Chapter 33 Justin
Justin
This is a bullshit call, and everyone knows it.
The Bears are losing by a landslide. Half the people in my living room aren’t even paying attention to the game anymore, but me and a buddy saw the play and there’s no fucking way it was targeting.
We’re screaming at the TV like we can single-handedly change the call, when Doc rushes between me and my friend.
‘Are you okay?’ she asks, her gaze trailing me, then pins a hard glare at my friend. He steps back a few feet and raises his hands.
Jesus Christ, she’s sexy when she’s intense. She’s sexy when she’s walking, talking, fucking breathing. Everything she does gets me right here.
And I can’t do a single thing about it.
‘Oh shit, sorry, Doc, I’m good, I’m good,’ I say, touching her arm. ‘Officials made a terrible call.’
I leave my hand on her arm too long. I shouldn’t, but I do. I know it’s stupid. But I’m almost five lagers deep, my defenses are hazy and I’m tired of holding back my feelings. So, a hand on her arm it is.
Her chest softens. ‘Football sucks,’ she says with a grin, then tugs me to the side. ‘Sorry to break up your fun, but can you take a quick peek at this photo and tell me if you recognize this guy?’
I glance at the picture on her phone and use the excuse to lean in closer. Her shoulder brushes mine, her hips press into my hip, and even though I don’t recognize the guy in the picture, I study it for way longer than necessary just to feel her next to me.
Not until the game ends, and the final guest leaves, does the sensation of Doc’s body pressing into mine finally fade. And now, I want more. I probably shouldn’t grab another beer, but I do. It’s been a long time since I let loose like this, and my brain needs to stop spinning.
I crack open the bottle and tip it back, the suds passing over my muted tastebuds.
Tonight was fun, hanging out with my old teammates and a few friends.
Everyone must’ve heard about Conner, because not a single person brought him up, even though this is the first football party I’ve thrown where he hasn’t attended.
‘Hey you,’ Doc says, holding a small plate of food, and sinking into her spot on the couch.
Her spot. On the couch. I love that she’s so comfortable here, that it seems so natural.
Like we’ve both worked all day, and now it’s the end of the day where we talk about what happened.
Like a couple. I know we’re not a couple.
I’m not an idiot. It’s just reminiscent of what a couple would be like.
But she told me, loud and clear, when she came back, that the condition of this is no more blurred lines. So, for now, I’m sucking it in.
‘You look like you have the weight of the world on your mind. You good?’ She grabs a water for herself from the ice bucket on the table, then sets one in front of me. I should probably drink it, but right now, it feels good to not feel everything.
‘Yeah, I’m good.’ I pull a long sip of lager then scrape my thumb across the label. ‘Honestly, it felt a little weird to not have Conner here.’
A heavy breath leaves her. ‘I’m sorry with all the shit that happened you lost a friend,’ she says, and pats the top of my hand. She leaves it there for only a moment before she removes it.
I want it back.
I haven’t taken time to process the end of me and Conner’s friendship.
It’s not the first scuffle we’ve ever been in, but we both know it’s the last. ‘It’s been a lot of years coming.
’ I finish the rest of the beer and grab another.
‘You ever have someone in your life because of legacy? Conner’s an asshole.
But we were teammates, you know? I let so much shit slide because of history … and it affected you.’
I can’t get the image out of my head of what he must have done to her to have him on his knees. Doc’s not an attacker. She’s a defender. My stomach knots and I take another heavy sip.
‘You can’t blame yourself for what he did, okay?’ She dips a celery into dressing and takes a bite. ‘I understand that sense of loyalty. I really do. I also understand ignoring red flags. Sometimes it’s easier to do that than to face what’s right in front of us.’
‘I’m not gonna … let him talk about you like that.’ My words turn thick and choppy, like a weight’s attached to my tongue.
Doc sighs. ‘It wasn’t okay what you did, Justin. You know that, right? Conner was detained. Is he a prick? Sure. Did he do something really fucking bad and stupid? Yes. But what you did wasn’t cool.’
But he had it coming. ‘What Conner did, though, was wrong. I couldn’t let him get away with it.’
‘It was wrong. But that wasn’t your place to defend me.’ She sets her veggie on the plate and shifts her gaze directly to mine. ‘You have to believe I’ve got it under control. I’m paid to have it under control. To protect you. Not the other way around.’
‘Well … I do have a good teacher,’ I say, trying to deflect the tension. ‘Tell me you noticed the move I pulled on him.’
