Chapter Thirty-Seven - Henry
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Henry
I KNOW I should be paying attention, but I can’t take my eyes off Mirabelle.
She’s standing to the side next to Stacey as they oversee my postgame press conference. Tom is hovering at the back of the room, close enough to reach her in an instant if necessary, but not so close as to draw everyone’s attention to himself.
Mirabelle finally threw me a bone and showed up at the stadium wearing the jersey I bought for her at the beginning of the season. It’s probably a good thing I didn’t know she was wearing it until after the game, I wouldn’t have been able to focus if I had known.
She frowns, glancing up at me, and Owen kicks my leg under the table.
I blink, realizing there are a lot of eyes staring at me, and I’m not sure how long I’ve been staring at her. Clearing my throat, I lean into the microphone. “Can someone repeat the question?”
There’s a chorus of laughter, and at least they find it amusing. A reporter raises her hand, drawing my attention to her. “I asked what adjustments were made during practices this week that contributed to today’s win after last week’s loss to the Cobras?” she asks, and I sip the water in front of me.
“I think it’s all about showing up. We’ve got a terrific coaching staff that worked tirelessly to review footage from this season, running drills in practice that focused on weak spots in both the offense and defense behind that loss. The guys locked in this week, putting in the work off the field, and I think that showed today. The Wolves played a great game, but all the credit for those adjustments goes to Coach Lewis and his coaching staff,” I answer, giving credit where it’s due, hoping my answer was enough for Stacey not to throw me in the doghouse for getting distracted.
Stacey climbs the stairs, steps onto the platform, and the reporters groan, knowing the conference is over. “I’m afraid that’s all the time we have today, but we hope to see you during our locker room access times this week,” Stacey says, and I take the opportunity to get the fuck off this stage because I don’t think I can go another minute without being within arm’s reach of Mirabelle.
She smiles at me as if understanding I’m unable to fight the gravitational pull in her direction, desperate to be in her orbit. I’m not embarrassed in the slightest that I was caught staring at her.
Fuck it. “You played—” I cut Mirabelle off, cupping her face in my hands, pressing a searing kiss to her sweet lips that does little to quell the raging desire I feel for her. The roar of the room fades entirely into background noise, and I can focus on nothing but the fact that Mirabelle wearing my jersey today was as much her claiming me as it was me claiming her.
I still can’t place the flavor of her lip balm, and it’s driving me mad.
Kissing Mirabelle feels like the most natural thing in the world to me. I wonder if it feels the same for her. Despite it not being enough, I reluctantly pull away as her eyes flutter open to meet mine. The flashes of the cameras in my peripheral vision are bright, but nothing is as blinding as Mirabelle’s smile.
She looks at me like I’m enough for her.
I’m the first to admit— to myself —that my issues with my biological mother are the reason I struggle in relationships. I worry I’m spending too much time focused on football to focus on them, or if they only want to be with me because of the benefits that come with being attached to me.
She’s the gift that keeps on giving with her continuous calls, making it impossible for me to forget her.
“You ready to get out of here?” I ask, lacing her fingers with mine, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand.
Not soon enough, apparently. The room explodes with excited chatter, all directed at her.
“Mirabelle, did you know?”
“How are your parents taking it?”
“Why not Duke?”
“Will Hunter start at Oceanside?”
“Mirabelle!”
What the fuck just happened?
Owen takes over the press conference, his booming voice redirecting everyone’s attention as Stacey ushers Mirabelle and me out of the room with Tom’s help.
“Go home,” Stacey instructs, and Mirabelle’s grip on my hand tightens. I half-expect Mirabelle to offer to stay, but she nods.
“Thank you,” Mirabelle says, and without responding, Stacey walks back the way we came. “Do you think our parents knew about Hunter?” she asks, glancing up at me.
“If they didn’t, they do now.” I knew Duke wasn’t going to happen, but I never thought Hunter would commit to their rival school.
Mira pulls her phone out of her pocket, frowning as she looks at the screen. “My parents said we’re all meeting at your house. I guess Kaitlyn and Hunter left during the game to go there, but they’re not answering their phones now.”
At least, for once, we’re not involved. I’ll take the wins where I can get them, but the biggest win of all is knowing I have Mirabelle by my side. I’m crazy about her. I would have saved us both a lot of grief if I had been able to accept my feelings for her sooner.
