, is a drunk and his emotion when he is drunk is anger. I wonder if they tried to get a hold of me. I left my phone at home after I spoke to you. So if they did reach out, I will know when I get home, and I will give her a call." Silas is being filled with more rage the more he talks. I don't say anything, I just let him get it all out, because then maybe I can get some insight on what lengths his parents will go.

"This all started when they kicked Indya out of our house. This is why Asia and Emerson lives with me and has lived with me since the day I moved out at a few weeks after Indya left. They were never great parents, and apparently, David is a piece of shit, child molesting rapist, who deserves to rot in hell for what he put that girl through. My parents weren't going to let me take Asia because of how young she still was, but I fought them over it. I told them I would make sure everyone knew what David did to Indya. None of us knew what was going on and I wasn't about to fail another one of my sisters. I should have fucking protected her." His body is trembling, his rage trying to find a way out.

"I guess your mom saw a picture of the two of us in a magazine, they googled me and found my parents and my mother gave the information, after he told her Indya was their foster child and they haven't seen her for years, and that whole sob story. Trust me, my parents are crap too. So, I know my mom had an ulterior motive. As soon as I can pin her down, she will be dealt with. I can promise you that above all else."

After saying our goodbyes, we go back to our own homes. Silas said not to worry about his parents, that he would take care of it. I made sure he understood that I want to know what happens and if he needs me for anything, to just give me a call.

An hour later, he sent me a message and said he was heading out of town and would update me when he returned.

***

Lady Luck must be on my side today, I woke up, got my workout in, went to the clubhouse and watched tapes of the last couple of times we played the teams we are up against again next week. The playoffs start in two weeks with the Wildcard Series, so we need to be at the top of our game and prepared for everything.

After I leave the clubhouse, it is close to nine in the morning. After making some calls to set up something special for Indya, I head to my condo.

As I am stepping on the elevator, my phone rings, it's my mother. I answer quickly.

"Mom, nice of you to return my calls," I say as a way of answering.

"Do not start with me so early this morning, son. I just got off the plane and saw all the calls and messages. Did something happen while I was gone?" She is trying to act concerned, but that shit is not going to fly with me.

"Everything is fine. I just wanted to have lunch with you and catch up. We have both been extremely busy and unavailable; you have missed out on a lot of my life the past couple of months, Mom," I try to play it off, like I don't know she is up to something. Hopefully, it works because the game we are playing right now, Mom is the international champion.

"Oh, that would be lovely, dear. Want to meet at the Italian place I like for lunch today? You know the one I'm talking about, right? I can call and set up a reservation for eleven, since you have to be at practice at noon," she says, playing right into my hand. What she doesn't know is we don't have normal practice today—it is all tapes and workouts. My next tape time is at four this evening.

"Yeah, that is perfect, that way I can eat something light before practice. Message me and let me know if you can't get the reservation made—that way, we can come up with another game plan."

She scoffs like she dares them to not let her reserve a table for lunch. We say our goodbyes as I walk into my house. Great, everyone is already here. My day keeps getting better and better.

I walk into the Italian restaurant and spot my mother right away. I bypass the host stand and head straight for the back table. The table is in an area where things are seen but not heard, my mother's favorite.

I lean down to kiss her cheek, "Good to see you, Mom. How are you?" I know, I am a shit person, I am laying on the charm, thick, so she will believe I am just dotting on her, which she enjoys.

"I am well, son. How is getting ready for the playoffs? Are the Legends going to make it all the way this year?" I chuckle, one, because she, too, is laying it on thick, and two, she could care less about the game or the team but still asks, knowing she could give two fucks what happens in baseball.

"We are getting ready, lots of practice, training and watching tapes. We are hoping we have the edge to win the World Series."

We order our food. Mom gets the Insalata di Mare , a seafood salad and for myself, I ordered Shrimp and Zucchini Risotto. Mom is drinking a glass of white wine—my guess is the Giacomo Conterno Montfortino, Barolo Riserva , because of the price tag, over $1200 a bottle. She must always keep up appearances. I drink sparkling water with lemon; my mother would die if I just said I want water with lemon without it being sparkling. It is just water, so I couldn't care less.

