Reserved (The Pitstop Series Book 6), page 7
“You’re really full of yourself to assume that, you know?” I reply with a harsh laugh, and Lincoln spins around to hand me my cup.
“I am full of myself, but I also saw you staring at me in the reflection of the coffee machine,” he informs me, and I glance at the machine to see it’s made out of mirror glass.
“I don’t trust you enough to not watch you closely,” I say because I don’t want him to assume desire had anything to do with it.
Lincoln frowns at my words.
“Why are your arms covered in dirt?” I ask to change the subject as he places the cup in my hands, his fingers lingering for moments longer than they should. “Why are you still touching me?” I say, and Lincoln moves around the kitchen island to stand in front of me.
“Because I like touching you,” he admits but creates a distance between us to keep me comfortable. “I’m dirty because I was in the garage, working on a vase for my mum,” he explains with a shy smile.
Lincoln does pottery? Since when?
Those are questions I should probably ask out loud, but I don’t want him to think that I am even the slightest bit interested in his life.
“Come with me. I want to show you,” he says and holds out his hand for me to take. I slide out of the chair and make my way toward the garage without accepting his offer. He chuckles but doesn’t say anything.
The Nashes’ house is wonderful. It’s big but significantly smaller than my parents’. There are a lot of windows because Elena loves her natural light, and, unlike my house, it feels like a home. It’s not overly sophisticated, and the furniture isn’t expensive.
George and Elena had very little when they first bought this house thirty years ago, and it shows in everything they have displayed. In the four years I’ve lived in England, and in the ten years I’ve visited this house with my family, it has become more of a home than my parents’.
“Feeling nostalgic, butterfly?” Lincoln interrupts my reminiscing.
“You wanted to show me the vase?” I reply instead of admitting the truth.
“Yes,” he simply says before opening the garage door and revealing his workstation.
An electric potter’s wheel stands in the middle of the parking spot no one is using. A stool sits behind it and a piece of clay rests on top of the machine. It’s already been somewhat shaped into a vase, but I don’t think it’s anywhere near ready. Lincoln grabs my hand to pull me toward his work.
“My mum asked me to make her a bouquet vase. I’m halfway done.” His voice is full of excitement. “Come, sit, please,” he says when he gets another stool for me.
I hesitantly take the seat, but Lincoln is already on his stool, wetting his hands and the dough to keep working on it. Silence fills the garage, but it’s soon broken when the machine starts to hum.
“How long have you been doing pottery?” I ask.
“Um, a few years now. I don’t like to share this with anyone else, which is why no one knows, just my family,” he explains, his gaze focused on the clay. “And now you,” Lincoln adds before using more water on the clay to get it in the proper shape.
A sad feeling spreads through me.
“I wish my anger toward you wouldn’t taint every nice moment we have together, past ones and this one,” I admit, causing him to stop everything and look at me.
“Nevaeh, listen to me closely now, would you?” he asks, and I nod. “I was young and stupid—” he says, but I stand up and laugh dryly.
“Would you like to be any more cliché? Being young and stupid is no justification!” I yell as the anger I usually feel toward him returns. Lincoln gets up too before grabbing a towel to clean his hands on and walking toward me.
“I told you you’re not ready to hear my apology, and it’s bullshit that you choose not to see that. Don’t blame all of this on me. I want to apologize. Hell, I’d do it so often, you’d be sick of hearing it, but what’s the use when you won’t listen to me?” he screams back. My heart thumps against my ribcage from anger.
“I am ready, but that start was bullshit, and you know it!” His hands are clean now, which is why he slams the towel on the floor and gets even closer to me. I back away until my body touches a wall.
“I’m sorry! Okay? I’m so sorry for what I said. There is no justification, nothing that can make it better, but please, I can’t take you hating me anymore!” he yells at me, his hands moving to each side of me on the wall while both our hearts race and our breathing remains uneven. His lips are centimeters from mine and they get closer with each heartbeat. “Stop me,” he whispers, but my body fights against doing so.
Without thinking, without letting myself realize I don’t really want this anymore, that I haven’t wanted him in so long, I kiss him. I kiss him because I used to be in love with him and this was everything I had wanted to happen between us for so long, I lost track of time. I kiss him because he wants me to.
But as soon as my lips press against his, I know, I know I don’t kiss him because I’m still in love with him. I don’t want him anymore, and the heat of the moment won’t change that.
So, I push him away from me to get him to give me space.
