by Tessa Bailey
“Yeah,” she said loudly, tipping her face toward the ceiling. “What about you? Have you apologized to her for…the squandering?”
“It’s too late.” A python coiled around his rib cage. “I’d only make it worse.”
He could practically hear Alice shuffling through responses in her head. She looked about as hollow as he felt. Nothing like the buoyancy he’d glimpsed in his daughter while she cooked with Peggy in the kitchen. Or when she’d emerged from the auditorium bathroom that afternoon, the sagging quality of her shoulders long gone.
Thinking back on those two recent memories, Elliott acknowledged something important. He’d felt no guilt when looking at Peggy now. No sense of failure within himself, like he had during his darkest period. He’d driven her away because she’d eclipsed the love he’d felt for anyone prior. She’d forced him too close to forgiving himself when he hadn’t been ready. But none of that useless resentment lingered inside him now. When he looked at Peggy now, all he saw was the light his soul had been missing. God, he missed her.
“You’re probably right. It’s too late,” Alice finally murmured, picking up the remote control and flipping on the television. Animal Planet hummed at a low volume while he hoped for her to continue, but she took her sweet time. “She’s way out of your league anyway.”
Elliott barked a laugh, sending Alice jumping a good few inches into the air. But after his initial amusement faded—and it faded fast—his skin felt raw, stretched out. “Is this reverse psychology you’re attempting with me?”
“Nope.” His daughter browsed channels without looking at him. “Seriously, the sooner she leaves, the better. You don’t have time for some high-maintenance cheerleader type.” She made a sour face. “She’d probably want to go on dates. God, can you imagine yourself on a date?”
He really couldn’t help it now, could he? The image projected itself before he could stop it. Him and Peggy sitting across from one another in a restaurant, her skin glowing in the candlelight. His hand would rest on her knee beneath the table, holding it still—commanding her attention—when she started to bounce with energy. Walking her to the car afterward tucked into his side. Absurd. The whole idea was absurd.
His stomach churned like a wheel stuck in mud.
“Just lay low for a couple more days and she’ll be gone again. She probably won’t make it two miles before someone who loves dates asks her on one.”
The python squeezed. “Okay, now I know this is reverse psychology.”
“Yeah, okay, whatever. Doesn’t stop it from being the truth.” Alice left the television on an infomercial about some revolutionary shampoo and faced him. “You need to focus on football, right? Peggy would only distract you.”
His nod was stilted. “Right.”
“So let her go distract someone else who doesn’t mind.” Sadness passed over Alice’s features. “Someone who’ll appreciate her.”
I appreciate her. I just didn’t realize how much.
That same odd sense of vertigo Elliott had experienced while walking to the house hit him again. He was lying there in a hospital bed, listening to someone relate the events that had taken place while he’d been under. She left you, sir. Don’t you remember her getting into the cab? It’s been three years since you fell asleep. Like tree roots gnarling around his organs at warp speed. Being without him had been difficult for Peggy…but until now he hadn’t allowed himself to admit he’d been a zombie since she’d gone.
Let her go distract someone else. Someone who’ll appreciate her.
I appreciate her now, though. I understand the loss I’ve been living with. Am I just going to live with this new awareness? Or fucking do something about it?
Peggy could do infinitely better than a man who’d inflicted damage on such a beautiful soul. God. For that alone, he deserved a lifetime of being without her. He could go back to being a member of the living dead, going through the motions, claiming he’d already lost the game. Or he could rally and fight for what he needed. For his woman.
Keeping her in Cincinnati.
Allowing himself to admit what he wanted only brought into perspective what a long shot it was. A hundred-yard field goal. Maybe he should hope for a more realistic outcome, but he wouldn’t be satisfied with anything less than having Peggy here. With him. Whether she went to New York and returned. Or never left. Right now, he just needed to focus on earning the right to be a part of that decision at all. Then he would take another step, and another, until she saw he’d walk a million miles to keep her.
Ten minutes later when Elliott closed himself in his office, opening a fresh notepad, it wasn’t football that demanded his focus.
No, it was an entirely new set of plays. He’d need to execute every single one of them to perfection if he wanted to win.
Chapter Sixteen
Peggy stood at the entrance to the room she shared with Sage, squinting into the darkness to find her best friend asleep, buried under a pile of wedding venue brochures. After what she’d done with Elliott, there was no way she could lie down and sleep, but there would be no Golden Girls marathon tonight. Her emotions were a pile of shredded cheese, every erogenous zone on her body singing with satisfaction, which she really didn’t want to acknowledge.
Moving as quietly as possible, Peggy slipped into the room and snagged her laptop, along with the manila folder resting on top, then ducked back out into the hallway. No sooner had she set up camp in a cross-legged position than Belmont came pacing closer from the opposite end, carrying a green-labeled soda, presumably from the vending machine. Ginger ale?
