Chapter 58
Josephine
I was wrong. So damn wrong.
Despite calling a time-out, despite desperately craving normalcy and civility, sitting at the table with Decker is agonizing.
Kylian looks unbothered. Smug, even, like he knew it would be this awful.
Locke and Kendrick both seem to be tolerating Decker just fine.
It makes sense. They’ve spent more time with him over the last few weeks. Between games, practices, and going back and forth to the mansion when they weren’t with me, Decker has been in the fold more than I have.
Decker and I are the ones struggling.
And fuck, are we struggling.
“Did you, uh, did you have a chance to get outside today?” His question isn’t pointed at anyone in particular, but with the cold shoulder he’s receiving from the guys, I feel compelled to answer.
“We did.” I nod, sipping the hard seltzer K placed in front of me twenty minutes ago. I’ve palmed the can so much it’s already warm. “Kendrick and I took a hike with the girls.”
His gaze drifts to Kendrick, and unspoken words pass between them. K shakes his head once, and Decker turns back to his food.
The interaction is another reminder of how close they are, how long they’ve known each other, how awful the current state of things between them is.
Decker shoves another forkful into his mouth, chews, swallows, and clears his throat.
“It’s nice now, but the woods are especially beautiful in winter. You can come back here then if you want.”
He’s reaching.
“You could all come for the holidays.”
He’s trying too hard.
“I mean, just you. I wouldn’t have to be here. I just mean, if it would make you happy…” He trails off, ducking his head and focusing on his plate.
It’s all too much. And yet not nearly enough.
Awkward silence lingers, so I take the reins this time to fill in the void.
“I haven’t celebrated Christmas in years.” The confession is directed to no one in particular. I keep my focus trained on my hands and pick at the corner of my thumbnail.
Kylian’s responding growl has me shooting up straight and watching him.
I offered that up without thinking, and the blue flames burning in his eyes make it clear that was the wrong line of discussion for this already too-tense scene.
Decker just stares at me, unblinking.
I don’t have the courage to look at K.
Locke reaches out, offering a hand that I gladly accept. After I interlock our fingers, I sneak a glance at him and offer a soft smile.
He gets it. Christmas is just another day for kids who are living in survival mode. It’s also a very long day. When school’s been out for a week, and they don’t know when their next meal is coming, it can be brutal.
“We’ll make this year extra special,” he promises, giving my hand a squeeze.
The promise lingers, heavy and tense.
After several seconds where the only sounds are our breathing and the scrape of Decker’s fork against his plate, the table quakes.
“This can’t stand.” Kendrick scans the room, his face set in a glower, his fist pressing into the tabletop.
“K,” I warn. “Let it be. We’re still on a time-out.” As painful as this is, it’s almost over. Decker’s almost done eating. He’ll most likely excuse himself, and head to bed.
Then tomorrow.
Tomorrow…
My heart cracks and my eyes well with traitorous tears just thinking about tomorrow.
I slump back against my seat when realization hits. All we have left is the rest of this meal. The forced civility and tolerance around the table are only promised for a few more minutes.
Ignoring me, Kendrick clears his throat and lifts his chin. “This can’t stand,” he repeats. “This is bullshit, and you all know it. He’s just too stubborn to make the next move.” He points an accusatory finger at Decker.
I let out a sigh, willing my emotions to stay in check. They threaten to escape anyhow. The longer this goes on, the harder it is to hold back the tears. I don’t want them to fight.
Not now. Not over this. Not when we only have a short amount of time left.
“I’m calling you out, Cap.”
All eyes fly to Kendrick.
“Cards on the table. Full stop. What do you want?”
The silence that ensues is suffocating.
“Kendrick,” I whisper in warning, pushing back in my chair to go to him. To assuage his anger. To make him see reason.
I didn’t ask Decker to join us to force him into a confrontation. I don’t want him to think—
“No.” Kendrick raises a hand. “He needs to man up.”
Fuck, I love him. Leave it to Kendrick to imply that processing emotions and talking about feelings is the definition of manning up. “He needs to step up and own this. What do you want, Cap?”