She lifts a brow, shakes her head, then resumes eating.
Sure, I’m officially past buzzed, but I do hear her.
But just because I hear her doesn’t mean I’d do anything different.
She can probably kill an army of men with her bare hands, but it doesn’t matter.
My urge to wrap her in my arms, to keep away anything that will hurt her, to defend her, is etched into my soul.
This isn’t about not respecting her. This is so much more.
She wipes her hands, props her elbow against the armrest and rests her head in her palm. I love it when she’s like this. Calm, unguarded. Her powdery skin almost glows, the soul-drenched dark eyes suck me in, her mouth …
God, her fucking mouth. Just once I want to taste those lips.
They’re so plush, so full, a deep rose color that makes me hungry.
I know I shouldn’t look at her like this.
It’s not right. And it’s not the alcohol talking …
Doc’s what’s missing in my life. When she was gone for a week, a void rippled through me.
I felt empty. With her here, I feel whole.
Shit. I’m probably staring at her and any moment she’s going to read my thoughts and get super pissed and then I’ll have ruined the moment.
I lift myself from the couch to grab a plate of food.
My feet are heavy against the floor. God, I haven’t been drunk in so long, and the three drinks I had the night of the club doesn’t count.
Not that this is drunk, drunk, but once I settle back into the couch, I’m feeling way more emotional and chattier than my typical self.
‘You know why I kept hanging out with Conner all these years?’
‘You said legacy,’ she says. ‘There must be comfort in that.’
I lean my neck against the back of the couch. ‘Yeah. But also, it’s just … it’s hard for me to trust people, you know? And in this business, it’s even harder. Conner’s done some shitty things, but it’s not like he ever sold a story to the tabloids or took pictures of me.’
‘That’s why you stayed friends with him? Because he met the bare minimum requirement of not selling a story?’ She hesitates. ‘I’m sorry things went down the way they did. But you have a lot of friends. People who care about you. You’ve got family—’
‘I don’t have family. I’ve got my sister. That’s it.’ My mother doesn’t count. Family doesn’t threaten and emotionally manipulate. ‘Not sure if my parents would be proud or disappointed to see me drink. They’ve never seen me with alcohol before.’
She shifts in her seat. ‘Really? Never?’
‘Nah. My dad was an alcoholic. I thought by taking this stand that I rarely drink or having a dry household would somehow prove I was stronger. But according to my dad, no drinking means I’m a pussy and can’t handle my liquor.
Drinking means I’m an embarrassment and failure to my mother.
’ I polish off the rest of the bottle. ‘Jesus, Doc. I’m thirty-two years old, and I’m still affected by my parents. ’
‘That’s totally normal,’ she says. ‘Haven’t you ever heard that everyone spends their lives trying to undo what their childhood did to them?’
I glance up at her. ‘Did you have to process everything about being adopted? Did you … undo whatever that might have done to you?’
She shifts in her seat and gives me a soft smile.
‘Parts of it sure. When I was younger, I wanted to know what my birth parents looked like, who they were, if they could sing, or draw, or what they did for a living. And when I was an angsty teenager and me and my mom got into some arguments, I’d briefly wonder what it would be like to be with my birth parents,’ she says.
‘But those moments were rare. Besides the finances, I’m pretty damn lucky in the parent department. ’
I crack open another beer, snap the bottle cap and watch it spin on the table.
‘I never worried about food or bills like you did.’ Visions of tiptoeing around our house, holding my breath when my parents came home late and sneaking out of my room to listen to screaming voices fills my brain.
‘My family was built upon the … philosophy … that the more shame you place upon your kids, the more you can control them.’
The room fuzzes in and out of focus. My mouth is parched. The bitterness of the beer faded hours ago, but with every sip I grow thirstier.
Her beautiful, beautiful chocolate-brown eyes fill with concern. Does she know how pretty her eyes are? Does she know if she looks hard enough, she can read my entire soul?
‘I can’t even imagine what that’d be like for a child,’ she says. ‘I’m so sorry.’
I pick at the bottle label. ‘But my sister was so sensitive. And I couldn’t stop it, you know?
And I left her. Can you believe that, Doc?
I just left her to them.’ My voice cracks and I clear my throat.
‘She couldn’t handle it. I think my parents were totally fine with Mia cutting them off, because they considered her a failure.
They never once thought about their behavior and what they did to send her into addiction. ’