"So, Mom, I asked you to lunch under false pretenses," I start off. The look she gives me—shocked, because why would I trick her and not just want to constantly bend to her will. Still, I continue to get out what I need to so I can get back to my house for more important things.

"I received a text from Indya, breaking up with me, a while back. Of course, I was heartbroken—still am—but more than anything, I was confused as to why she no longer wanted to be with me. So, I did as she asked and didn't try to contact her. This went on until recently. I found out about an article that was posted at the time she broke my heart. So of course, like any scorned man, I went to the source. I figured it was Mallory alone that concocted this plan, but when she cornered me in my garage, and I took her up to my condo to talk about everything, the pieces all came together."

I give her a moment to let it all sink in, hoping she will come to the conclusion I have all the facts, and she is not going to like what is about to happen. But no, she hears what she wants to hear and draws her own conclusions that are far from actuality.

"I'm so glad you two are working it out. I knew you and Mallory were perfect for each other, and will have a long, beautiful, successful life together. I just know it is going to make our winery that much more successful being tied to their hotels," she coos dreamily.

"No, that is not how that went down. But for your information, I made it abundantly clear to her, that she is not wanted by me, now or ever. If she ever comes in my vicinity ever again, near my home or the ballpark, among other things, I will slap her with a restraining order."

Mom's eyes widen and her face is beginning to heat. She is pissed off, but she won't raise her voice or make a scene. The restaurant is packed for lunch, which is why she chose this place to begin with, and it has backfired on her.

"Also, Lyra may have shown up and beat the shit out of her. Again. So, no, we are not together or working anything out. I know you helped with the article by sending in what you wanted to be said. Why would you do that to me? I was happy, extremely happy being with Indya. I loved her with everything in me, and I still do. But again, you didn't like that outcome, so you had to poison what you wanted to get rid of, her. Why would you not want your children to be happy in all aspects of their lives, Mom? Isn't that what all parents want for their children, happiness?"

Her face is stone, and she is having a hard time keeping herself in check, wanting to retaliate but can't because of her precious reputation. Again, I continue on, not giving her a chance to speak.

"Is there anything you would like to confess to before anything else comes to light, Mom? Because right now, I am more than pissed at you. I am filled with so much anger and resentment toward you it is unreal. If there is anything else you want to add, now is the time."

She gazes out the window, taking in the Columbia River and the surrounding trees and greenery. The leaves are finally showing signs of fall, with vibrant reds, oranges, and yellows standing out against the green that still clings on. The beauty of the outside is being overrun by my mother's ugliness and unrealistic wants.

"I was only trying to help you find true happiness, Atlas. Can you blame me for that? Having our family connected to the Whitman's is beneficial to both sides. With our winery and their hotels and restaurants that serve our wines, which would make our social standing stronger. I don't understand why you think I am doing any of this to hurt you. I am only trying to help our family. What the world sees when they look at us is important, if they don't like what they see, they can stop buying what we produce, and it would not only hurt us financially, but socially."

I honestly can't believe Van, Lyra, and I are her children. She only cares what others think and the reputation our last name holds in society. My father is no better, he is so absent, looking for other ways to make more money and have more and better than anyone around him.

"What does Dad think of you meddling this way? Have you seen him lately? Because to be honest, Mom, I have not seen or spoken to him since we had dinner in Portland after my game, and that was only for a moment. Where has he been and what has he been doing?"

There is something she isn't telling me. Something is going on inside that mammoth of a house they call a home, that none of us know about. Every time I ask her about dear old dad, she begins to fidget and will not look me in the eyes. No matter what it takes, I will have answers before I let her leave this restaurant. Today is the day and I want all the answers.

"I haven't seen or spoken to your father since the dinner after the game. If I tell you this, the information goes no further than the two of us, do I make myself clear, Atlas? I mean it," her words are sharp, so I nod, agreeingly.

