[18+]
College student Hadley Bell is eager to return home for the holidays, but there's a problem. Her ex-no. 44 Nick Baker, Professional Snocross Racer and member of the Bell Race Team, still resides under her parent's roof.
Tensions run high, and...
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"Nicolas Baker, she's gonna run into a tree!"
I smiled at my mother from the island, kneading dough for cinnamon rolls in a giant glass bowl. "She's fine," I assured, referring to my five-year-old daughter ripping around on her Indy EVO in her grandparent's backyard. A brand new sled my husband and I bought her for Christmas. "She can't go very fast." Thanks to her overprotective father, who tightened the pin and ran next to her in eager excitement. "He has the leash," I reminded. "All he has to do is tug, and it'll kill the motor."
My mother wasn't convinced. A hand held over her heart, and the worry seeping into me. "Paul!"
From the yard, my father yelled, "She's fine!"
"She's too young to be on that sled!"
I chuckled, catching the sound of the adorable little engine rev up, then her papa's bark of laughter.
I'd calculated everything in days from the start of Baker's sobriety. One thousand, eighty-one days marked the day we gave birth to our daughter.
I smiled at the dough I was rolling in my mother's kitchen, remembering that night as clear as day. Little Nadine Baker came into the world at 2:28 am, eighteen hours after I felt that first contraction. I'd never seen Baker move so fast. Not even on the track. He tossed the bags into the truck, helped me down the stairs of our home, and drove as fast as he could to the hospital, where he waited in dreaded anticipation.
"She's five," I casually mentioned to my mother, not that she was even paying attention with the high-stress level. "We were her age."
"And I yelled at your father then, too," she shot back.
I shook my head. There was no convincing her. Nadine Baker was their first grandchild and was on her way to becoming spoiled.
I blamed it on my parents. And on Baker's father who brought her new presents every time he and his wife Susan came over for dinner. Then there were her stupid uncles, one of whom was due to return with the brown sugar and cinnamon spice I requested. But mostly, I blamed it on her father, who wanted nothing more than to give her the life he might've had had his father stopped drinking.
I wiped my hands on a tea towel, making my way to the French doors my mother left open for all the heat to escape.
There they were, my daughter, my father, and my husband. The latter two chasing her around the mini track her uncle Johnny built for her and Lily–Nate's daughter.
The last eight years had been incredible. Full of ups and downs for both Baker and me, but I wouldn't change it for the world.
His smile was the brightest I'd ever seen as he ran alongside her, glancing back at my winded father every second. But it was nothing compared to the day she was born.
He cried over us and thanked me over and over again as he took her and selfishly kept her most of the night.
I didn't mind. And I didn't mind all the mornings he woke up with her and all the nights he lulled her to sleep. Nadine was a handful, a fact she proved the older she got.