Around the table, we’re all holding our breath.
K is sharp and emotionally intelligent in a way that’s uncanny for a twenty-one-year-old student athlete.
Maybe it’s because he lost his mom so young and was raised by a single father.
Maybe it’s his role as caregiver to two young girls.
Or maybe it’s the lupus and the acute understanding that goes along with chronic illness.
Life is short.
Say the words.
Embrace the grief.
Lean into the good.
Lean on others through the bad.
Though my stomach is in knots, I watch him and wait.
K is smart. He’s so smart. He wouldn’t put Decker on the spot like this if he didn’t know, if he wasn’t sure—
“I swear to God, Cap. I don’t want to hit you, but I’m not above beating your ass to force this conversation. What. Do. You. Want?” he grits out through clenched teeth.
Decker shoves up from his seat and storms away from the table.
I close my eyes. The sight of him turning away only pulverizes the shards of my heart into smaller, sharper pieces. How much longer, how many more rejections can it take, until all that’s left of it is dust?
But before he reaches the doorway, he pivots.
With a murderous look on his face, brows low and jaw locked tight, he storms back to the table.
He grips the top of his chair with such force it falls to the floor when he pushes it out of the way.
Stepping up, he glares at Kendrick. Looks at Locke. Eyes Kylian. Then finally, settles his gaze on me.
“Her.”
It’s a whisper. A despondent murmur. A pained and hopeless plea.
“I want her. I want you all.” He scans the boys. “I want this life. Together.”
The confession hangs in the air before it thuds onto the table like an iron cloud.
I refuse to hope. I refuse to go down this path again.
We’ve been here. We’ve done this. I can’t keep enduring this cycle. The one where Decker admits his feelings, then refuses to act on them before finally pushing me away.
“Please don’t,” I whisper, hollow, broken. Each time we battle it out, I lose another piece of myself.
K thinks he’s helping. He thinks Decker can be reasoned with. Only, he doesn’t know about last night. He doesn’t know how desperately I tried to get through to him. How steadfastly he denied me.
Ignoring me, Kendrick rises, gripping his side of the table. “What do you want, Cap?”
Before I can beg him to drop it—to leave well enough alone, to give me these last few minutes of time-out where Decker isn’t on the outs with us, to give me a moment to pretend my heart isn’t so broken and battered—Kendrick turns to me.
“Fine. He’s forcing my hand. There’s a way out of this.
There’s a way through it.” He stands taller.
“Cap and I had a conversation this morning. He knows there’s a way to edge out his father once and for all.
What I don’t know”—he sets his sights on his friend again—“is whether he’s brave enough to do it. ”
“You figured something out?” Locke sits up straighter and laces his fingers on the tabletop.
Kylian is silent as he watches the exchange.
“I had an idea, yeah. But it’s Decker’s choice. It comes down to what he wants to do.”
Decker scoffs. It’s a loud, indignant huff of outrage. “It’s not that simple,” he growls. He’s gripping the table so tightly his knuckles are white.
“That’s okay.” I release Locke’s hand and make my way to Decker. Gently, so as not to spook him, I rest my palm on his forearm, then glide my fingertips down to his wrist.
With a pained exhale, he allows me to peel his hand off the table. That’s when I take my shot. I slip into the space between his body and the wooden surface. He doesn’t budge, so it’s a tight squeeze.
“I don’t need simple,” I promise, tipping my head up and brushing the hair from his forehead. “I want you, too, Cap. Whatever it is, I’m in.”
“Josephine,” he growls in warning. “No,” I snap.
I’d stomp my foot if I had enough room to move. But as it stands, I’m trapped in his hold, even if he refuses to touch me. Refuses to look me in the eye.
“I want you. You want us. Don’t you dare dangle the possibility of a solution in front of my face, then start up on your martyr shit again. I swear to God, Decker, whatever it is, I’m in. Whatever it takes, let’s do it.”
Onyx eyes find mine. His expression is pained, forlorn, but under the surface, there’s a spark of hope, too.
“We have to get married. You and me, Josephine. You’d have to marry me.”