Playbook (The Holland Brothers 2), page 28
She coils herself around me, squeezing me like she thinks she can take away all the pain.
Letting out a breath and feeling more tired than I have in years, I drop my stare to her face. She’s so beautiful. So perfect.
“I don’t know why either,” she says, offering me a sympathetic smile. “But you didn’t do anything.”
I look away from her, but she reaches up and tugs my chin down until I meet her gaze again. “I can’t tell you why they didn’t, but I’d venture it has everything to do with them and nothing to do with you. You are the most wonderful man I have ever met. You bring so much happiness to everyone in your life. You are funny and considerate, hard-working, talented, sweet.” She drops her hand to my chest. “The way that you make people feel says so much about your character. Anyone who doesn’t love you just hasn’t gotten to know you.”
Silence falls between us, but she continues to hold on to me and pierce me with those stunning green eyes. The need to flee is so strong but fuck, I don’t want to leave her either. She’s the best thing that’s happened to me since the Holland family.
“I should go. I’m in a shit mood and I don’t think anyone wants me back inside.”
“I do.”
I try to smile at her, but I don’t know if I manage it. “Can you catch a ride home with your sister?”
“Yeah.”
I pull back slowly.
“Brogan.” The plea in her tone almost undoes me as we break apart. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Fine. I’m really sorry.” I’m so ashamed that I made this whole night about me and embarrassed her in front of her family.
She steps forward, wrapping her arms around me again. “Text me tomorrow?”
I don’t say anything. I want to, but then what? I need…something. I don’t even know what. All I want to do is slam my fist into a wall repeatedly.
“I need a couple of days. Is that okay?” I ask.
A flicker of hurt passes over her expression, but she nods. “Of course it is.”
She steps away this time and my chest feels hollow.
“Hey,” I say quietly.
She glances over her shoulder at me. I don’t say anything, just smile the best I can.
“I’m here if you need anything,” she says.
“Yeah.” I nod. “I just need to clear my head for a day or two.”
Her mirroring nod is the only reply I get before she disappears back into the restaurant.
God, she’s so understanding. I love her for that. I love her, period. And it’s just about the worst fucking time to have that realization.
I let out a long breath, already wishing I could run after her. But fuck, she deserves so much better. If my own fucking parents don’t want me, why would anyone else?
THIRTY-FOUR
Iinvite Paige over the following day so I can unload and get another opinion. I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around everything that’s happened the last twenty-four hours.
“I’d like to buy him a drink. God, I wish I could have seen your dad’s face. Did that vein in his forehead bulge?” Paige’s eyes light up with excitement at the visual.
“I don’t know. Brogan ran off and then I followed…” I groan and fall over onto the couch, burying my head in a throw pillow. “I pushed him too hard.”
“He said he was fine.”
“But I knew he wasn’t. I could tell he was faking it and I dragged him into my family drama while he was still reeling from his own.”
“You couldn’t have known that it was going to end with him yelling at your dad.”
“No, I definitely never imagined that.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Nothing. He said he needed some time.”
She gives me a sympathetic smile, then comes to sit next to me and lets me rest my head in her lap. She strokes my hair, and I close my eyes and let all the sadness wash over me.
“What if he never lets me in?”
“Then we’ll get Pat to recruit some friends to jump him.”
The image makes me laugh. “They’d probably fangirl instead.”
She joins in with my laughter. “My hubby’s got my back.”
She’s just stating facts, but it twists the knife in my gut. Brogan has my back, but he won’t let me have his. Or maybe he just can’t. I don’t know what to do. But I miss him.
Over the next week, I do my best to not hover or worry about Brogan. I fail miserably, but I keep busy. There is an endless list of wedding to-do’s now that the wedding is only weeks away.
Today I’m distracting myself at Sierra’s apartment where I am inundated with little name cards. Her calligrapher bailed at the last minute and what good is an artsy sister if she won’t handwrite a few names? That was her pitch, which was only convincing because I need the distraction. And for the record, a few turned out to be a hundred. Twice as many, really, since nearly a third of them are quickly placed in the redo pile.
“Have you talked to Dad?” she asks only when I’m on the last stack of twenty cards.
“No.” I glance up after I finish writing Gretchen. The G is a little wonky, but I’m not redoing it. “Have you?”
“No. I’m on your side.”
“I don’t want there to be sides.” Especially right before the big day. Especially after comparing it to what Brogan is going through. I’m still hurt that my parents don’t support me, but it doesn’t feel as important as it did. “Everything is such a mess.”
“Look, I’m not thrilled you and Dad aren’t speaking thirteen days before the wedding, but it was bound to happen eventually. And bad timing aside, I’m glad Brogan said something. You never would have, and Dad needed to hear it.”
I avert my stare back to the next name on the list. Sierra reaches out and places a hand over mine, stopping me from my task.
“I’m sorry that it wasn’t me. It should have been.”
“No.” I look up, surprised that she’s trying to take it on. “I don’t blame you at all. If anyone was going to say something, it should have been me.”
