Chapter 23 Tanner
TANNER
Now it was the twenty-eighth, and we were finally heading to the real celebration.
Seth squeezed my thigh. "You're gonna vibrate out of the truck."
"I'm not—" I looked down. My leg was bouncing. I stilled it. "Okay, maybe a little."
"We can turn around. Say we got food poisoning."
"Both of us? Same food poisoning?"
"We shared a shrimp."
I snorted. "A shrimp."
"A bad shrimp." He glanced at me, mouth twitching. "Very suspicious shrimp."
I turned to look at him. He was wearing the soft gray Henley I’d bought him for his birthday, the one that made his shoulders look impossibly broad and his eyes warmer than usual. The bruising from the hit had faded completely now, his face back to the face I’d fallen asleep looking at for months.
“I’m thinking about how weird this is,” I said.
“Weird how?”
“A year ago, I was dreading Christmas. Counting down the days until I could get it over with, pretend everything was fine, and go back to school where I could fall apart in private.” I traced the back of his hand where it rested on my leg.
“Now I’m driving toward a house full of people, and I actually want to be there. ”
Seth’s thumb stilled. “That’s not weird. That’s good.”
“It feels weird.”
“Growth usually does.”
I huffed out a laugh. “You’re annoyingly good at that.”
“At what?”
“Saying the exact right thing.” I shook my head. “It’s unsettling. When did you get so good at it?”
“Around the time I fell for a guy who makes me want to be better.” He glanced at me, his expression soft. “You make me want to earn it, Tanner. The way you look at me? I want to deserve that.”
My chest ached in the way it always did when he said things like that—raw and tender and so full of feeling I didn’t know where to put it. I lifted his hand to my mouth and pressed a kiss to his knuckles.
“You do,” I said.
We drove for another hour before my phone buzzed with a message from Hunter.
ETA? Nixon’s making his famous crab dip and he keeps threatening to start without you.
Two hours. Tell him to show some restraint.
I’m telling him nothing. He’s terrifying when he’s cooking.
I snorted and showed Seth the exchange. He laughed, the sound bright in the enclosed space of the truck.
"Hunter's been warming up to the idea of us," Seth said. "Only threatened me twice last time we talked."
"He's protective."
"He should be." Seth's hand found mine on his thigh, fingers lacing together. "You deserve friends who want to make sure no one hurts you."
“You planning on hurting me?”
Seth’s jaw tightened, and for a second, I saw the shadow of everything we’d been through—the hit, the hospital, the ten days of careful silence and careful touch. “Never on purpose,” he said quietly. “And never again if I can help it.”
I didn’t say anything. Just leaned across the console and pressed my lips to his shoulder, breathing in the clean cotton smell of his shirt and the warmth underneath.
“You made it!” Hunter had the door open before we’d finished climbing the stairs, pulling me into a hug so tight my feet left the ground. “Merry Christmas, asshole.”
“Put me down.”
“No. I haven’t seen you since October. I’m hugging you as long as I want.”
John appeared behind him, grinning. “Let the man breathe, babe. Hey, Tanner. Seth.”
Seth shook John’s hand while Hunter finally released me. The apartment smelled like cinnamon and something savory, and through the open-plan living space I could see Nixon at the stove, apron-clad, wielding a wooden spoon like a weapon.
“Finally!” Nixon called out from the kitchen. “Get in here and taste this. I need an unbiased opinion, and these two have no palates.”
“I have an excellent palate,” Hunter protested.
“You think Taco Bell is gourmet.”
“It is if you order right.”
I crossed to the kitchen island while Seth hung back with Hunter and John, the three of them falling into easy conversation. Nixon thrust a spoon toward my face.
“Taste. Is it too much Old Bay?”
I tasted. The dip was rich and briny, perfectly balanced. “It’s perfect.”
“You’re just saying that because you’re polite.”
“I’m saying it because it’s true.”
Nixon studied me for a long moment, his dark eyes cataloging the changes since he’d last seen me—the weight I’d put back on, the way I stood a little straighter. Then he set down his spoon and came around the island, pulling me into a hug that was gentler than Hunter’s but no less fierce.
“It’s good to see you,” he said quietly. “Lincoln’s been talking about nothing else for weeks.”
“Where is he?”
“Picking up Angie and Frank from the airport. They should be here in about an hour.”
