Follow You Down, page 14
Troy surprised me. On the way here, Nate and I both expected a wag-of-the-finger. We were ready for the coaches to lecture the players about expected behavior and how they were let down.
It wasn't what happened. Troy opened up the floor to the kids, asking them to talk about what they saw, and felt, and what they did. At first, they were quiet, looking to each other, waiting for someone to start.
As the silence rolled on, Nate cleared his throat and lifted his hand in the air.
Troy smiled. "Go ahead."
"I saw one of their defensive players push Kayden." It was a simple opener, but what the rest of the team needed to get going. Soon the basement filled with their voices as they talked over each other and agreed with each other—or argued about what happened first, or after Nate left, or what someone said to them.
The coaches didn't interrupt—they let the kids get it all out. I leaned against the wall next to the stairs taking it all in when there was movement from the basement door. Jilly squeaked it open, stuck her head in and glanced down. When our eyes met, she smiled and made a move to come down, but someone stopped her. The door opened wider, revealing Luke. He was dressed more casually than I'd seen him, in a pair of jeans and navy T-shirt. Jilly resisted whatever he was saying, and he knelt next to her, waiting for her to look at him before continuing.
Turning my back on them so Luke didn't have to talk to his daughter under the gaze of a virtual stranger, I focused on the team meeting. The conversation was slowing, the heat of the first couple minutes gone, so there were long pauses between comments.
Eventually, it was quiet and Troy asked another question, "What can we do differently if it happens again?"
I glanced upstairs, wincing because I forgot again not to whip my head around. Placing my hand on my neck, I rubbed the tightness. Not that it really did any good.
Jilly was gone, but Luke stood there, watching me. We stared at each other for a long time, and maybe it was because I couldn't move quickly, but I couldn't look away. Finally, he gestured in a come here motion. I pointed toward the basement. I had to stay until this was finished. Parental responsibility and all that.
He nodded, clearly understanding and I gave my attention back to Troy. Even after I did, though, I felt Luke staring at me.
"Parents," Troy started, and then catching my eye corrected, "Families, how can we support the sportsmanship of our players?"
The parents glanced at each other, and Troy waited. Instead of fixing each of the parents with his intense stare, however, he looked at me.
I cleared my throat. "Maybe…" Oh God, every single person's focus was on me now. "Maybe clap when the other team scores?" I sounded so stupid, and from the looks parents gave each other, they thought it was stupid, too.
But the coaches—and not just Troy—nodded. "Exactly. I played against the people who would later be on my team in high school. There was no point in alienating future teammates. Anyone else?"
There was a lull again, but thankfully, someone else stepped in, and the coaches didn't keep us on the spot for too long. We finished up not long after, once there was a review of expected behavior at games and on the bus, and then we were free.
"That wasn't too bad," Nate whispered as we trudged upstairs.
"Not at all," I replied, opening the basement door.
Luke was seated at a little round table in front of big windows that allowed bright sunlight to pour in. Behind him I could make out a spacious lawn and the sorts of gardens that belonged in magazines.
"Hi," I said, planning on walking right by, but he waved me over.
"Stay for a while." Behind me, someone snickered, and his gaze darted past me. A couple and their son hoofed it past us wearing matching smirks. I tried to tell myself their expressions had nothing to do with me, but I wasn't so sure, especially when Luke frowned.
A frown that led me to answer, "We should go."
He stared after the couple. "No," he said. "Stay for lunch. I know Troy wanted to talk to Nate, and if you don't mind, Jillian really wants to see you both. I promised her if she gave you space during the meeting, I'd ask."
Nate pulled out a chair, sat down and studied the kitchen. "What are you making?"
"I mean…" Luke's cheeks got even pinker and it was about the cutest thing I ever saw. "We usually grill on Sunday, so barbecue chicken, hot dogs, burgers and pasta salad. Nothing fancy."
"Susie boils hot dogs, and we don't have a grill. I'm in."
