Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
IVY
Ican’t sleep.
And it has nothing at all to do with this amazing bedroom and the softest, most cozy bed I’ve ever laid in. Because how could anyone not sleep like a baby angel on a cloud in this room? It’s so pretty and warm and inviting. Ava did a great job decorating this house.
No, there’s nothing here not to like. It’s crazy amazing, and he might have to formally evict me to get me to leave.
Oh God.
I hope I don’t have to formally evict Brenda. I’m not going to think of her as Mom anymore because fuck that. She doesn’t love me. She hasn’t shown me any kind of affection in a really, really long time.
Chris was the one who pretty much raised me when I was a teenager and helped me get through school. Hell, he paid for half of it, and I worked my ass off for scholarships for the other half. He’s a good man, and I don’t blame him for not wanting to be married to Brenda anymore.
Jesus, no one should have to live with her, and the more she becomes dependent on the alcohol, and who knows what else she’s dabbling in, the worse she gets. She’s abusive, full stop, to everyone around her.
Chris sat me down before he filed the divorce papers. Even though I’m an adult, and he’s not responsible for me, he still had a talk with me about leaving, how he just couldn’t handle her anymore, but I could see the guilt in his face.
He’s my dad in every way that matters.
But I told him I understood because I do. It doesn’t mean I don’t resent him a little, for leaving me to be the one who has to take care of her. And the bar. I never had an issue with filling in here and there, but since Chris left, it’s been another full-time job.
“Not anymore,” I whisper as I stare at the ceiling and the shadows cast there by the moon.
The bar is out of the picture for now. But Brenda? God, am I going to have to do this for the rest of my goddamn life? Because I don’t think I can. It’s too much.
Unable to lie here and stare at the ceiling anymore, I climb out of bed and decide to go downstairs to get some water.
The house is dark and quiet, but Xander left a light on over the sink.
It sits in front of a huge window that looks out back, but it’s so dark outside that I just see my reflection as I fill a glass from the tap.
“I don’t want to startle you.”
I jump a little but manage to keep all the water in the glass and then turn around to find Xander sitting at the island.
“Did I just walk right past you?”
“No. I was in the living room and saw you walk by. You okay?”
I shrug and lean my hips back against the counter, then take a sip of the cool water and watch him. He’s shirtless, and he’s resting his elbows on the island.
Xander has tattoos on his upper right shoulder and biceps. And I swallow hard because he’s sculpted so beautifully, it’s enough to make me sweat.
“That’s not an answer,” he says with a low voice.
“I just couldn’t sleep. My mind doesn’t want to shut up.”
“What are you thinking about?” He drags his thumb over his lower lip, and my thighs clench. If I’d known he was down here, I would have thrown on his hoodie because right now, I’m just in a tank top and sleep shorts, and that doesn’t feel like enough.
Not that he hasn’t seen everything the universe gave me anyway.
I push that thought out of my head and nibble my lip.
“I don’t think my mom is going to leave peacefully in three days,” I finally admit. “Or at all, let alone nicely. I shudder to think what she’s doing to my house right now.”
“Do you honestly think that she’ll damage your things?”
I take another sip and sigh. “I don’t want to think that, but she’s so vindictive. Jealous, I guess. Not that I have everything in the world, but I do have nice things because I’ve worked my ass off for them.”
“Most parents would want their kids to do better than them.”
I nod slowly. “Except for our moms,” I remind him. “And that really pisses me off for us, Xander.”
“Yeah, we didn’t win any prizes in the mom department, that’s for sure.” He pushes his hand through his hair.
“Why aren’t you asleep?” I ask him.
“I don’t sleep well,” he admits. “And I like the dark.”
“Okay, vampire.”
He smirks, but then some pieces start to shift and move together.
His memory is bad.
Sometimes he can’t find the word he wants.
Doesn’t sleep well.
He didn’t forget about me because he didn’t care or because he’s a jerk. And he didn’t forget about that one night a couple of years ago on purpose.
For a millisecond, I’m relieved. And then that shifts to worry.
“So, I have a question,” I say.
“I’m an open book, Red.”
I move to the island, just across from him, and lean on the counter. His gaze dips to my cleavage for a heartbeat but then comes back up to my eyes.
“Why isn’t the concussion in your medical records?”
His face doesn’t change at all. There’s no reaction.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I take a breath and let it out slowly.
“So now we’re lying to each other, X? Okay. Good to know.” I’m not angry, I’m hurt. And I can’t stand here and have this intimate conversation with him in the dark if he’s going to lie through his perfect teeth.
I wonder how many of those perfect teeth are fake?
So, I turn to leave the kitchen and walk up to my room because I can’t sit here and listen to lies.
But before I get to the stairs, a strong arm wraps around my waist and picks me right up off my feet.
“Don’t go.”
“I’m not interested in having a conversation filled with half truths. I’d rather go overthink in bed by myself.”
He sighs and turns me to pin me against the wall, his arm resting above my head, and frowns down at me.
“No one knows about the concussions.”
“Plural?”