“No, Lincoln, we can’t do this. This isn’t right. I’ve been mad at you for four years. Kissing you after you just apologized is not the right thing to do,” I go on and open the garage door to escape his captivating stare.
“Wait, Nevs!” he calls out, but I’m hurrying into the kitchen to grab my stuff and get out of here.
Lincoln’s dad, George, watches me the entire time I collect my things, and I politely wish him a good night.
Lincoln waits until we’re alone again before he says, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
The problem is, he didn’t. I kissed him. I got lost in the moment, and I kissed him. And it was a mistake I don’t intend on making again.
“You don’t have to leave. I won’t bother you again or speak to you, but don’t feel like you have to go home if you don’t want to,” Lincoln says.
“I’m okay, Lincoln, thanks,” I assure him and open the front door to step outside.
“Butterfly,” he says softly, and I hesitate. My eyes drift to his hazel ones. “I am sorry about everything.”
“I know, but it doesn’t make what you said simply go away,” I reply and walk away, tears filling my eyes at the memory.
Chapter 12
Adrian
“Look who has returned,” Gabriel announces, making Valentina snicker next to him.
“Look who’s still an idiot,” I reply, frowning at him.
“Oooh ouch. Must have not gone well,” my teammate whispers to my sister loudly enough for me to hear.
“Your face hasn’t gone well,” I say, but Gabriel gives me an unimpressed look.
“He’s resorting to immature rebuttals. It went worse than not well.” Valentina studies me for a moment before giving her fiancé an agreeing nod.
“Definitely didn’t go the way he was hoping,” my sister chimes in.
“Where’s Leonard? I thought he was coming to hang out with us tonight,” I say to change the subject.
The thought of Nevaeh and I almost kissing but getting interrupted is as exciting as it is disappointing. I’ve never wanted to taste a woman as badly as her because there must be something I discover about her that’ll turn me off. Maybe she’s a terrible kisser. Maybe her mouth on mine isn’t as intoxicating as I think it will be. Maybe one kiss will be enough for me to move on from this fascination I have with her.
“I’m here. Sorry I’m late, I was laughing at Adrian getting rejected and had to catch my breath,” Leonard replies, a slight lift to the corner of his mouth that is basically a full-faced smile for him.
“First of all, I didn’t get rejected. Second of all, I didn’t know grumpy assholes were capable of laughing,” I say, so he wraps his arm around my shoulders before threatening to cut off my air supply by placing his forearm to my throat.
“What was that?” he asks, and I burst into laughter.
“Nothing. Jesus. I know your wife is a trained fighter, but don’t listen to her. Violence is not the answer.” This makes Leonard chuckle a little.
“Don’t worry, I’m way too fucking sore from training to kick your arse in anything but bowling,” Leonard says and steps to the side to stretch his back.
“You should take it easy, mate. You’re at that age where you could easily injure yourself,” I tease, and Gabriel chuckles while Valentina bursts into laughter. My heart beams at the sight of their amusement, knowing I put it there.
“Yes, ha, ha, I am old. Guess what, tick tock, arsehole. Time stops for no one,” he says and pats my shoulder.
Valentina and Gabriel are crying-laughing at my dropped jaw, and, as much as I try not to, I join them anyway.
Fuck, I love all of them so much, it scares me.
Do I really want to add another name to my already long list of people I care about and am scared to lose? Because of a woman I met three months ago?
No, no I don’t.
Chapter 13
Nevaeh
When I walk into my parents’ house, Papa is sitting on the stairs at the entrance, waiting for me. He must have heard me get out of the taxi. I drop my jacket and purse from the fright of finding him there in complete darkness, making no sound other than his loud judgment and frustration.
“Good God, what are you doing up?” I ask because it’s midnight, and, most nights, he goes to sleep at ten.
Papa gives me a disappointed frown, which I see when I turn on the light in the foyer.
“Oh no, stop that. I hate that face. It always appears a moment before you say, ‘I can’t believe you chose to go to the Nashes instead of your own home.’ I've heard it often enough,” I complain and take my shoes off so I don’t have to keep looking at him.
“Actually, Nevaeh, I was going to tell you to grow up. I’m sick and tired of you disappearing whenever you don’t like what I have to say. I am your goddamn father, and you show me no respect! How do you think that makes me feel?” he asks, and anger fills me from bottom to top until it overflows.