The mention of my mother made my chest tighten with anticipation. She'd been supportive when I told her about Seth at Thanksgiving—more than supportive, actually—but this was different. This was her meeting him, seeing us together, making it real in a way that phone calls couldn't.
"You okay?" Nixon asked.
"Yeah." I stepped back, rubbing the back of my neck. "It's just a lot. Everyone in one place."
“That’s the point.” He squeezed my shoulder before returning to his cooking. “Family means showing up. Even when it’s overwhelming.”
Lincoln arrived with Mom and Frank about an hour later. I heard them in the hallway—Lincoln’s deep voice, Mom’s lighter one, Frank’s quiet murmur underneath—and my body went taut with anticipation. Seth must have noticed because he slipped his hand into mine and squeezed.
The door opened. Mom stepped through first, her hair shorter than the last time I’d seen her, her face fuller and brighter. She looked healthy. She looked happy.
“Tanner.” She crossed to me in three quick strides and pulled me into her arms, holding tight, and for a moment I was five years old again—safe in the one place that had always meant home.
“Hi, Mom.”
“I missed you.” Her voice was thick. “I missed you so much, baby.”
“I missed you too.”
She pulled back, cupping my face in her hands, her eyes searching mine. Whatever she found must have satisfied her because she smiled—that real smile, the one I hadn’t seen enough of in years—and kissed my forehead.
“You look good,” she said. “You look…”
She trailed off, seeming to search for the right word.
“Happy,” Frank offered, stepping forward from where he’d been hanging back near the door. He extended his hand with a polite nod. “It’s nice to see you again, Tanner.”
“You too.” And it was. He fit here, in this room full of people I loved.
Lincoln was next, his hug solid and grounding. “Hell of a year,” he said, low enough that only I could hear. “You made it through.”
“Not done yet.”
“No. But you’re standing. That counts.”
Then he turned to Seth, and I watched them measure each other—Lincoln with the steady assessment of a man who’d spent decades reading players, Seth with the quiet stillness he always got when he wanted to make a good impression. Lincoln extended his hand.
“Landry. I heard about the bowl game. Standing on that sideline while your team played without you—that took guts.”
Seth’s hand tightened on mine. “It was the right call.”
“It was. Doesn’t make it easier.” Lincoln’s expression softened. “You’ve got good people in your corner, Landry. That matters more than most guys realize until it’s too late.”
Seth’s throat worked. “Thank you, sir.”
After dinner, while everyone scattered to help with dishes or collapse on the couch, Lincoln caught my eye and tilted his head toward the back porch. I followed him out.
The night air was cold but not bitter. Lincoln leaned against the railing, looking out at the water.
“I talked to David Holloway last week,” he said. “He’s excited about your work.”
“The consulting position?”
“More than that. He mentioned bringing you on full-time once you finish your master’s. They want to build a research division focused on impact reduction, and they want you to lead it.”
The words didn’t quite land. They hovered somewhere above me, too big to absorb.
“That’s—” I had to stop. Start again. “That’s years away. I haven’t even started grad school.”
“He’s thinking long-term. So am I.” Lincoln turned to face me.”Your father would have been so proud, Tanner. Everything he wanted for you—the work, the recognition, the chance to actually change things—it’s happening. You’re making it happen.”
I looked out at the water, trying to breathe past the pressure in my chest. “Sometimes I forget he’s not going to see any of it. And then I remember, and it’s like…”
“Losing him again.”
“Yeah.”
Lincoln was quiet for a moment. “When Patrick and I played together, we used to talk about what came after. The things we’d do when our bodies gave out and the game moved on without us.
He always said he wanted to make sure it was worth it.
That all the damage—” His voice caught. “That all the damage led to something.”
“It didn’t though. He didn’t get to see it lead anywhere.”
“No. But you did.” Lincoln put a hand on my shoulder, the weight of it grounding. “You’re his legacy, Tanner. Not the way he fell apart at the end. The way you’re putting things back together now. That’s what matters. That’s what lasts.”
I nodded, not trusting my voice. Lincoln squeezed my shoulder once and left me alone with the stars and the water and the impossible weight of loving someone who was gone.
The door opened again a few minutes later. I knew without looking that it was Seth.
“Hey,” he said, coming to stand beside me. “You okay?”
“Getting there.”
He wrapped an arm around me, and I leaned into his warmth, letting myself be held.
“Lincoln talked to me inside,” Seth said. “About transitions. About knowing when to walk away from things.”
“What did he say?”