Chapter 24
THEY’RE OURS
The little coward called in sick. Or should I say texted in sick.
I smirk down at my phone where her text is illuminated and sit back in my chair. Steepling my fingers, I touch my lips and consider my next move.
I hadn’t been planning on coming onto her like that. I’ve been taking it slow with her since Dad’s visit the night she was sick. I’ve been testing the waters, getting to know her again. I’ve been moving slowly, because I know she needs time.
If I’m being honest, so did I.
But then I read Tate’s letter.
And then that fire flashed in her eyes when I teased her. She turned to flee me, and something kicked into gear inside me. I didn’t think. I chased.
I hunted.
I caught.
Then I just couldn’t let her go. The feel of her body, so small and soft against mine. My hand in her shirt—the sweet heat that radiated from her skin under the thin fabric. It was all too much.
I dipped my head and the scent of her—I couldn’t think. I needed to taste. Just once.
If the bells hadn’t rang, I think I might have spun her around, shoved her up against the wall and plundered her mouth.
I’d wanted to tear her clothing off and fuck nearly fourteen years of pain, anger, and heartache into her. I wanted to make her cry and moan and unravel.
I still do.
I glance at my phone again and curse. Then I grin.
Because the woman doesn’t get to run from me now. She ran from me over a decade ago and I don’t even know why. Not really.
I just know I’m not about to let her run now, or ever again. Not if I have anything to do about it.
I log into the company email and see that she’s already opened and replied to a few. She’s not sick. She’s just scared.
I decide to give her today. Tomorrow, though, it’s game on.
The field is packed with wagons and lawn chairs.
There’s a few blankets spread out on the grass, and I smile as I pass a young girl who can’t be older than ten as she scoops up her baby brother.
The poor kid had been attempting to escape to the grass on hands and knees already stained green by prior, near successful, escape attempts.
He wails. She shushes him as she shoots me an awkward smile in return.
I carry on down the path of lawn chairs and wagons, screaming toddlers forced to be where they don’t want to be, and older siblings racing for the playground in the opposite direction. I spot Faye quickly. She’s standing with Candace, staring out at the field.
She bounces into a jump as her arms fly into the air and she cheers. She’s in tight jeans that are frayed at the hem and short enough to show off slender ankles. A flash of gold around one catches my eye, but I think nothing of it. Faye has always liked her anklets.
My eyes trail up over the length of her body, and my own heats. It has nothing to do with the sun that bakes down on the field and everything to do with the woman who has always and forever owned every nook and crevice of my heart and soul.
She’s beautiful. Just as captivating in jeans and a t-shirt as she is in sky-high heels, tight skirts and blouses a man can’t help but imagine unbuttoning.
Candace tips her head to say something to Faye and catches sight of me. She jolts and elbows Faye. I bite my grin into submission as her head whips to me and her mouth drops open.
My already heated blood boils. Yeah, she’s beautiful.
“Wh—what are you doing here?”
“Came to watch Owen play.” I bend to catch the rocket that is Mabel into my arms. “Hey, little princess, how’s it going?”
Dramatic, as I’m coming to learn is her way, Mabel drops her head back on a loud and tormented groan. “I’m boooooored!”
I chuckle. “Is that so?”
She nods. “Mommy won’t let me go to the park by myself.”
“No?”
“Absolutely not.” Faye folds her arms over her chest as though she’s preparing for battle. “That’s what happens when you don’t stay at the park. You lose your privileges.”
“I was looking for pebbles!” If Mabel wasn’t in my arms, I’m confident she’d have stomped her foot.
“In the parking lot, Mabel Grace Wilder! I found you in the parking lot!” Faye does stomp her foot.
I see where Mabel gets her dramatics.
I don’t realize I’m grinning until Faye pins me with her ire and, hands on hips, demands, “Why are you grinning like that, Holt?”
“Someone’s hot and spicy this morning,” I mutter to Mabel, who agrees wholeheartedly. Candace laughs, but bites down on it fast. Faye makes a noise I think I’d like to make her make in private.
“Holt!”
I tug my shades down to peer into Mabel’s eyes.
“How about I take you to the park for the first half of the game. Then for the second half, we come back here and watch Owen kick ass.” I hear Faye mutter something about my language, but lift a finger when Mabel opens her mouth to negotiate.
I just know she’s going to try to negotiate, so I shut it down with an added, “We won’t moan and groan about watching Owen kick ass, either. ”
Faye groans to the sky about men.