“I have listened to Dad dismiss and disregard your art since we were kids. Little jabs or acting like it wasn’t as impressive as me winning a trophy in whatever sport I was playing. I liked that he was proud of me and I think I was afraid that if I did speak up, I’d lose that special bond with him. You are so brave for following your dreams.”
I drop the pen and place my other hand on top of hers. “It was a fucked situation. I would have probably done the same if I were you.”
She gives me a thankful smile, her blue eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Let’s promise each other that we’ll stand up for ourselves from now on. Okay? And for each other.”
“I promise.”
She nods, satisfied with our promise, and I go back to writing names while she stacks them neatly in order of table.
“How is Brogan?” she asks, her voice regaining some of her usual bubbliness. “Is he nervous about the game tonight?” She stops and looks up at the ceiling. “Do they get nervous?”
“I don’t know,” I say, smiling at her.
“Ben is nervous enough for the both of them. Kansas City’s offensive unit is meshing really well right now and their zone defense is the best in the league.”
I stare at her a beat, trying to make sense of the words that just came out of her mouth. “You’ve been watching too much SportsCenter.”
She laughs it off but a second later, she asks, “So how is he?”
“I don’t know.” I’m careful not to look at her but to keep my voice even. For some reason, I don’t want her to know how sad I am. There has been enough drama right before her wedding and she doesn’t need any more. Plus, she’ll probably give me some happily ever after nonsense, and I don’t think I can stomach it today. “We haven’t talked much. He’s dealing with some family stuff.”
“Yeah, I gathered that from his outburst about his dad. I know you probably don’t want to say, but is everything there okay? There’s family drama and there’s family drama, and it sounds like he might have the latter.”
“I really don’t know.”
Her brows furrow.
“He won’t talk to me about it. I have tried, but he always shuts down.” I sit back and drop the pen to the table. “I don’t want to force him to talk to me, but I don’t know how else to be there for him.”
“Sometimes people keep secrets because they don’t want to admit it to themselves, much less to you or me. If his situation is as bad as I think it must have been, then I doubt it’s easy to talk about, even if he cares about you. Which we both know he does. He’s crazy about you.”
“So, what do I do?”
“You just show up for him. Let him know you’re a safe space and when he’s ready, you’ll be there.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“Isn’t it?”
I consider it for a minute. It’s not the worst advice I’ve ever been given.
“When did you get so much smarter than me?”
“Oh, about fourth grade.” She grins.
I toss my pen at her without the cap on it and it lands ink side first on one of the name cards.
“Ah, no. You crossed out Chris.” She holds it up to show me.
“If only it were that easy. He’s been texting me about wedding things.” I make a face.
“Really?” Her brows shoot up. “And you’re replying?”
“Yes.” Begrudgingly. “We have planned the rehearsal dinner and the toasts.”
“And he’s still alive.” She grins. “You really do love me.”
After I finish the name cards, I head home. On my way I go by to check my mail. The time with Sierra did wonders for my mood. I don’t have a clue how to fix any of it—the stuff with my dad or Brogan—but I feel less helpless than I did earlier.
I pull out the envelopes and shove them under one arm while I lock the box and shove the key in my purse. As I’m walking out, I rifle through to see if there’s anything aside from junk. I stop in my tracks when I see the letter addressed to #6. Complete with pink pen and little red hearts. No perfume or lipstick, so that’s something.
Whoever sorted the mail wouldn’t have realized this was meant for Brogan without his name clearly written out, so it didn’t get forwarded with the rest of his mail. I smile at the envelope.
I consider texting him. Maybe I could take a picture of it, break the ice that way? I snap a pic but delete the text before I send it. He wanted space, and I want to honor that.
Sierra’s words are still floating around in my head though. Show up for him. Make sure he knows I’ll be there for him when he’s ready.
I tap my thumb on the envelope and then an idea hits me.
As soon as I get home, I run into Alec in the kitchen. He looks at me with wide eyes that tell me I must look like a woman on a mission. I am. A mission to show the man I love just how much he means to me.
“I need a favor.”
THIRTY-FIVE
“Thanks for coming.” I get to my feet as Sabrina stands in front of the outdoor table. I decided meeting outside of the apartment might be easier and less awkward.
“Of course.” She clutches her purse to her side and takes a seat across from Archer. My best friend is glaring at my maybe sister.
“This is my friend, Archer,” I tell her. “Archer, this is Sabrina.”
“His brother,” Archer corrects me. He doesn’t usually care what I call him: friend, brother, teammate, but he’s staking a claim right now and while I find it mildly amusing, Sabrina looks confused.
“Wait, did they put you up for adoption too?” She looks at me for answers and my throat tightens.
“No, they didn’t, but I went to live with Archer and his family when I was fourteen. He and his brothers took me in because things were bad at home.”
I take a drink of my water. This is going to be harder than I thought. I haven’t talked about my family in years, and of course she’s going to have questions.
“Do you want something to drink?” I ask, tipping my head to the inside café.