"Your father and I are separated, only coming together for important things like the gala and supporting you at your games. We will still present ourselves as a united front for the outside world. However, inside our home, it is just me and the help. He is staying in a condo in Portland doing God knows what, with God knows who. But as long as our reputation stays intact, we're both still getting what we want. This is what works for us," she says, so cold and uncaring. I wonder if their marriage was ever one of love or if it was just convenience of wealth and power.

"That explains a lot then. I appreciate you telling me, so now I understand more when it comes to Dad. But seriously, Mom, are there going to be any other surprises when it comes to my life? I think I have been more than fair to you. I tell you when you do something I dislike, though, you never change your ways, continuing to do what you want.

"My reputation and social standing are not connected to the family business. It is connected to the number eight and the Riverside Legends. My name is known because of baseball, not you or dad, not even Evander or Lyra. If you type Kensington into google search, I am the thing that comes up first and the most, not the family, not the business, not any of the things you seem to think are important like reputation and where we rank among the other wealthy people in the world. My stats, and information I have with baseball, and every now and again, when you pull shit like you have been, articles of me that are untrue. How do you think that makes me feel, Mom?"

She just sits there, alternating between looking at her bowl of salad and the window, randomly taking sips from her wine glass. She isn't getting it, she will never care about who she hurts along the way, as long as she gets her way. But I am putting an end to it, today.

"I feel like I am not getting anywhere with you, Mom. You only hear the things you want to hear. When you don't hear the things you want, you add words of your own and twist everything around, so it becomes what you wanted in the first place. But I can't have you doing that anymore. This is the last time you try and alter my future. The next time this happens, you will lose me, so for your sake and mine, I hope there is nothing else," I tell her as I begin to stand.

I push in my chair, and walk to her side, kissing her cheek in goodbye, then turn to leave. She says nothing, she just sits there as I walk out the door. God, let there be nothing else.

When I get back home, not even an hour later, Amara is waiting in the lobby for me. She is sitting on a black oversized chair, reading a magazine from the glass table that is situated in front of her. When she hears Leo greet me, she looks up.

"Hey, Amara. I didn't realize you would be here, how are you," I say.

"Don't give me that shit, Atlas. I am so pissed at you—you are lucky I don't kick your ass where you stand. So, if we could head up to your apartment, I would appreciate it. I don't need to be sent to jail for any of the actions I take if I dislike what comes out of your mouth," she snipes before standing and snatching her bag and jacket off the back of the chair.

As she stomps her way to the elevator door, I follow. "Of course. Is everyone okay?" I ask nervously, hoping that nothing has happened to Indya or Haven.

Thankfully the elevator has the ability to take me straight to my home, so the ride is brief. When the doors open, Amara stomps her way into my living room, tossing her shit on my couch. She still hasn't said anything, but she looks as though she is trying to calm herself down.

I take this moment to tell her everything that has happened since the night Indya ripped my heart from my chest. I figure if she isn't going to start, then I will, making sure she knows what she saw the last time she was here, was not as it seemed. What happens next, shocks the living shit out of me.

"I really hope everything you told me is the truth, Atlas. Or did you leave some things out? You didn't have to see her so sad all those weeks. She would cry so hard at night, and I could hear her in my room. There was nothing I could do to make it better or less painful for her. That article and picture destroyed her. Don't you have people in your line of work who are supposed to know what is being published about you? People who take care of these types of things before they ruin the lives of the ones that you are supposed to love. What about the engagement party she was invited to? Did you have a hand in that too, because that was as low—" I cut her off, because that catches me off-guard.

"What the fuck do you mean inviting her to an engagement party? I don't know anyone getting married to go to a party," I can tell my question confuses her by the way her brows furrow and head tilts. Even some of the anger she was holding has dissipated.

Amara tells me about how my mother showed up and the invitation she gave to Indya. I could strangle my own mother right now. How could she keep doing this? What is it about Indya that she dislikes so much? If my mother would give her a chance, she would see the kind of person Indya is—kind, generous, beautiful, and most importantly, perfect for me.

