Chapter Twenty-One Archer
Chapter Twenty-One
Archer
We walked to her car in silence, sharing a quick, loaded glance over the roof of her vehicle before she unlocked the doors.
Remi’s car was mostly clean, only some soccer cleats and an extra water bottle on the passenger side, which she tossed onto the floor behind her.
In the back seat was a bag holding reusable grocery totes and a small stack of books that must have tipped over as she was driving.
The console held ChapStick, some spare change, a hair tie, and a bright-pink container of hand sanitizer. A large reusable water bottle covered with colorful stickers sat in one of the two cupholders.
Everything about her life was so heartbreakingly normal to me, in a way that almost hurt, and I fucking loved that she didn’t apologize for having stuff in her car.
“You’re probably gonna want to—”
My helpless grunt as I tried to fit into the passenger seat cut her off, because I was about seven inches too tall to fit. Her voice broke off into choked laughter.
“You’ll want to slide that seat back before you get in,” she finished around a wide smile.
“Thanks for the warning.” I found the lever on the side of the seat and pushed it back as far as it could go. Better. Not perfect, but better.
“Your truck is probably immaculate on the inside, isn’t it?”
“Afraid so. Growing up, I was convinced that if a single piece of garbage touched the interior of my father’s car, the entire thing would self-destruct. Can’t help but be influenced by that.”
I pulled my seat belt over and clicked it into place as she sent her grandfather a text, letting him know what she was doing.
The dirt decorating the side of my truck caught her attention, and she gave me a quick look. “Not the outside, though. Even mine is cleaner than that.”
I grinned. “I live on a dirt road. Just finished building the house a couple months ago, and I haven’t gotten around to getting the drive out to the road done yet. Washing my truck regularly is an exercise in futility. The bonus is that it drives my old man fucking crazy.”
My ribs squeezed tight as she handed me her phone so I could type in my address. What did she expect to find? I hadn’t built my home thinking about anyone else’s approval, but I found myself desperate for hers.
Remi wasn’t thinking about my house. Her mind, apparently, was still on the last thing I’d said.
“Do you hate him?” Her eyes were big in her face when she turned them in my direction briefly. “It sounds like you might.”
I allowed my head to rest and closed my eyes while I thought about how to answer.
“Sometimes.” I turned to watch her, soaking in the details of her profile. “Not often enough.”
Her brows bent in a thoughtful V. “What do you mean?”
“Friends don’t judge each other, right?”
“They don’t.” Remi smiled. God, that smile made me fucking weak. “You should hear some of the things Ness tells me, and you’d know the answer to that.”
It was a lighthearted comment that was meant to make me feel better, but it didn’t. Turmoil over my relationship with my father had festered inside me for so long, it felt like lancing an infected wound to open up about it now.
On another night, I might not have answered.
But after hours of watching her take care of people she loved, watching her smile and laugh and be a horrible cook and not know it, watching her extend herself over and over because her heart was as big as the entire world, I knew that giving her some truth was the only way to navigate what I was feeling.
What I was feeling for her.
If I put on a mask or tried to be perfect, she’d know. She’d see. And it would shatter whatever tentative truce we’d found ourselves in.
Swallowing that instinct to show her my good side, the perfect side, was like shoving the arm of a cactus straight down into my gut, but I did it all the same.
My voice was rough when I answered.
“Even when I do stupid shit, when I make decisions that are blatantly self-destructive, I still find myself wondering if he’s paying attention.
” My hands curled into fists on my lap, and I forced them to relax.
“Knowing I could make him angry, knowing I could disappoint him, felt better than his apathy. Fucked up, right?”
“He fucked you up,” she corrected firmly. “That’s on him, Archer. Not you.”
“I’m closer to thirty than twenty-five, Remi.
At some point, it is on me.” I kept my eyes on her even though she was driving.
“He’s not standing over my shoulder, forcing me to make unhealthy decisions for the wrong fucking reasons.
Like how I treated you. How I spoke to you.
That’s not my father’s fault. I did that. ”
She sighed, her face looking so sad that I wanted to rewind everything that had gotten us to this point, undo every piece of conversation that made her mouth do that slight downturn like it was now.