"Why does every answer have to somehow give away one of my very, very few flaws?" I asked, laughing. The kid threw me under the bus time and time again. But I smiled, because with Nate's teasing I was starting to believe we were going to be okay.
23
Luke
I listened to Nate tease Susanna with only half of my attention. The other half of my focus was on the Walls, the couple who wore matching shit-eating grins when they heard me invite Susanna to stay.
People accepted our nontraditional family because we'd been with Merit so long. As high school sweethearts, there was time to get used to a family that included me and Merit and my best friends. And of course, Merit wouldn't let anyone even think of laughing at her—or us. She went head on at anyone who made an off-handed comment, or wore a look she thought was judgmental.
It was one of my favorite things about her—her fearlessness. Her take-no-prisoners mentality. She wanted us, and she had us, and everyone else could go fuck themselves.
Susanna's confusion showed just how different she and my wife were.
My wife.
Suddenly parched, I picked up the glass of water in front of me and drank the whole thing down.
Susanna was beautiful today, and it seemed wrong that I noticed that. Even though she was dressed simply and comfortably, her dark eyes sparkled, and her loosely braided hair had wavy flyaway strands. Jilly had asked Reiner to braid her hair yesterday, and as he was the only one of us who had ever had long hair, he was the unofficial hair-doer. Not that we all didn't take a turn, but Rey made those complicated styles look easy. My ability was neat, but rarely met Jillian's expectations.
"Are you sure?" Susanna asked. She waved to one of the parents, and then seemed to tense as Jordan Benthume approached her.
"This friggin' guy," Nate whispered and I leaned forward.
"What's your issue with him?"
"Just watch."
If Jordan hadn't been so intent on Susanna, I would have been more careful, both about staring and with talking about someone who was three feet away from me.
He took his phone out, scrolling and then asked, "I can forward her contact information to you. I also have a masseuse who is fantastic. She and her partner do couple massages."
What the hell?
"What the heck?" Nate whispered.
Even Jordan's kid looked embarrassed. "I'm waiting in the car," he said, rolled his eyes at Nate and left.
I studied Jordan, looking at him closer than I ever had. He was tall, smiled too big with teeth that were too white—probably veneers—and had chosen a T-shirt a size too small. He and his wife divorced for reasons I didn't know and didn't care about. It wasn't like he was an awful guy. I never heard a thing about him cheating on his wife or being rude to waiters or whatever, but I didn't like him nonetheless.
And I really didn't like how close he was getting to Susanna.
The realization brought me up short. I had no right, and no reason, to feel anything when it came to Susanna. We had a handful of interactions, so why did it grate my nerves that this mother fucker had the gall to hit on a woman—a woman I had no claim to—in my kitchen?
"Jillian's calling you," Nate said.
Susanna turned, facing us. "She is?"
"Yeah," I replied. The lie came way too easily without a twinge of guilt.
"You promised her you'd go talk to her," Nate continued.
I covered my mouth to hide my smile. This was setting a shitty example for the kid, but oh, well. "I'll show you her room."
I stood and walked next to Susanna. Placing my hand on the small of her back, I guided her forward. Heat seared my palm, and it took all my willpower not to stroke up the length of her spine. With her first step, I made myself drop my hand, squeezing it in a fist to rid myself of the sensation of her body.
"Wait a sec," Jordan said. He thrust his phone at Susanna, so she was forced to either take it or let it fall. "Text me real quick so I have your number."
If you told me when I woke up this morning, that right around lunch time, I'd get into a pissing contest with a guy, I'd have laughed. Not only would I have laughed, I'd have called you crazy.
It happened like I was outside myself. I took the phone from Susanna, swiped the screen, and handed it back to Jordan. "She doesn't need your number, man. Got it?"
He stared at me, face going pink as his gaze slid to Susanna. "You're together."