“Three,” he says, and then swallows hard. “My family doesn’t know, most of the team doesn’t know. Only the surgeon and the head coach. How the fuck did you figure it out?”
“I’m a professional, trained to work with athletes. Memory issues, can’t sleep. Do you have headaches?”
He looks like he doesn’t want to answer, but finally he nods curtly.
“Not often anymore, but sometimes.”
“Are you more irritable than usual?”
“In the beginning, but not now. It’s mostly the memory and sleep. Sometimes bright light still bothers me.”
“When was the last one?”
“When I tore the knee.”
I don’t like that. It’s been more than three months, and he’s still having sleep issues. He might always have the memory problems.
And I hate that I’m the thing he can’t remember. I hate it so much.
“I wish I’d known,” I tell him, resolved not to let my lower lip tremble or shed any tears.
It’s not his fault that he forgot about me.
About defending me in high school. Or being the one nice person besides Chris in my teenage years.
Or kissing the fuck out of me on New Year’s Eve three years ago in Denver.
It’s not his fault.
A shiver rolls through me, and whether it’s from being chilled or having this man stand so close to me, I’m not sure.
Probably both.
“Come on, you’re cold.”
He takes my hand and leads me over to the couch, where I sit in the corner, and he covers me up with a fluffy blanket.
“Oh, this is nice. I didn’t see this here earlier.”
“I pulled it out of the closet. I can buy more so you have plenty to choose from.”
I smile at him as he sits next to me and pulls my feet up into his lap.
“Jesus, your feet are freezing.”
I chuckle and then let out a little moan when he digs his thumb into the arch of my foot.
“Oh God, that feels good.”
He’s gone still and quiet, and when I open my eyes he’s frowning at me.
“What?”
“Are you doing all of this on purpose?”
“All of what?”
He continues rubbing my foot, and I whimper, and he points at me.
“That. Right there. The sexy little noises and walking around with hardly anything on. Being naked when I came to your door.”
“First of all, I’m not psychic, so I didn’t know you were on the other side of that door. Second, I’m fully clothed.”
His eyes narrow.
“And third, you’re doing amazing things to my foot. How am I supposed to not make any noise? That’s like asking me not to breathe.”
“So you’re noisy. That’s what you’re saying.”
I smirk and lean back, enjoying how damn good it feels to be all snuggled up in this blanket with Xander rubbing my foot, and allow myself to feel a little smug.
“Tell me about high school,” he says softly. “Because it’s killing me that I don’t remember.”
I swallow hard, all the smugness gone. “It kills me, too, honestly.”
“I’m sorry.”
I open one eye and see him frowning down at my foot.
“It’s okay.”
He turns his gaze to me. “Tell me.”
“Well, it was kind of humiliating to live it the first time, and now you want me to relive it all over again?”
“Yes.”
I bark out a laugh, and he smiles at me.
“Fine. But only if you keep rubbing my feet.”
He pushes his fingers up around my heel and into my calf muscles, and I swear to God, this might be better than sex.
“Jesus Christ, Xander.”
“You can’t make those noises and expect me to let you stay clothed, Red. Tell me about high school.”
I lick my lips.
“It sucked. For me, not for you. You were the jock and you’re funny, and all of the girls adored you. The boys wanted to be you. It was almost annoying, except you’re so nice.”
He laughs at that and keeps rubbing my calf.
“I was the opposite. Nerdy, quiet. I kept to myself and was kind of a wallflower. And I didn’t mind. I’ve never really liked to be the center of attention. But I think that bullies like to hunt for the quiet kids and then humiliate them.”
He stops rubbing and scowls at me. “What the fuck?”
“I told you, this isn’t a great story for me. But you were always nice to me. You saved me from bullies more times than I can count. Thanks to you, I was only shoved in a locker once, when you weren’t around to save me.”
He doesn’t crack a smile at my joke.
“You would tell the assholes to leave me alone. That’s all.
” Except, that meant everything to me. “It’s not like you flirted with me or anything like that.
And you definitely wouldn’t have because, like I said, we were so vastly different.
But it was nice to have just one person treat me like a human being, you know? ”
He moves to the other foot and gives it the same attention.
“I want to remember it,” he admits. “I’d love to remember what you were like as a teenager.”
“No, you don’t. I was awkward, with thick glasses and braces and curves in all the wrong places thanks to a really horrible transition through puberty.”
“That’s not who you are at all now,” he says.
“Thanks to contacts and growing into my adult body, you’re right. I hit my stride after high school.” I grin. “And now I know that the reason you don’t remember is because of injuries, not because—”
I bite my lip, and he lets go of my foot and pulls me up against him.
“I want to lie on top of you, but you’ll yell at me for it.”
“Too much strain on the knee,” I agree, but my voice is breathy now. Because his gaze his hot and intense and holy shit.
“I hate that I can’t remember because I do recall the hurt on your perfect face at the bar that night when I used the wrong name when I spoke to you, and it kills me that I made you feel any kind of way for even a heartbeat when you absolutely don’t deserve that.”
He drags his knuckles down my cheek, and I feel like purring again.
And then, his mouth is on mine, and I can’t think at all.