“Yeah, I think I’ll grab a coffee.” She starts to get up, but Archer pushes back and stands first.
“I got it,” he says tersely. Fuck. I hope he doesn’t spit in it. He pauses and it looks like it physically hurts him to ask, “Cream and sugar?”
“Yeah. Please.”
With a nod, he goes back inside, and Sabrina and I settle into our chairs.
“So…” My leg bounces under the table.
She places her hands on the table and taps her fingers. “So…”
Sabrina breaks first, smiling and then laughing. “This is awkward.”
“So awkward,” I agree.
“Look, I didn’t badger you for months because I thought we’d be automatic besties. I know this is a lot and you must be surprised to see me or to know I exist. I wasn’t sure until I started trying to contact you if you were even aware you had a sister, but I’m guessing now you didn’t know?”
“Definitely not. How’d you find out?”
“My parents never kept it a secret from me that I was adopted, but it wasn’t until about six months ago that I started feeling like I might want to find my birth mom and dad.”
“Did you find them?” I ask. Maybe she hasn’t reached out to them yet and I can save her the heartache.
“I haven’t been in contact with them if that’s what you mean.”
I don’t know what I mean. This whole conversation is so bizarre.
“I sent a letter, but never heard back.” She shrugs. “Then I found you and I realized I cared less about them and more about knowing you. Maybe we didn’t grow up together or have the same circumstances, but I felt like I had to meet you. My parents are my parents, ya know, but a brother…” She trails off. “My parents didn’t have other kids, so I guess I liked the idea of having a sibling. I’m sorry. I’m not explaining it all very well. It just felt important that I meet you.”
Archer reappears and sets her coffee down on the table in front of her.
“Thanks,” she says.
“You look like our mom,” I tell her, then wonder if that’s a weird thing to say. Fuck, it’s all weird.
“I do?”
I nod. “She has red hair too and the eyes are Dad.” Hers are brown like mine.
“Does anyone else have asthma?”
“Not that I know of. Do you?” Am I allowed to ask that? I guess it’s too late to worry about it now.
“Yeah, it’s pretty bad. My doctor said it was probably genetic.”
“Maybe our grandparents did. I never met any of them. Mom’s parents died when she was young, and Dad didn’t talk to his family.”
“Seems like a common theme.”
I don’t know if she means it as a dig, but I feel a little judged. I guess it’s her family too so if she’s judging me, then she’s judging herself as well.
“Where did you grow up?” I ask.
“Flagstaff.”
All this time she’s been so close, and I had no idea.
“What do you do?” Archer asks. I’d forgotten he was here, but his hard tone reminds me that he is and he’s still not on board.
“I’m a dance teacher. Or I was. I really want to open up my own studio but first I have to figure out where I want to settle.”
“That’s cool. You dance?” A sister that’s a dancer. Each new detail feels like this secret puzzle.
“All my life.” She nods. “I played some other sports too. Never football though.”
That makes me grin, and the awkwardness between us starts to dissipate.
“I’ve been working at a night club as a cage girl while I’m here. Lilac Lounge. Do you know it?”
Archer nudges me and then signs. Did your secret sister just say she’s a stripper?
No. I glare at him as I sign.
“Sorry,” I say to Sabrina. “He was just making sure he understood what you were saying. Archer is deaf but he’s pretty good at reading lips.”
She looks at my best friend in the whole world. “I dance with my clothes on, but stripping is honest work and nothing to be ashamed of.”
My jaw drops, and Arch and I both stare at her in surprise.
“What? I know ASL.” Then she stops speaking and signs, If you are going to talk shit about me, you will have to find another way.
A rough chuckle escapes my mouth. “Ignore him. He’s just overprotective.”
“I get it. My friends weren’t thrilled about me meeting up with some guy who might be my brother either, but I had to know.”
“I’m glad you did,” I say, and once the words are out, I know they’re true. It might have been a lot less lonely growing up if she’d been around. Maybe that can still be true.
“I’m driving back to Flagstaff this afternoon, but I’ll be back next week. I know I dumped a lot on you, so I’ll let you think about all of it and get back to me.” She smiles. “I promise not to pop up out of nowhere again, but I do think it’d be cool to spend some more time together, if you want.”
I scan the crowd as Archer and I walk out onto the field for the game. It’s early still. Only the hardcore fans are in their seats while the teams warm up.
My stomach churns when I don’t see her. I knew London wouldn’t be here. I asked for space and she’s given it to me, but it still hurts not to see her in her usual spot.
“The guys are here.” Archer turns and points toward a section where we often get seats for family and friends. Hendrick, Knox, and even Flynn are sitting side by side. When they see us looking, they all wave in unison. Flynn even sort of smiles.
I wave back, shocked.
“Did you tell them about Sabrina?” I ask, turning back to Archer and signing the question too.
“No way. That’s not my place. You can tell them when you’re ready.”
I’m relieved, though I can’t say why.
“I don’t understand then,” I say.
