Chapter 22
Trinity
My socked feet slid across the wood planks, my hands tugging against the sweatshirt I tossed on after my shower. It wasn’t cold outside, but the AC was blasting in here and all I wanted to do was crawl under the covers and cry.
My eyes caught on Preston’s profile. He was in my kitchen, in the middle of pouring a pitcher of lemonade into a glass.
I watched from my position at the entry to the living room.
I admired the way his muscles flexed. The way his eyebrows furrowed as he focused on filling the glass to the exact amount he deemed acceptable.
Then he just stared at it, like making me this drink was crossing a very distinct line.
Maybe it was. Maybe me sobbing into his chest was already crossing a line, but now he stood here in my space, and the only thing I could think was, he looked like he belonged there.
Life really does have shit timing.
My foot inched forward just as he glanced up. His expression changed from concentration to concern. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I said, my eyes darting away from his.
This was even more embarrassing than the moment in the field house. “I…” I stammered. “I’m sorry about that.”
“Sit.” The word was firm as he nodded toward my couch.
There was no room for refusal.
He picked up the glass before he headed in my direction. I followed the order, curling up on the end of the couch before he sat down in the middle. Not the opposite end. We didn’t touch, but I was on fire at the proximity.
“You should drink.” He handed me the glass. “I grabbed some of my rehydration powder from the house while you were in the shower and mixed it in. It will help.”
My fingers wrapped around the glass. “Thank you.”
The simple gesture made my stomach flutter. A bad sign.
“You want to talk about it?” he asked, leaning back to relax into the sofa cushions.
I took a drink, letting the cold liquid trickle down my throat. I never really voiced my screwed-up family dynamic to anyone. Didn’t trust anyone enough not to air out all of our dirty laundry. But the way his eyes hadn’t left my face, and the fact he stayed, had me dropping my guard.
“Growing up, we did fine. Me and my mom. I knew my dad paid some form of child support. I mean, he was making millions, and there was no way my mother would let that slide.” I took another drink.
“After I graduated and started college, naturally, the child support ended. I was an adult. He did his due diligence, and my mom made it clear the money train was over and my future was solely my responsibility.”
I tucked my feet up underneath me, the shift causing my knee to press briefly against his thigh.
“I paid for most of my books and as much as I could on the tuition. I didn’t want to start out with a pile of debt, so I worked three jobs.
As a tutor, a waitress, and I also carted beer at the country club on the weekends.
I ended up having to get student loans because a decent education nowadays practically costs you your firstborn. ”
His lips twitched at my attempted joke. “That was a heavy load.”
“Tell me about it.” I rolled my eyes. “I wore out at least one pair of tennis shoes every couple of months.”
“I’m sure you did if you ran nine miles like you did today.” His tone shifted from amused to frustrated. “You can’t do that shit in this heat, Trinity. You could have passed out.”
“I was okay. I mean…yes, I got a little winded.”
“A little?” He growled. “You could barely breathe.”
“Okay.” I held up my hands. “I won’t do it again.”
“Thank you.” He relaxed again, his hand dropping close to my bare leg.
I ignored it. “Anyway, it was hard, but I made it. I was proud, but the way Mom talked, it was like he just left us to waste away. That he wanted nothing to do with me.”
“And that wasn’t true?”
My throat tightened again at the memory, but I swallowed it down and replayed the conversation with my dad, then the conversation with my mom. The longer I spoke, the tighter his fist got. He looked like he was ready to drop the next person who looked at him funny.
“She didn’t even apologize?” He scoffed.
“No.” I closed my eyes. “I just can’t do it anymore. I can’t just keep letting her hurt me over and over.”
“What do you mean over and over?” He sat up straighter, his gaze fixated on mine.
“It’s nothing,” I dismissed the comment.
“Hey.” His voice softened. “If it hurt you, it’s not nothing. Don’t ever think what you feel is irrelevant.”
Who is this man? He’s supposed to be all muscles and cocky smirks. Not gentle and relatable.
I glanced down at the centimeter of space between my leg and his forearm. I wanted the comfort of his skin on mine, but I also knew that wasn’t an option. For either of us.
“She stole one of my credit cards and maxed it out without telling me, then hid the bills,” I admitted.
The anger for me that was displayed on his features made that stupid flutter resurface.
“I’m sorry.” He reached out to squeeze my knee. “It sucks when the people who are supposed to love us hurt us deliberately.”
My breath hitched at the contact of his warm palm, my heart aching at his words. I got the impression he’d been hurt too. Maybe not in the same way that I had.
“I don’t know what I did to make her…”
His head shook, those dark locks ruffling slightly on his head. “You didn’t do anything. Those choices are on her.”
“But she’s my mom, you know? I know she was hurt when he left. It’s why I’ve always backed her. Always took everything she said at face value.” I shrugged. “Because why would she lie?”
The question was obviously rhetorical, but Preston answered anyway.
“Because she was desperate. He didn’t choose her, and she needed you to.”
“Wow. Smart and can cook.” I chuckled to lighten the mood because we were getting deep for a random Thursday night.
“I wouldn’t say smart.” He eyed me, the insinuation clear.
If he were smart, he wouldn’t be this close to me. Which told me that we needed to wrap up this little therapy session. So even though I didn’t want to, I untangled from my position and gave us both the reminder we needed.
“You’re the coach.” My eyes remained on the taupe wall in front of me.
“I know.”
“You said this can’t…” I started, but he spoke again.
“I know.”
We sat in silence. The weight of the circumstances like a dark cloud.
“You should go. We have a long day tomorrow.” I adjusted my sweatshirt, pushing to my feet.
He didn’t budge for a brief moment, but then he stood to his full height.
“You sure you’re all right?” he asked.
“Nothing a good night’s sleep and a little lemonade can’t fix.” I gave a strained smile.
The betrayal hurt. But I’d get over. I always did.
His hand lifted, like he wanted to touch me, but then he remembered he couldn’t.
He lowered it to his side. “I’ll see you at the field house.”
I nodded. “Night.”
I watched him walk to the door, shutting it quietly behind him before I dropped my head in my hands.
Who is Preston Rusk and why can’t I get a freaking grip?