I refuse to let go of her for longer than a few seconds on the drive back to my house as Tom follows behind us in Mirabelle’s car. I need Mirabelle like a mermaid needs water to survive.
“I don’t know if I’ve told you, but you’re doing better with the press,” Mirabelle says as I pull into my neighborhood.
“Because of you,” I admit, stealing a glance at her. Goddamn, she’s so pretty. I knew she’d look incredible wearing my jersey, but it’s given me an idea for something I might like even better.
“No, Henry. It’s because of you. You’re finally letting everyone see who you are instead of refusing to speak with them at all. I’m proud of you,” she says, squeezing my hand as a lump forms in my throat.
What I’ve learned since becoming a professional athlete is that most people only like the idea of me, but she likes me . I don’t know what I did to deserve Mirabelle Walker’s affection, but I’ll do anything to keep it.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice nearly caught in my throat.
I pull into the driveway, but as Tom switches vehicles to leave for the day, everyone else arrives.
“Maybe we should go in first, in case my parents are going to yell at Hunter,” Mirabelle whispers. I wish I could try telling her she’s wrong, but considering her parents’ tempers, it’s probably a good call.
“Do you really think they’ll yell?” I ask, opening the front door.
“Who knows? It’s Oceanside,” she says, shrugging and I follow her through the doorway into the living room.
My jaw drops at the sight of Hunter and Kaitlyn making out on my couch, and it makes sense why they weren’t answering their phones. Hunter’s shirt is on the floor, and I’m ready to stare at the sun long enough for it to permanently burn my retinas.
“Oh my fucking god,” Mirabelle swears, causing them to immediately separate.
“What? Are they not here?” Thalia asks from behind us while Hunter pulls his shirt back on, but there’s no fixing their disheveled appearances.
“They’re here, but I think what you should ask is what were they doing,” Mirabelle muses, and I drag my hands over my face. I’ve been trying to wrap my head around Kaitlyn and Bailey, but now she’s with Hunter? What the hell is going on?
“What were they doing?” Sebastian asks, and this is giving me serious PTSD from when they walked in on me and Mirabelle.
Hunter’s cheeks are flaming red, and he scratches the back of his neck as he looks at Kaitlyn. “We’re together.”
Dad snorts, shaking his head. “Yeah, and I’ve been to the moon. What were you really doing? We’ve been trying to get ahold of you.”
Kaitlyn looks at me, desperation shining on her face, and I know her well enough to understand that she wants to know if I’m going to say anything about Bailey.
Sebastian tilts his head before turning to my dad. “Chris, I don’t think they’re joking.”
“We’re not,” Kaitlyn confirms.
“I’m living my dream. First, Mirabelle and Henry get together, and now Hunter and Kaitlyn? Lia, I totally called both of these relationships.” My stepmom shrieks, and I’m lost. How long has she hoped this would happen?
Hunter grabs his phone off the coffee table, his eyes widening. “Why the fuck did you call me over a dozen . . . oh . That’s why,” he mumbles, continuing to scroll.
Mirabelle rests her hands on her hips. “Sorry, we’ll circle back to this relationship, but why didn’t you tell anyone about Oceanside?” she asks.
“I’m sorry. I swear, I was going to tell everyone after the game.”
“You’re still not answering the question,” Thalia adds.
Hunter shrugs, putting his hands in his pockets. “Because I went with my gut. I knew if I asked everyone for their opinions, I wouldn’t be able to decide. I like the coaches, and one of my old teammates who I trust plays there. I have a good feeling about this, but I didn’t want to disappoint anyone.”
“Hunter, you could’ve picked a community college if it made you happy, which is the only thing we care about. I’m proud of you for going with your gut. It’s not easy to do,” Sebastian says.
“So you’re not mad I picked Oceanside?”
“I’m not mad,” he affirms, and Hunter’s shoulders relax.
Mirabelle turns to me, the initial shock gone from her face, whereas I’m afraid to open my mouth and risk saying the wrong thing. “We’re not the only Walker-Price couple anymore.”
I guess not, but this isn’t the couple I expected.
~
Wilson went out with the team tonight, but after all the excitement earlier with Hunter, I’m glad for the quiet evening at home. Mirabelle is curled up on top of me, her head resting on my chest as we watch a movie, but my mind is a million miles away. I think hers is as well.
I’m running my fingers through her hair as she keeps a slight grip of my shirt in one hand, the other resting on my chest, our legs are tangled together under the blanket.
