Chapter 18
My mom was in heaven. The house was loud, full of people and noise—even if half the table was full of football players not currently related to her—and she was able to feed all of them. The sheer breadth of food they put away was astounding, and she took that challenge to heart.
Even though it was a weeknight, she’d prepared a full Sunday dinner—tender roast in her mom’s gravy recipe, cheesy mashed potatoes, roasted vegetables with perfectly charred edges dripping in butter and seasoning, and some warm, crusty rolls that had Parker’s teammate Jamari hoarding the basket on his lap.
“Wilder, I would look like an O-lineman if I ate this food all the time,” he said, wolfing down another roll from the basket hidden underneath the table. “It’s incredible, Mrs. Wilder.”
Sheila waved it off. “Thank you, Jamari. I love feeding my family, so you’re welcome anytime, honey.”
Parker snatched the basket out of his grasp, and the two tussled good-naturedly as he passed it back around the table.
Jamari shrugged. “You can take the bread, asshole. Your mom just gave me a free pass to come back, so that means I win.”
Everyone laughed, including Parker, and I watched him carefully out of the corner of my eye.
Of the whole family, Parker had taken our dad’s sickness and passing the hardest—seemingly unable to even come home to face the reality that we were about to lose a second parent to cancer in our lifetime. He’d come to his senses by the end, arriving home for a family weekend a couple of weeks before my dad passed and able to say his goodbyes. In my head, I thought my younger brother had made his peace.
But he didn’t look good.
Underneath his eyes, I noticed dark circles and a slight downturn to his mouth when he thought no one was looking. Brotherly concern swelled, and I found myself watching him as I ate.
If my sister Adaline talked about being happy, able to move forward because of how ready Dad had been at the end, how at peace he was, then Parker looked the opposite. When his teammates started talking to Cameron and Ivy about something, Parker looked down at his plate, moving his food around, a deep breath expanding his chest. On the slow exhale, he closed his eyes.
I’d seen none of this at the practice. He was energetic and kind, working with the kids with patience and a great sense of humor. I’d never cultivated the ability to wear a mask, which is why most people who didn’t know me kinda thought I was a dick, but I’d never understood the point of faking it.
But maybe that was because I’d cultivated my life in a way that naturally supported that side of my personality. I worked a job that was fairly solitary and didn’t expand my circle beyond what I felt I could maintain. I was wary of outsiders, of new people who pressed into that circle.
My younger brother was on the world’s largest stage, every part of his life and abilities up to be judged, and I guess that did require some performing. Especially on days like this.
I felt my brow furrow as I watched him, and that’s when Poppy nudged my foot.
“What?” she whispered.
“He looks exhausted, doesn’t he?”
My sister hummed. “A bit, yeah. I just figured it was because it was midseason.”
“I think it’s more than that.”
“Dad?” she asked.
I inclined my chin in a slight nod.
“He hasn’t said anything when we’ve talked,” Poppy said.
I gave her a quick look. “You talk to him a lot?”
She shrugged, jaw working on a bite of her roll. “Once a week or so. Less than I talk to Adaline and Greer. More than I talk to Erik though.”
“Yeah, well, Erik has horrible conversation skills.”
She laughed. “That’s rich, coming from you.” Her eyes turned speculative. “I think I have more conversations with Parker than I do you, actually.” Before I could respond to that, Poppy patted my arm. “Don’t worry, I don’t take it personally.”
What Harlow said the other night at the bar chose that precise moment to resurface in my head. Something about how unaware I was about the way I showed up in relationships.
I didn’t think I was unaware, but maybe it was more that I didn’t spend any time picking apart those interactions either. My mental energy always felt like a limited, finite resource. If I wasn’t careful, I could go through the day and be tapped completely dry. Inviting in too many opinions drained it just as easily as too much stimulation, too much energy in the room. I could do nights like this on occasion, but if I didn’t have time in my own space to recharge, that’s when things got dicey.
But hearing that from my sister, I felt shame. For the first time in my life, I wished that I could undo just a little bit of my time away. Make more of an effort. See my siblings more. Talk on the phone more regularly.
But I couldn’t. Now, it seemed, I was destined to sit at a table full of my family and wonder what signs I’d missed of my little brother struggling.
From the other side of me, I could tell Harlow was half-listening to our conversation, half-listening to whatever Sage was talking about with Jamari—who was across from her.
Blissfully unaware of the guilt trip I was forcing myself on, Poppy nudged my elbow.