“No, you know what, Papa? I’m tired of you treating me like a child when I try to keep things civil between us. I was mad earlier, and, frankly, fucking hurt from what you said. Distance was the one thing that kept me from yelling at you, from telling you that while I’m proud of your career, I’m angry with you for missing every important event in my life. I’m angry because work is always more important. You have no idea who I am, but you pretend like you do to make yourself feel better. That needs to stop. You need to observe for once in your life. Even when you’re here, you’re always busy. So, hear me now: get to know your daughter before you try and make her feel like crap about who she is.”
I’m not entirely sure where this came from, but it lifts a weight off my chest, shoulders, and heart.
My father runs his hands over his face before pointing at the ground in front of him, telling me to sit. If I hadn’t thrown a lot of bad words his way a second ago, I wouldn’t do as he wants. However, I did, and guilt forces my feet to bring me to where he’s signaling.
Papa waits patiently until I’m sitting before opening his mouth again.
“You’re right about everything you said, but you left something out, Vaeh. How can I get to know you when you barely share anything about your life? When you won’t tell me what happened between you and Lincoln?”
I stare down at the floor, ready to retell the one story I’ve never shared with anyone, not even Nova.
“You called me immature for my relationship with Lincoln earlier, and that was a shitty and unfair thing to say,” I point out, and Papa leans back on the stairs, his careful gaze on me.
“Tell me what he did.”
“Four years ago, when my rotator cuff tear happened, you weren’t there. It was just Mama, Lincoln, and me.” He nods once to acknowledge my words. “It was the final game of the season, the one where all the sponsors and recruiters attended, remember?”
Papa nods again, his fingers intertwining as he pays close attention to me.
“I was in the lead when it was my turn to serve. I felt the rip as soon as my racket connected with the ball. Then followed excruciating and unbearable pain. My scream rippled from the court through the crowd as I sank onto the floor, holding my shoulder and crying.”
Tears fall down my cheeks, and I see pain shoot through his eyes.
“They took me to the hospital where I got the emergency surgery that sealed my fate as the woman who failed to make her dream come true, even though I was a hair’s width away from making it.”
This one single sentence always makes me feel lost and helpless. I bring my mind back to the facts instead of the feelings.
“Right after I came out of surgery, the doctors warned me that it is highly unlikely I could ever become a professional with my busted shoulder.” They also didn’t do a good job fixing it, in my opinion, but whatever. “Lincoln came to visit me after my surgery. Do you know what he said to me?”
Papa shakes his head, and I look at the ceiling, searching for courage.
“He said, ‘It’s a good thing this happened now before you wasted your time in a career you couldn’t have gotten far in any way.’”
My heart rips apart a little because saying it out loud for the first time since it happened is more painful than I thought it'd be.
“So, you see, Papa, it’s not a childish quarrel. It’s a broken heart that got trampled on at its weakest.” My father wraps his arms around me and holds me close, letting me weep like a little kid.
“I’m sorry I didn’t hear you before, but I do now. What Lincoln said is inexcusable, but, for your sake, you have to let go of your anger, sweetheart. It’s breaking you, not him,” he says, and I nod.
This isn’t news to me, but things feel different now, at least a little. The pieces of my life are falling into place, and I have to get rid of the negativity holding me back. That means forgiving Lincoln for being the biggest idiot on the planet. I hope I find the courage to let go of my anger because I know it’s much easier to hold onto it than to let it go.
Papa releases me, and I turn around to see Mama standing in the doorframe, tears in her eyes. Out of the both of them, finding out what happened between Lincoln and me probably hits her the hardest. She’s the one who never took me seriously, never took a moment to ask why I hated him, and, now, I can see regret written all over her aged features.
“Nevaeh, I—I have no words. I’m so sorry, honey.” She wraps her arms around me and hugs me too tightly.
“Wait, it’s hugging time?” I hear Nova call out from upstairs before she storms downstairs and runs against me to join the embrace. Papa does the same, and we end up standing in the middle of the entrance, looking like a family that doesn’t have a thousand problems.
In other words, the complete opposite of us.
Chapter 14
Adrian
It’s been two days. Two fucking days. I’ve been trying to get this infuriating woman out of my head, but the feel of her lips on my finger still makes my skin tingle. It might be why I asked Nevaeh’s sister, Nova, for my mysterious woman’s number right before she left the bowling alley with her family.