He tucked it into his jacket pocket before she could confirm, leaning against the wall across from her and watching her with all-knowing blue eyes. Maybe it was the current tangle of her senses or her lack of sleep since arriving in Cincinnati, but a thought flitted through her mind as she regarded her brother, who appeared and disappeared at will.
He’s a ghost.
As soon as the brainwave occurred, she hated it. Wished it had never passed through her mind. But it stuck anyway.
As a teenager, she could remember studying for history exams, lying on her bed with an open textbook…and searching the old grainy black-and-white wartime photographs for Belmont’s face. It made no sense then and it still didn’t. He was standing right there, solid as humanly possible. Maybe it was the way he didn’t like to be touched very often, or the way he spoke so differently and with such gravity, that made her wonder if someday, when he wasn’t looking, she would lay a hand on his back…and it would pass right through him. And she would trade knowing looks with her other siblings, as if they’d suspected all along.
Belmont’s spirit was more substantial than time.
“What are you doing out here?” Peggy asked, staring down at the floral-patterned carpet. “Standing guard over Sage?”
She could sense his abashed expression without glancing up, so his dark rumble surprised her. “Not only Sage.”
“But I wasn’t even here,” she pushed past rubbery lips.
“You’re here now.” He paused. “Or are you?”
Her laughter was short and humorless. “I was wondering the same thing about you.”
Peggy finally looked up at her brother and immediately wanted to take back her words. They’d caused the blue of his eyes to go almost black, but she didn’t think making light of what she’d said would help, either. Who was her brother really? If she hadn’t wondered the same thing thousands of times, she would accuse herself of using the mystery of Belmont to distract her from Elliott.
Elliott.
Hearing his name echo in her head was enough to make her fists clench. Goddamn him for what he’d done outside. Ruining her chance to escape. To move on without any more struggling. I need your hands and eyes. I missed them most of all.
Well the struggle might have just gotten twice as real, but so had her determination to move on. Because whatever she’d felt for Elliott the man? She was declaring it dead. At one tim
e there’d been more than sexual dependency and her need for approval between them, not that Elliott would admit it. But he’d slowly killed the good. She’d be damned before trying to revive it, when he didn’t want it back.
I’m over you, Elliott Brooks.
Belmont sat down across from her, although he had a far more difficult time arranging his bulk into a comfortable position. Flicking a glance at Peggy, he removed the ginger ale from his pocket and set it aside carefully.
“Bel,” Peggy said on a sigh. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I don’t like to see you worried. Especially when I can save you from it.”
He glanced toward the hotel room door to Peggy’s left. “Hmm.”
Peggy chewed her lip a moment. “Sage just has her period, okay? So if maybe she’s acting a little different…that’s all it is. Despite what you see in tampon commercials, it doesn’t exactly make you want to rappel down the side of a mountain.”
For the space of ten breaths, his features were carved in granite. “You must think I’m foolish for not realizing that. Sage, as well.”
“No.” Peggy reached toward her brother, laying a hand on the carpet. “No one could ever think that about you. Not in a million years.”
He didn’t believe her. She could see it in the bunching of his shoulders, the way he looked down at the ginger ale, as if willing it to disappear. However, she could tell by Belmont’s relative calm that he still wasn’t aware that Sage planned to leave. Part of her was desperate to tell her brother, because he would fight like hell to change Sage’s mind. He wouldn’t rest until he reached her. But Sage’s departure wasn’t Peggy’s plan to reveal. “Are we going to lose you on this trip, too, Peggy?”
“What?” Her heart lurched. Not just at the left field quality of the question, but the reminder that Rita and Aaron were gone, their seats in the Suburban empty. “No. Why would you ask me that?”
No answer. “I don’t know how to be alone with Sage anymore. If it were to come to that.” He rubbed his thumb along the crease of his chin, then let the hand drop. “I can manage it sometimes, but others…” He avoided her eyes. “The thoughts I have about her are disrespectful.”
It hadn’t been easy for her introverted brother to make that admission out loud, and Peggy quietly cursed, wishing Aaron were there to pull everything into perspective with a wry one-liner. “You don’t have it in you to be disrespectful, Bel. What you’re feeling is healthy.” She smiled. “There’s a damn good chance she’s having those same thoughts about you.”
Horror took ownership of his expression. “No. Not Sage.” They sat in silence for a few long moments, before Belmont spoke again. “Being here is bad for you, Peggy, I can see it. I want to pack you both up and go.”
“That sounds like you want to stuff us inside your suitcase.” Love clawed at her throat. Love and dread, because he could very well be right. Little parts of her had been chipped away since arriving, only she didn’t know which ones. Or if they would fit back into place if she found them. “Don’t worry, Bel. We’ll go soon enough.”