“And you apologized.” Her eyes cut to mine, a flash of temper there, like she was daring me to argue. “Would he have done the same thing?”
“No. Do you know what the first lesson was that he ever taught me? Evanses never humble themselves. That is what he drilled into me my entire life, and trying to dismantle the hold those words have on me is like tearing down a brick wall with my bare fucking hands.” I laughed, dry and harsh.
“That first week at the shelter? I wanted to keep you pissed off. I loved it. Your anger did something to me, Remi, and I know how fucked up that is. Don’t give me too much credit here. ”
Her chest heaved on a deep breath, and I worried I’d gone too far.
Then she yanked on the wheel and steered the car into an empty parking lot.
The church in front of us was brick walls and white columns, only one car parked close to the covered entrance.
Great, a heavenly witness was just what I needed for this conversation.
Might as well tell whoever was listening to add a couple check marks to my scorecard toward damnation.
With rough movements, she shoved the vehicle into park and turned, folding her leg into her seat so that it was resting on the console.
Too far.
Too much.
That would always be my problem, wouldn’t it?
I could only come so far in trying to repair any of the relationships in my life before one stupid, rash decision knocked my progress off the rails and sent me spiraling in the opposite direction.
“Are you done sitting in the villain seat? You occupy it so easily in your own mind, I can’t help but wonder if you like it.”
“What? That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Yes, it is. And he put you there. Over and over, when you didn’t act the way he wanted and when you didn’t do exactly the thing that made him look best. The only lesson he’s taught you is that acting out gets you attention from the people in your life who you should be learning from.
He’s just a really shitty teacher.” She leaned in, her eyes blazing.
“But guess what? It’s still working, because he is not the only person giving you the attention you need. You respect your coach?”
“Yes.”
“Have you learned anything from him? Has he been checking in on you more lately?”
“Yes,” I said, more roughly than before.
“Your teammates. What about them?”
I couldn’t speak now, so I nodded.
Her eyes. God, I could hardly meet her eyes because of how they burned. Ripped straight through all the pretense and all the bullshit and all the things I didn’t want her to see.
Little by little, they softened. Her mouth did, too, shifting from a firm line into something else entirely. Remi Sinclair had the most kissable mouth I’d ever seen. The fact that I’d never kissed it was an absolute fucking tragedy.
“What about me?” she whispered.
My eyes snapped to hers. “You?”
“What about me? You wanted my attention and you got it, didn’t you?”
The seat belt around my chest was strangling me, making it hard to breathe, so I tore at the latch, turning slightly to face her. “Did I?”
“Don’t play dumb, Archer, it doesn’t suit you.” Her gaze was unrelenting. “You know you have it.”
The moment got away from me, far too big to be contained in this small, unassuming car. But instead of running from it, I let the unknown settle in my chest and just tried to breathe.
In and out. Each breath was filled with Remi—clean and sweet and mouthwatering.
Before I’d even realized it, she was everywhere. Everything. And I had a desperate, clawing urge to rebuild my life with her at the center. Exactly the kind of grandiose statement that would send her screaming in the other direction.
“What do you want from me?” she asked, emotion making her voice shake.
She was asking me to hand over my heart on a platter, something I’d never done. Not for anyone.
Even if it was stupid and I’d torture myself over it later, I reached out and slid my hands under hers, dragging the tips of my fingers underneath Remi’s until they curled up, a helpless response to the featherlight touch that I couldn’t resist. She stared down at our hands as our fingers twined together, her chest rising and falling when I didn’t pull away.
I held my answer until she finally raised her head and met my gaze.
“Would you believe me if I told you?”
At the gruffly stated question, torn straight from my chest, she sucked in a sharp breath, her exhale coming out in an equally harsh punch.
“I don’t know.” Carefully, she removed her hands from mine, covering her mouth with visibly trembling fingers. “I don’t know.”
It was so easy to think about what I wanted from Remi.
I wanted to take her out on a date.
I wanted to make her smile.
I wanted to kiss her in the morning when her hair was crazy and she hadn’t had coffee yet.
I wanted to take her to bed and figure out all the things that made her moan.
I wanted to fuck her.
I wanted to make love to her.
I wanted to see her in the stands, wearing my jersey, and know she was mine.
I wanted to be someone her son could look up to.