Now, I’m sitting in the hotel room we’re staying at with Val and Gabriel at the table, playing a card game. Leonard and his wife, Chiara, are also here with their three-month-old sleeping in the grumpy man’s arms. She’s surprisingly silent, smiling like she couldn’t be happier to be with her father. Chiara is currently frowning at the floor, looking more tired than I’ve ever seen her before.
“You alright, Chiara?” I ask, bringing a soft smile to my lips.
Her attention drifts to my face as she slowly nods her head. It’s not surprising that she’s quiet, Chiara likes to keep more to herself, but she looks tired. I know that having a newborn is one of the toughest jobs in the world, but I still want to check in with her to see how she’s doing. I love her. Just like I love Leonard, Gabriel, James, Cameron, and James’ son Damian. In a quiet sort of way, playing it off more often than not, but always being there for them when they need me. It’s very different from how loudly I love my sister.
She’s my favorite person in the world, and I’ll never pretend otherwise.
“Yeah, Leonora was keeping me up all night, and this one slept through her screaming, which means I stayed awake,” she replies as she points at Leonard, her Italian accent strong.
She shoots her husband a vicious scowl, but I grin at the violence in her eyes, a promise to get payback later. Boy, am I glad I’m not Leonard right now. Chiara is a trained fighter, so getting on her bad side is one of the biggest no-nos for me.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I really am. Next time, kick me awake,” he says with his thick English accent, earning himself the smallest of smiles from his wife, which is the equivalent of the brightest of smiles for Chiara. They’re both grumpy as hell, and it’s cute when they let a little bit of sunshine onto their faces.
“See, this is why you should have married me. I would never do what Leonard did. I’d be awake for you at all times,” I say with a wink directed at Chiara. Leonard steps in front of me, his daughter safe in his arms as he glares at me.
“Chiara just had our baby. What more do you need to stop flirting with my wife?” he asks, looking unhappy when we both know I’m only teasing.
I’ve been flirting with Chiara from the moment I met her when the two of them were still denying their feelings for each other, and I doubt I’m going to stop anytime soon, not unless she tells me to. Or unless I get a girlfriend, and that’s not happening.
“She’ll wake up one day and realize she can do better than you, also known as me,” I reply with a self-assured grin.
“Hey, Adrian?” Chiara asks, and I twist my head to look around Leonard and at her. “Val told me you had a crush on Robert Fuchs’ daughter. How’s that going?” I can almost feel the color drain from my face.
“I am full of myself, but I also saw you staring at me in the reflection of the coffee machine,” he informs me, and I glance at the machine to see it’s made out of mirror glass.
“I don’t trust you enough to not watch you closely,” I say because I don’t want him to assume desire had anything to do with it.
Lincoln frowns at my words.
“Why are your arms covered in dirt?” I ask to change the subject as he places the cup in my hands, his fingers lingering for moments longer than they should. “Why are you still touching me?” I say, and Lincoln moves around the kitchen island to stand in front of me.
“Because I like touching you,” he admits but creates a distance between us to keep me comfortable. “I’m dirty because I was in the garage, working on a vase for my mum,” he explains with a shy smile.
Lincoln does pottery? Since when?
Those are questions I should probably ask out loud, but I don’t want him to think that I am even the slightest bit interested in his life.
“Come with me. I want to show you,” he says and holds out his hand for me to take. I slide out of the chair and make my way toward the garage without accepting his offer. He chuckles but doesn’t say anything.
The Nashes’ house is wonderful. It’s big but significantly smaller than my parents’. There are a lot of windows because Elena loves her natural light, and, unlike my house, it feels like a home. It’s not overly sophisticated, and the furniture isn’t expensive.
George and Elena had very little when they first bought this house thirty years ago, and it shows in everything they have displayed. In the four years I’ve lived in England, and in the ten years I’ve visited this house with my family, it has become more of a home than my parents’.
“Feeling nostalgic, butterfly?” Lincoln interrupts my reminiscing.
“You wanted to show me the vase?” I reply instead of admitting the truth.
“Yes,” he simply says before opening the garage door and revealing his workstation.
An electric potter’s wheel stands in the middle of the parking spot no one is using. A stool sits behind it and a piece of clay rests on top of the machine. It’s already been somewhat shaped into a vase, but I don’t think it’s anywhere near ready. Lincoln grabs my hand to pull me toward his work.
“My mum asked me to make her a bouquet vase. I’m halfway done.” His voice is full of excitement. “Come, sit, please,” he says when he gets another stool for me.