"Yeah," Nate called. "They are. Susie, let's go see Jillian." Linking his arm with hers, he dragged her out of the room.
"I thought Merit was a one-off," Jordan said as they disappeared into the other room. "But this is just your thing. All of you pick a woman and go after her."
He said out loud what I'm certain everyone who knew me thought. I knew we were a hot topic in high school, and then in college, and later when we came back to town, got married and had Jillian. It made people stumble, trip over their words. But very few of them said what they were thinking. I had to give it to Jordan—he was doing what no one else had the balls to do.
I opened my mouth, not sure what I was going to say, when Susanna came storming back in. Her eyes flashed at me as Nate rushed in, hot on her heels.
"Jordan," she called, and she took a deep breath. "Jordan. I'm sorry. I don't want your number. Luke could probably tell I didn't know what to say, and gave me an out—which was kind." She smiled at me, but kept those dark eyes narrowed. "But unnecessary. I'm not interested. Thanks anyway."
And with that, she turned her back and left. Nate stood there, mouth open, a blush growing over his face.
"I—" I started.
"Fuck off," Jordan replied, and left.
Nate and I stood, staring at each other, and then toward the living room where Susanna had gone. "She, uh, can take care of herself," I said.
"I don't like him," Nate stated.
"I thought I was helping." But I wasn't, and now I owed the woman who was making me sit up and notice things, an apology.
Arms crossed, Susanna stood at the window, watching cars pull out of the driveway.
"I'm sorry."
Facing me, gaze bopping between me and Nate, she waited.
"Me, too," Nate finally added.
At his apology, she deflated. One hand went to the back of her neck. She was moving slower and more carefully than usual. Stupid Jordan noticing things. No wonder he was intent on giving her his number. The discomfort in her face made me want to do something, too.
"You know," she said, ignoring me completely, "I realized something, and I don't know how to handle it."
"What is it?" Nate asked.
She shifted uncomfortably.
The polite thing to do was walk away and let them have their family conference, but I didn't. I wanted to see how this worked—Susanna and Nate.
"There's a difference between looking out for me and being responsible for me. It's not your job to screen guys who try to get my number."
"It is if they're douche bags." He crossed his arms. The two of them looked so alike in that instant. Both glaring. Both stubborn as hell.
Crooking her finger, she gestured for him to stand next to her. Reluctantly, he did, but he glanced at me a little desperately before he went to her side.
"I'm a grown woman, and while I've shut down guys a lot more persistent than that one, here's the thing, what you did—and Luke—" Peering over at me, she half smiled. "Came from a good place. There's going to be a day when there will be a girl who says no—in whatever way—and there will be a guy who doesn't listen. You, my boy, will know the difference, and you'll do the right thing. The helpful thing. Whether you pretend to be her boyfriend, or walk her to the car, or tell the guy to back off, you'll help. That's looking out for someone, but being responsible for them? That's my job when it comes to you. I make sure you're fed and eat green vegetables every so often, and clean your stinky pits—"
"Susie!"
"You know what I mean." She put a hand on his shoulder, and had to look up to meet his eyes.
He stared at her, then me, then the ground. "Yeah. I get it. Did you want to go out with him?" he asked.
I held my breath, the answer important.
"Ew. No. His—"
"Teeth," she and Nate said at the same time and started to laugh. "Like Ross in that episode of Friends where his teeth glowed in the dark," Nate finished.
"But just because I'm curious, what's the difference between him and—" Susanna stopped suddenly, and lifted her eyes to mine. I got the sense she forgot I was there, and didn't want me to hear.
The difference between him and who? Was there someone Nate didn't think was a douchebag who liked her?
Of course there was.
Susanna was beautiful—graceful and funny and kind. She looked people in the eye when they talked and wasn't scanning the room for someone more interesting or more important.
Merit was the opposite of Susanna. I didn't want to admit it, but it was true.
Right after Jilly came home, and we were all exhausted, Merit had decided she wanted to have an art exhibit. We gave in, because we always gave Merit what she wanted.