I am standing there shocked, hurt, and disappointed. Disappointed in myself, my career choice, my life choice, but most of all, my mother. I just asked her if there was anything else, and she did not say a word. Still, she continues on, ripping my world apart even more.

"Do you know what she asked me not long ago, while she was sobbing so hard in my arms, I felt helpless? She asked me what she did in life to deserve the things she has been through. She asked why she deserved her parents dying, being put into foster care, being molested and raped, and all the other shit she had to deal with from the age of seven until now. She wanted to know why she didn't deserve love, Atlas, love.

"All she has ever wanted in life was to be loved, like her parents loved her for the first seven years of her life. Can you imagine being seven and growing up without love and affection, a loving touch, protection from those who are supposed to protect you, only to hurt you? She has been through so much, and your family and ex-girlfriend decided it would be grand to invite her to a celebration for a man she opened up to and loved hard. How do you forgive someone for this? Tell me how?"

Amara is now in my face, yelling and screaming out each question. My heart breaks for Indya right now. I can feel my eyes tearing up, all my anger and sadness trying to find a way out. My eyes meet Amara's, and I take a step back; she, too, has tears in her eyes but she is determined to control when they are released.

"I didn't know my mother went to your home and did all of that. I know that is no excuse. I can promise you, all of you, there is no engagement. I did not know about a party, and yes, the people on the Legends PR team should have caught this, but there are times when things slip through the cracks. I will fix this, I swear on everything I love, I will fix this." I hit the elevator button and step in, leaving Amara in my home again. I am fixing this now. No more chances, no more anything. I am done.

I enter my mother's home, nodding at the housekeeper, who lets me in and tells me my mother is in the library. When I walk in, I should be shocked at what I see, but at this point, nothing to do with my mother is shocking.

"I see you did not heed my warning, Mallory. You will be served with a restraining order before dinner time. No, get out of my sight," I growl as I walk in and see what looks like a planning of sorts.

"Atlas, have some class, and don't speak to guests in my home that way, it is beneath you. This is not how I raised you to behave," my mother scolds me.

Mallory looks like she is unsure of who to side with, I get it, my mother could do a lot of damage to her reputation and her family's, but neither of them has ever seen what I am capable of.

I pull out my phone contacting my attorney first, letting him know to have the restraining order against Mallory filed right away and served before dinner tonight. Yes, the order was already drawn up, has been for quite some time now, I just have never filed it through the appropriate channels.

"That call was to my attorney—I am sure you both heard. This next call will be to the police to have you escorted off the property. The restraining order is already complete and being filed as we speak, the officers can escort you home just in time for the delivery."

"I am going, please don't call the police, which will be made public," Mallory pleads, then rushes out the door, purse in hand.

"Now for you, mother. I gave you the chance to come clean, not even an hour ago, and you didn't. Did you think I would not find out I was involved in an engagement I knew nothing about? Was I just going to be told about this engagement when I was coerced into going to the party, under false pretenses? I told you this was it, the last time."

She looks as though she has done nothing wrong, the binder shows wedding arrangements sits in front of her. She is not hiding what she and Mallory were doing when I walked in, she no longer cares. Still, she says nothing to defend her actions, which is fine, because I don't want to hear anymore lies spew from her lips.

"I will no longer accept any invites to any event that is linked to your name, as a host or a guest. You will not contact me in any way, you are no longer welcome in my home, at my games, or in any aspect of my life. As far as I am concerned, I no longer have a mother, and you no longer have me as a son. I told you to stop, and you didn't. This is the last time you meddle in anything I care about.

"Never in my life have I ever been ashamed of being a part of this family, of wearing the name Kensington on the back of my jersey. Just know, I will do everything in my power to get that changed. I am going to call my manager and have him arrange a meeting with the entire organization to get my jersey changed to Atlas. I hope they will bend the rules just to spite you. If they don't agree, just know every time I wear the name, I am embarrassed, ashamed, hurt, and angry that I have yours and even dads DNA running through my body."

I turn and leave, not looking to see if she has anything to say, or what emotion is showing on her face. I will never step foot in this house again. She knows what she needs to do to end this, and if she doesn't, she will lose me forever.