I had to add that last ‘ass’ in there. I just couldn’t help myself.
Mabel snaps her mouth shut and considers. Her eyes turn longing as she gazes at the park over my shoulder.
I know I’ve got her, but I give her a beat before asking, “Do we have a deal?”
Her green eyes kickstart my heart when they drift away from the park to slam into mine. There’s a touch of discomfort in the thundering of my pulse, because Tate should be here negotiating with her. Not me.
Still, that discomfort eases when she gifts me a blinding smile full of little girl spunk. “Deal!”
“Pleasure doing business with you.” I release her to the wild of the grass, and she sets off full tilt toward the park.
Because I can’t help myself again, I give Faye a two-finger salute.
She narrows her eyes at me.
I turn and follow my niece to the park.
She’s already made herself a friend by the time I arrive, and both girls shriek on the highest peak of the playground as they imagine a dragon far below. The imagination of kids is great.
“Candace has got a hell of a hairy eyeball,” Doug says by way of hello.
I dip my chin. “That so?”
“Mmmhmm.” Doug bobs his head as he rocks on his heels, fingertips dipped into the pockets of his cargo pants. “I tell you this because the hairy eyeball is inherited, you see.”
I chuckle. “You mean to tell me Faye’s giving it to me now, don’t you?”
His chest puffs on a breath. “Smart man.”
My chuckle turns into a laugh. “Well, what I don’t see can’t hurt me.”
“Words to live by,” Doug agrees. Then he tells me, “Mabel’s got the same eye. Just wait until she’s sitting in the back seat, and you tell her you’re not stopping for ice cream.” Doug whistles. “Little girl can damn near light a man on fire just by glaring at him through the rearview mirror.”
“She’s a girl who knows what she wants.”
“That she is. So?” Doug looks out over the playground where Mabel escapes the claws of an imaginary dragon by way of the twisty tube slide in the nick of time. “Think you’ll get the chance to have Mabel glaring at you in your rearview mirror, Holt?”
I take a beat. I’m pretty sure he’s asking me more than I think he’s asking me. “I figure I will.”
Doug side-eyes me. “That mean you’re hanging around long-term?”
It’s my turn to pull in breath. “I expect to play for another four years. But I’ll be here every summer and every chance I get off the ice.”
Doug sniffs. His lips thin. “She doesn’t look it, but she’s fragile.”
She’s strong. The strongest woman I know. “I disagree. I don’t know a stronger woman.”
“I suppose there’s truth to that, considering all the pain she’s survived.” He winces as any father would when discussing the pain his daughter has suffered. His proud shoulders curve in just a little. “Does she know you intend to keep coming back here?”
“She’ll figure it out.”
I can feel his eyes on me again, so I give him mine. “It won’t be easy, you know?”
“What?”
“Convincing Faye that loving you is okay after Tate.” He straightens his shoulders, his jaw clenching hard. “It’ll eat at her, the worry she’s doing something wrong by loving you, then Tate, and you again.”
“We can’t change the past.”
He frowns at me. “But have you forgiven her? Can you love her without holding him over her?”
“When I first came back, I was angry,” I admit.
“I’ve since learned some things, and now…
” I watch Mabel flee in her neon pink leggings and the bright blue tutu that bounces with every step.
Her t-shirt is butter yellow and her golden-brown waves are pulled up into a high ponytail reminiscent of the eighties by a scrunchie printed with some kind of flower.
The girls’ outfits should be illegal. I love them.
All the colors of the rainbow.
I can’t breathe for a solid five seconds in the aftershocks of Tate’s voice in my mind.
“And now?” Doug presses. I think he’s holding his breath.
“Now, I’ve forgiven them both, Doug.” It’s the truth. I have.
It doesn’t mean I’m not still hurt. That I won’t still feel anger sometimes. But I don’t blame him for loving her. And I can’t blame her for falling for him. Not when he was where I wasn’t, doing what I couldn’t. Being everything I hadn’t been.
“Don’t hurt my girl, Holt,” Doug pleads softly, watching Mabel. “Don’t hurt any of them.”
“I won’t,” I vow. I mean it to the innermost marrow in my bones.
Tipping my head back to the clear blue of a cloudless sky, I feel a warmth I know in my heart of hearts is my big brother.
I vow again, silently this time. I’ll love them all like you loved them, brother. I’ll take care of them like you took care of them. Because you’re right, Tate. They’re ours.