“Watch,” she whispered. “I’ll get him to pay attention again.”
“Oh great,” I muttered.
My sister, so fresh-faced and pretty and outgoing, set her elbows on the table and leaned forward, aiming a winning smile at Cannon Bishop—the veteran defensive back. He was the biggest of the four who’d come. He hadn’t spoken much at dinner, but not because he wasn’t friendly. He just seemed a bit more reserved than his teammates.
“Cannon,” Poppy said smoothly, “tell me about yourself. Parker never talks about his friends, but I’ve always assumed it’s because he doesn’t have any.”
Everyone at the table laughed, and Parker blinked, finally snapping out of his stupor.
Cannon looked between Poppy and Parker, his mouth edging up in a smile. “What do you want to know?”
“Married? Girlfriend?” she asked, blinking innocently.
Cannon’s brow furrowed. “Uh, neither.”
Parker’s head snapped up fully, his eyes blazing. “No, Poppy.”
Poppy tilted her head. “No what?”
He jabbed a finger in the air. “No, Poppy. My teammates swore an oath to me when they agreed to come that you were fully off-limits. I will personally murder anyone on my team who even thinks about flirting with you.”
Poppy sat back with a sigh. “And everyone wonders why I’m still single. The sheer number of siblings in this family makes it impossible for me to meet anyone.”
“Parker’s no fun,” Jamari said, aiming a small wink at Poppy. “I’d risk it if you want to go out for a drink.”
She perked up. “Really?”
Parker turned in his chair, leveling a lethal glare at Jamari. Amused silence fell around the table as we watched their wordless exchange. “Really?”
Jamari laughed. “Maybe not.”
Poppy deflated.
“Cannon’s not your type anyway,” Jamari added, shoveling another bite of potatoes onto his fork. “You need someone like me with a bit more personality.”
The big guy to his left cocked an eyebrow but left the statement untouched.
Parker didn’t. “Cannon, unfortunately, is exactly Poppy’s type. Big, quiet and a little scary.” Then he leaned forward and eyed the man in question. “Which is why he’s staying away from her.”
“I’m just trying to eat my roast, dude,” Cannon muttered under his breath. “No one’s touching your sister.”
Harlow and I traded a quick look, and the brightness in her eyes had me smiling, the family and team dynamics a hay day for someone like her who loved observing people. She’d probably come out of a dinner like this with five book ideas.
Poppy set down her fork and settled back in her chair, arms folded. “I’d like to announce that I’ve moved on from the strong, silent type, and I’m now very open to new options.”
Cameron snorted. “Since when?” Then under his breath, he added, “Jax will be relieved to hear this.”
Poppy narrowed her eyes dangerously. “Since last month. I actually went on a date with someone last week. He was funny and outgoing and nice.”
Parker, Cameron, and I exchanged a quick brotherly look. Cameron’s eyebrows raised briefly, and Parker shook his head.
“Good for you, Poppy,” Ivy chimed in. “If that man can’t see how amazing you are, it’s his loss and you shouldn’t waste your time.”
“Hear, hear,” Sheila said.
Jamari grinned. “Well, if you ever want someone else to?—”
“And on that note,” Parker interrupted, “your ass can start clearing the table.”
Cannon and Miles stood too, and the four football players started on the dishes while my mom and sister laughed.
Sage was excused from the table, scampering over to the couch in the family room to find the Thursday night game. Cameron and Ivy settled in by the chess table to start a game, and I locked eyes with Harlow, then nodded my head to the front porch.
I felt my mom’s gaze on me as we walked outside, but I ignored it because, damn, it was easier. Maybe that was what Parker felt like with all of us watching him.
Harlow leaned against the railing, and in the fading daylight, I had to remind myself of what she used to look like. That I didn’t used to catch a glimpse of her and think, When did she get so fucking beautiful?
I thought it at the bar the other night, and at practice too, and not because she was a little dressed up and had a bit more makeup on than usual. I just noticed.
I noticed the coach eyeing her. Even noticed Parker’s teammates checking her out at dinner when she told a funny story about Sage.
“It was a good night,” she said.
Standing next to her, I set my hands on the railing and faced forward, looking out at my parents’ property while I nodded. “It was.”
She was quiet for a minute, then gently nudged me with her shoulder. “You’re worried about something.”