I hesitantly take the seat, but Lincoln is already on his stool, wetting his hands and the dough to keep working on it. Silence fills the garage, but it’s soon broken when the machine starts to hum.
“How long have you been doing pottery?” I ask.
“Um, a few years now. I don’t like to share this with anyone else, which is why no one knows, just my family,” he explains, his gaze focused on the clay. “And now you,” Lincoln adds before using more water on the clay to get it in the proper shape.
A sad feeling spreads through me.
“I wish my anger toward you wouldn’t taint every nice moment we have together, past ones and this one,” I admit, causing him to stop everything and look at me.
“Nevaeh, listen to me closely now, would you?” he asks, and I nod. “I was young and stupid—” he says, but I stand up and laugh dryly.
“Would you like to be any more cliché? Being young and stupid is no justification!” I yell as the anger I usually feel toward him returns. Lincoln gets up too before grabbing a towel to clean his hands on and walking toward me.
“I told you you’re not ready to hear my apology, and it’s bullshit that you choose not to see that. Don’t blame all of this on me. I want to apologize. Hell, I’d do it so often, you’d be sick of hearing it, but what’s the use when you won’t listen to me?” he screams back. My heart thumps against my ribcage from anger.
“I am ready, but that start was bullshit, and you know it!” His hands are clean now, which is why he slams the towel on the floor and gets even closer to me. I back away until my body touches a wall.
“I’m sorry! Okay? I’m so sorry for what I said. There is no justification, nothing that can make it better, but please, I can’t take you hating me anymore!” he yells at me, his hands moving to each side of me on the wall while both our hearts race and our breathing remains uneven. His lips are centimeters from mine and they get closer with each heartbeat. “Stop me,” he whispers, but my body fights against doing so.
Without thinking, without letting myself realize I don’t really want this anymore, that I haven’t wanted him in so long, I kiss him. I kiss him because I used to be in love with him and this was everything I had wanted to happen between us for so long, I lost track of time. I kiss him because he wants me to.
But as soon as my lips press against his, I know, I know I don’t kiss him because I’m still in love with him. I don’t want him anymore, and the heat of the moment won’t change that.
So, I push him away from me to get him to give me space.
“No, Lincoln, we can’t do this. This isn’t right. I’ve been mad at you for four years. Kissing you after you just apologized is not the right thing to do,” I go on and open the garage door to escape his captivating stare.
“Wait, Nevs!” he calls out, but I’m hurrying into the kitchen to grab my stuff and get out of here.
Lincoln’s dad, George, watches me the entire time I collect my things, and I politely wish him a good night.
Lincoln waits until we’re alone again before he says, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
The problem is, he didn’t. I kissed him. I got lost in the moment, and I kissed him. And it was a mistake I don’t intend on making again.
“You don’t have to leave. I won’t bother you again or speak to you, but don’t feel like you have to go home if you don’t want to,” Lincoln says.
“I’m okay, Lincoln, thanks,” I assure him and open the front door to step outside.
“Butterfly,” he says softly, and I hesitate. My eyes drift to his hazel ones. “I am sorry about everything.”
“I know, but it doesn’t make what you said simply go away,” I reply and walk away, tears filling my eyes at the memory.
Chapter 12
Adrian
“Look who has returned,” Gabriel announces, making Valentina snicker next to him.
“Look who’s still an idiot,” I reply, frowning at him.
“Oooh ouch. Must have not gone well,” my teammate whispers to my sister loudly enough for me to hear.
“Your face hasn’t gone well,” I say, but Gabriel gives me an unimpressed look.
“He’s resorting to immature rebuttals. It went worse than not well.” Valentina studies me for a moment before giving her fiancé an agreeing nod.
“Definitely didn’t go the way he was hoping,” my sister chimes in.
“Where’s Leonard? I thought he was coming to hang out with us tonight,” I say to change the subject.
The thought of Nevaeh and I almost kissing but getting interrupted is as exciting as it is disappointing. I’ve never wanted to taste a woman as badly as her because there must be something I discover about her that’ll turn me off. Maybe she’s a terrible kisser. Maybe her mouth on mine isn’t as intoxicating as I think it will be. Maybe one kiss will be enough for me to move on from this fascination I have with her.
“I’m here. Sorry I’m late, I was laughing at Adrian getting rejected and had to catch my breath,” Leonard replies, a slight lift to the corner of his mouth that is basically a full-faced smile for him.