Unfortunately, my biological mother called while Mirabelle and I were swimming tonight after everyone else had left. Somehow, she still hasn’t gotten the hint I have nothing to say or give to her.
I can’t even count the number of voicemails I’ve deleted without listening to them. The number is that high. It’s probably time to tell Sebastian she’s still calling, but I’m not there yet.
“What are you thinking about?” Mirabelle asks softly, breaking the silence.
“Nothing important.”
“I don’t believe you.” I swear Mirabelle might know me better than I know myself. She lifts her head up to look at me, her face knit with concern. “Is it still everything from earlier? I should have tried harder to get Stacey to back off—”
I smile down at her worried face, shaking my head. “It’s not Stacey, or any of the shit she made me do today.”
“Then what is it?”
I don’t like talking about my mom. I mean, who enjoys admitting their mother willingly left them and only wants something to do with them because it’s convenient for her? I can only assume the divorce was ugly because she’s a taboo topic for my dad too.
“It’s my mom, or I guess I should call her Allison. She hasn’t exactly been much of a mother.”
Mira’s eyes soften, and I take that as my cue to continue.
“She won’t stop calling. I’m afraid one of these days she’s going to show up at my door or at a game, demanding to see me,” I admit. “She wanted nothing to do with me before, but now I’m a professional athlete, I’m suddenly good enough for her?”
“Do you ever answer her calls?” she asks, chewing on her bottom lip. I lift my hand to brush her hair behind her ear.
“I used to, thinking it was a sign she . . .” I trail off, not wanting to admit that despite Penelope having treated me like her own, I still craved the approval of Allison. “I told her to stop calling me six months ago. She said she just wanted to talk. I-I hung up on her and changed my number.”
Her nose scrunches up in confusion. “I thought you changed it because your phone number got leaked.”
“I didn’t want my dad to know she was calling me. It didn’t stop her from finding my new one, though. I accidentally answered a call a few months ago, but I ended it as soon as I realized who it was.”
“I might have accidentally told him and my dad that she was. I’m sorry, Henry,” Mirabelle apologizes. “I didn’t mean to, but I felt awful you were taking all this shit from everyone, and you didn’t deserve it. You carry so much weight on your shoulders, and it wasn’t fair for them to add to it with their accusations. My temper definitely got the better of me when I talked to your dad, and I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Well, I guess that answers my question about why Sebastian suspected we were in contact, but I don’t understand when she would have had this conversation? “When did you talk to my dad?”
“The morning before the season opener. I didn’t go to Uncle Owen’s to talk to your dad, if that makes it any better? JJ and I were staging an intervention with Hunter about Bailey. Your parents were there too, and your dad tried talking me out of being with you. I just got so mad because no one ever listens to me or what I want. It just slipped out, and I didn’t know how to tell you. I’m so sorry, Henry,” Mirabelle rambles as she moves to sit up, attempting to pull away from me. I keep my arms wrapped around her, preventing her from moving.
I smile at her, trying to reassure her I’m not upset. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not mad.” Mirabelle melts into me, exactly where I want her to stay. “How’s Bailey?” I ask, trying to decide whether I should open that can of worms before I can talk to Kaitlyn.
“He’s still ignoring my calls.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“What’s there to talk about? My brother hates me, and I don’t even know what I did. Mom told me he hasn’t said a word to anyone since I told my parents he quit soccer. JJ told me last week Bailey answered a FaceTime call, though. Bailey didn’t say anything, so JJ said he rambled about his classes and teammates, but he still answered, so maybe there’s hope.”
Yeah, Bailey is definitely on my shit list. I hate that he’s making her feel this way.
“I don’t think you did anything, Mira. It’s probably an extreme form of teen angst. He’ll work through it, and things will go back to normal.”
“Do you really believe that?” she asks, and the hope lingering in Mirabelle’s question breaks my heart for her because I don’t believe it. There’s something going on with him, and until he learns to let someone in to help him work through whatever this is, I don’t think things will go back to normal.
But I can’t tell her that.
I crane my neck at an uncomfortable angle to press a short kiss to her forehead. “I do.”
Her smile and the way it reaches her eyes make me feel a little better. Lying doesn’t always have to be a bad thing.
Silence envelopes us as I hold the woman I . . . as I hold Mirabelle.
Everything will work out exactly the way it’s supposed to.