“Just saw something in Parker’s face. He didn’t look like himself at dinner.” My inhale was slow, allowing my thoughts to settle a little. “I don’t know yet. Could be nothing. But I’m going to watch to make sure it’s not something.”
“You don’t think it’s about your dad?”
My jaw clenched tight. “Probably.”
“Do you guys … talk about it when you get together?”
The question, innocent though it was, had my throat closing up, my chest getting heavy. And I couldn’t answer. Right behind us, my dad’s favorite rocking chair sat empty, and I couldn’t bring myself to turn around and look at it. Eventually, I shook my head, because she deserved an answer.
Harlow did nothing but watch me, her gaze heavy on the side of my face. “You’re a good brother, Ian.”
The praise sat uncomfortably on my skin, maybe because I felt like I hadn’t earned it. “Am I?” I heard myself ask.
Harlow turned to face me, her hip resting on the railing, that white sweater still hanging off the slope of her shoulder. I wanted to tug it up higher for the sheer lunacy of how much I was noticing the curve of her neck when she wore it.
“Yes. Of course you are.”
“I don’t feel like I am.” The words came out quiet, just above a whisper. I hadn’t admitted that to anyone. “I feel … selfish. I was gone for so long because it was easier than being here. And when I was here, it was like I forgot how to be part of a big family, and I’d pick stupid fights and needle my brothers about their shit when really, they’d have every right to do the same to me.”
“I think you’re being awfully hard on yourself,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “It’s perfectly normal to leave home to find yourself and pursue your dreams. You came home when it mattered.”
I dropped my head, staring at the ground, when I felt Harlow carefully tug at the arm closest to her until I had no choice but to face her. She took a deep breath, her eyes searching mine for a moment, and then she stepped in, coiling her arms around my waist and tucking her head underneath my chin.
The weight of her body was warm, and she smelled sweet and clean. Briefly, I closed my eyes at the tumult happening in my stomach, my heart, and my chest. Wave after wave after wave, and it didn’t go away, just crashed harder and harder on the surface.
“You’re hugging me,” I said quietly, even as my arm naturally slid down her back and anchored her close to my chest.
My person was hugging me, and with every ounce of ruthlessness I could muster, I wrenched aside the thought that it didn’t feel the way a hug from a friend should feel. Inside my head, I tried to slam down a thick metal wall—tall and black and impenetrable—against thoughts like that. Maybe if I built up a big enough barrier, I could pretend they didn’t exist.
“You looked like you needed it.” She sucked in a big breath and didn’t move. The wall in my head trembled. I didn’t want her to move, and I wanted to shove her away from me with both hands. “I hate when you don’t see yourself for who you really are, Ian Wilder. You may not be the easiest to get to know, but you are the best man I have ever met in my life.”
My skin felt too tight, the throbbing beat of my heart too loud, and the two overwhelming sensations pushed against each other like the wrong side of a magnet. One would win out, and I knew what it would be.
The feelings crested until my ribs squeezed, and after a few stops and starts, my heart managed to stumble into a stuttering rhythm.
“Best is a big word, sparky,” I said quietly, making sure my lips didn’t brush her hair as I spoke.
“It’s the right one, too.” She exhaled slowly, tightening her arms ever so slightly. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me and Sage. I don’t think I’ve said it enough. Today was … amazing. She was so happy out there.”
Words danced on the tip of my tongue, wanting desperately to downplay what she was saying. It would’ve been easy to say that I did for them what I would’ve done for anyone in my life, but in the back of my head, I knew it wasn’t the truth.
I’d do more for her. I’d always done more for her.
The reasons weren’t always clear, except even as a kid, I knew it made me feel good. It made me feel competent and strong and like the best version of myself. Her trust in me might be the thing I was proudest of. After all these years, I wasn’t sure why I deserved it anymore, but it was still there. One of the cornerstones of my life was Harlow Keaton’s trust in me, and as I stood there holding her, I knew I’d do anything to keep it.
I kept all those thoughts locked up, though. It was safer that way because they were too big, too scary to say out loud.
So all I said was, “You’re welcome.” This time, I tilted my chin, and my lips brushed the silky strands of her hair. Harlow shivered slightly but didn’t move.
Normally, I would pull back by now. She would have, too.
But we stayed like that, and I glanced up at the lingering gold in the sky left from the setting sun, breathed in the scent from her soft hair, and reminded myself that it was just a hug, and it didn’t mean anything. The big, black wall in my head stood firm, and I let the moment be what it was.