“First of all, I didn’t get rejected. Second of all, I didn’t know grumpy assholes were capable of laughing,” I say, so he wraps his arm around my shoulders before threatening to cut off my air supply by placing his forearm to my throat.
“What was that?” he asks, and I burst into laughter.
“Nothing. Jesus. I know your wife is a trained fighter, but don’t listen to her. Violence is not the answer.” This makes Leonard chuckle a little.
“Don’t worry, I’m way too fucking sore from training to kick your arse in anything but bowling,” Leonard says and steps to the side to stretch his back.
“You should take it easy, mate. You’re at that age where you could easily injure yourself,” I tease, and Gabriel chuckles while Valentina bursts into laughter. My heart beams at the sight of their amusement, knowing I put it there.
“Yes, ha, ha, I am old. Guess what, tick tock, arsehole. Time stops for no one,” he says and pats my shoulder.
Valentina and Gabriel are crying-laughing at my dropped jaw, and, as much as I try not to, I join them anyway.
Fuck, I love all of them so much, it scares me.
Do I really want to add another name to my already long list of people I care about and am scared to lose? Because of a woman I met three months ago?
No, no I don’t.
Chapter 13
Nevaeh
When I walk into my parents’ house, Papa is sitting on the stairs at the entrance, waiting for me. He must have heard me get out of the taxi. I drop my jacket and purse from the fright of finding him there in complete darkness, making no sound other than his loud judgment and frustration.
“Good God, what are you doing up?” I ask because it’s midnight, and, most nights, he goes to sleep at ten.
Papa gives me a disappointed frown, which I see when I turn on the light in the foyer.
“Oh no, stop that. I hate that face. It always appears a moment before you say, ‘I can’t believe you chose to go to the Nashes instead of your own home.’ I've heard it often enough,” I complain and take my shoes off so I don’t have to keep looking at him.
“Actually, Nevaeh, I was going to tell you to grow up. I’m sick and tired of you disappearing whenever you don’t like what I have to say. I am your goddamn father, and you show me no respect! How do you think that makes me feel?” he asks, and anger fills me from bottom to top until it overflows.
“No, you know what, Papa? I’m tired of you treating me like a child when I try to keep things civil between us. I was mad earlier, and, frankly, fucking hurt from what you said. Distance was the one thing that kept me from yelling at you, from telling you that while I’m proud of your career, I’m angry with you for missing every important event in my life. I’m angry because work is always more important. You have no idea who I am, but you pretend like you do to make yourself feel better. That needs to stop. You need to observe for once in your life. Even when you’re here, you’re always busy. So, hear me now: get to know your daughter before you try and make her feel like crap about who she is.”
I’m not entirely sure where this came from, but it lifts a weight off my chest, shoulders, and heart.
My father runs his hands over his face before pointing at the ground in front of him, telling me to sit. If I hadn’t thrown a lot of bad words his way a second ago, I wouldn’t do as he wants. However, I did, and guilt forces my feet to bring me to where he’s signaling.
Papa waits patiently until I’m sitting before opening his mouth again.
“You’re right about everything you said, but you left something out, Vaeh. How can I get to know you when you barely share anything about your life? When you won’t tell me what happened between you and Lincoln?”
I stare down at the floor, ready to retell the one story I’ve never shared with anyone, not even Nova.
“You called me immature for my relationship with Lincoln earlier, and that was a shitty and unfair thing to say,” I point out, and Papa leans back on the stairs, his careful gaze on me.
“Tell me what he did.”
“Four years ago, when my rotator cuff tear happened, you weren’t there. It was just Mama, Lincoln, and me.” He nods once to acknowledge my words. “It was the final game of the season, the one where all the sponsors and recruiters attended, remember?”
Papa nods again, his fingers intertwining as he pays close attention to me.
“I was in the lead when it was my turn to serve. I felt the rip as soon as my racket connected with the ball. Then followed excruciating and unbearable pain. My scream rippled from the court through the crowd as I sank onto the floor, holding my shoulder and crying.”
Tears fall down my cheeks, and I see pain shoot through his eyes.
“They took me to the hospital where I got the emergency surgery that sealed my fate as the woman who failed to make her dream come true, even though I was a hair’s width away from making it.”
This one single sentence always makes me feel lost and helpless. I bring my mind back to the facts instead of the feelings.
“Right after I came out of surgery, the doctors warned me that it is highly unlikely I could ever become a professional with my busted shoulder.” They also didn’t do a good job fixing it, in my opinion, but whatever. “Lincoln came to visit me after my surgery. Do you know what he said to me?”