The night of the art opening, no one would know that Jilly slept more than Merit. She'd stood there with her champagne glass, a dark blue dress hanging off her figure, and laughed, but her gaze never stayed on the person speaking. That night, it hadn't stayed on me either. Or Troy, or Reiner, or Henry.
It was the first time I knew for sure that I wasn't enough. None of us were.
She never looked at us the way Susanna did—and I didn't mean romantically, but present. In the moment. Susanna listened.
This isn't right. Comparing my wife to Susanna wasn't fair to Merit. She wasn't perfect, but I chose her. I loved her, and her flaws.
Or I had.
24
Susanna
Nate and I stared at each other and I hoped hoped I did this the right way. No matter how many articles I read, or counselors I talked to, I still felt parenting was eighty percent gut checks and twenty percent magical thinking.
I was proud of him—seeing I was uncomfortable and giving me an out with Divorced Dad, but I worried. He was only fourteen, and in his short life, experienced things no kid should. I was searching out a balance that didn't exist—helping him grow into a man, and making sure he had time and space to be a kid.
"You're still here."
Troy came into the living room, glanced at Luke and then us. "Want to stay for lunch?"
I glanced at Luke, too. He'd seen the whole thing. Me shooting down Jordan, and getting into the weeds with Nate. He might have changed his mind.
"Luke already invited us." Nate put his hand in his pocket. "We'll stay."
"Good," Troy replied. "You can help me in the kitchen."
Peering at me, Nate raised his eyebrows.
"Go ahead," I said. "But wash your hands first, I'm sure you scratched your butt."
"Susie!"
I smiled. Ragging on him was one of my favorite things, and since he was just as bad, I didn't feel a tiny bit guilty.
"Maybe Lincoln's dad hasn't left yet. I'll tell him you're looking for a husband." He started toward the door, but I grabbed him.
"Ha ha."
"Daddy, wait!" he called out, but laughed when I didn't let go.
Luke chuckled, but Troy asked, "What the heck happened up here?"
"Susie—"
"Nathan, I swear to God…" I let the rest of the threat trail off because I didn't have one.
Nate followed Troy into the kitchen. A moment later, the refrigerator door opened and closed.
"I'm sorry," Luke said. He pushed his hair away from his face. The strands were dark, though I caught the glint of silver. "I shouldn't have interfered."
I shrugged. "I should have been more up front with him. It just took me off guard, saying something in front of my—" I almost said kid, but Nate wouldn't like that, so I went with, "Nate."
"Yeah, and his own kid, too. Lincoln couldn't get out of here fast enough."
"I can't imagine what I would have done if my dad asked a woman out in front of me." My middle school self would have been beyond embarrassed.
We stared at each other and I found my face heating. I didn't know what to say, and the longer I stood in Luke's living room, the more awkward I became. "Your house is very nice."
"Henry designed it." He looked around the living room. "Do you want a tour?"
I smiled. "Sure."
"Come on, then." He walked past me and opened the front door. "I'll start with the best part."
He led me over the perfectly manicured lawn into the backyard. It stretched on, bigger than could be seen from his kitchen. A path led from the yard into the trees in back. "How many acres do you have?" I asked.
"Ten," he replied.
And then in the most middle-aged thing that ever came out of my mouth I said, "How are the taxes?" It made me freeze. "Fuck me, I'm old."
Luke laughed, caught his breath, and kept laughing. "Not bad," he offered. "We own the house, so we don't have a mortgage."
"I inherited my house."
"Henry said something about that." He walked past a blue and white playhouse, but I stopped to peer inside. It was decorated with matching gingham curtains hanging from a window, and had a table and chair.
"Did you make this?"
"Henry. Jilly hasn't used it in a long time, though. I'm afraid she's outgrown it." Something about his tone made me study him. The sides of his mouth turned down and his shoulders slumped.