Papa shakes his head, and I look at the ceiling, searching for courage.
“He said, ‘It’s a good thing this happened now before you wasted your time in a career you couldn’t have gotten far in any way.’”
My heart rips apart a little because saying it out loud for the first time since it happened is more painful than I thought it'd be.
“So, you see, Papa, it’s not a childish quarrel. It’s a broken heart that got trampled on at its weakest.” My father wraps his arms around me and holds me close, letting me weep like a little kid.
“I’m sorry I didn’t hear you before, but I do now. What Lincoln said is inexcusable, but, for your sake, you have to let go of your anger, sweetheart. It’s breaking you, not him,” he says, and I nod.
This isn’t news to me, but things feel different now, at least a little. The pieces of my life are falling into place, and I have to get rid of the negativity holding me back. That means forgiving Lincoln for being the biggest idiot on the planet. I hope I find the courage to let go of my anger because I know it’s much easier to hold onto it than to let it go.
Papa releases me, and I turn around to see Mama standing in the doorframe, tears in her eyes. Out of the both of them, finding out what happened between Lincoln and me probably hits her the hardest. She’s the one who never took me seriously, never took a moment to ask why I hated him, and, now, I can see regret written all over her aged features.
“Nevaeh, I—I have no words. I’m so sorry, honey.” She wraps her arms around me and hugs me too tightly.
“Wait, it’s hugging time?” I hear Nova call out from upstairs before she storms downstairs and runs against me to join the embrace. Papa does the same, and we end up standing in the middle of the entrance, looking like a family that doesn’t have a thousand problems.
In other words, the complete opposite of us.
Chapter 14
Adrian
It’s been two days. Two fucking days. I’ve been trying to get this infuriating woman out of my head, but the feel of her lips on my finger still makes my skin tingle. It might be why I asked Nevaeh’s sister, Nova, for my mysterious woman’s number right before she left the bowling alley with her family.
Now, I’m sitting in the hotel room we’re staying at with Val and Gabriel at the table, playing a card game. Leonard and his wife, Chiara, are also here with their three-month-old sleeping in the grumpy man’s arms. She’s surprisingly silent, smiling like she couldn’t be happier to be with her father. Chiara is currently frowning at the floor, looking more tired than I’ve ever seen her before.
“You alright, Chiara?” I ask, bringing a soft smile to my lips.
Her attention drifts to my face as she slowly nods her head. It’s not surprising that she’s quiet, Chiara likes to keep more to herself, but she looks tired. I know that having a newborn is one of the toughest jobs in the world, but I still want to check in with her to see how she’s doing. I love her. Just like I love Leonard, Gabriel, James, Cameron, and James’ son Damian. In a quiet sort of way, playing it off more often than not, but always being there for them when they need me. It’s very different from how loudly I love my sister.
She’s my favorite person in the world, and I’ll never pretend otherwise.
“Yeah, Leonora was keeping me up all night, and this one slept through her screaming, which means I stayed awake,” she replies as she points at Leonard, her Italian accent strong.
She shoots her husband a vicious scowl, but I grin at the violence in her eyes, a promise to get payback later. Boy, am I glad I’m not Leonard right now. Chiara is a trained fighter, so getting on her bad side is one of the biggest no-nos for me.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I really am. Next time, kick me awake,” he says with his thick English accent, earning himself the smallest of smiles from his wife, which is the equivalent of the brightest of smiles for Chiara. They’re both grumpy as hell, and it’s cute when they let a little bit of sunshine onto their faces.
“See, this is why you should have married me. I would never do what Leonard did. I’d be awake for you at all times,” I say with a wink directed at Chiara. Leonard steps in front of me, his daughter safe in his arms as he glares at me.
“Chiara just had our baby. What more do you need to stop flirting with my wife?” he asks, looking unhappy when we both know I’m only teasing.
I’ve been flirting with Chiara from the moment I met her when the two of them were still denying their feelings for each other, and I doubt I’m going to stop anytime soon, not unless she tells me to. Or unless I get a girlfriend, and that’s not happening.
“She’ll wake up one day and realize she can do better than you, also known as me,” I reply with a self-assured grin.
“Hey, Adrian?” Chiara asks, and I twist my head to look around Leonard and at her. “Val told me you had a crush on Robert Fuchs’ daughter. How’s that going?” I can almost feel the color drain from my face.