She flattened her palms on the manila folder, before flipping it open to reveal names, phone numbers, and e-mail addresses of Elliott’s past players who were now in the NFL. Elliott’s secretary—obviously shocked by her boss’s agreement—had been very helpful that afternoon in providing contacts. And as Peggy had expected, the generosity of the alumni committee had shone bright as always, showing no hesitation in directing the funds toward the Tate family, instead of the cheerleading program.
“There’s just something I want to see done before we go,” Peggy said.
“Can I help?” He gestured to the laptop. “I’ve got one of those in my room. I’m still warming up to the Internet, but—”
“But you’ve been using it to find your father,” Peggy finished, praying he wouldn’t shut down on her. “How is it…going?”
He kept his eyes glued on her computer. “Fine. I think I’m close.”
She should have been happier, knowing his goal was within reach, but there was a selfish part of her that didn’t want some unknown person to have any part of Belmont. He was theirs. “Will you let me know when you find something?”
“Of course.” Still, he didn’t look at her, nodding once again at the laptop. “Why don’t you tell me what I can do to help?”
“You mean get us out of Cincinnati faster?”
The corner of his mouth tugged. “That was somewhere between the lines.”
Peggy breathed out a hum of relief that they were back to making eye contact, even if she could still see his secrets lurking. “I met this guy today—a football player—and there was just something good about him.” Holding the laptop and folder, she walked on her knees across the hallway, plonking down beside her brother. “He needs help.”
Belmont laid a hand on the crown of her head, banishing the remaining chill with which she’d walked back into the hotel. “This is you, Peggy,” he said. “This is what the right man will see.”
He stood to a height that towered over Peggy, retrieved his own computer from his room, and they worked in silence until the sun came up.
Chapter Seventeen
I told you I make a kick-ass hollandaise sauce,” Peggy murmured, drawing the fork back from Elliott’s chewing mouth. She was wrapped in a sheet in the center of his bed, his back was propped against the headboard, and the fingertips of morning were just beginning to pick their way through the blinds. “Is there anything she can’t do? That’s what you’re supposed to say next.”
His throat worked as he swallowed and, much to Peggy’s delight, grunted for more. “I was five minutes late to practice yesterday because I went shopping for eggs and a mixing bowl, just so it would be here when you came over. I’m never late.” He snagged a finger in her sheet and tugged. “So yeah, I’d say there’s not much you can’t do, Miss Clarkson.”
Failing to hide her pleasure, Peggy did a sitting victory dance on the bed and forked another bite of eggs Benedict past Elliott’s sculpted lips. “Reactions must have ranged from curious to aghast. The Kingmaker late for practice. Next he’ll forget to iron his polo shirt and the earth will forget which direction to spin.”
“You’re making my chest hurt.”
She dropped the fork onto the plate with a clatter. “What?”
Elliott’s gaze cut away, clearly having surprised himself. “The way you’re sitting there…the sun making your skin glow.” He sat up straighter in an abrupt movement that dipped that mattress. “Looking at you makes me want to forget everything else and never stop. Every time I’m with you, I come closer to giving in. Setting aside my responsibilities so I can spend more time looking and listening to each and every damn word out of your mouth. Every time.”
Heart running circles around her rib cage, Peggy set the plate of food aside and threw herself at Elliott, laying across him horizontally, her lower half still twisted in the sheet. “You don’t have to set anything aside, you can just shift them a little.” She smiled into his chest hair. “I’m short. I’ll fit.”
He didn’t speak for a long time after that, but the lighter it got outside, the more tension she could feel creeping into his shoulders. And then it was time to get up.
* * *
Elliott leaned back against the windshield of his truck and closed his eyes, because the feeling of Peggy lounging between his outstretched legs was more satisfying than any sunrise. He needed to snatch up every single second of the paradise she provided, because it couldn’t go on forever. Happiness this all-encompassing didn’t maintain itself. He could still see his mother and father going through the motions like a residual haunting…and he’d done the same in his own marriage. Through fatherhood. He’d been inflicted with the same DNA and eventually it would poison Peggy. At all costs, he would make sure that didn’t happen. He couldn’t allow her light to be dimmed by one iota.
She nudged him with an elbow, tipping her head back so he could see her dreamy expression, eyel
ashes gilded with sunshine. “What are you thinking about so hard, Coach?”
He cleared the debris from his throat. “I’m thinking I’ve never sat on the hood of a car before.”
“No?” She played with the laces of his boots. “It’s good to try new things, don’t you think?”
No. No, they only set you up for disappointment. “I guess it depends what we’re talking about.” He slipped his hands into her hair at the back of her head, tugging gently. “Is there something new you want to try?”
Elliott watched her legs grow restless on the hood, her knees pressing together the way they’d done around his head in the backseat a couple hours earlier, before he’d driven them out to East Fork State Park to watch the sun come up over the lake. “Yeah. Everything.” She paused. “I want to try everything with you.”
It took him a moment to find his voice. “Better be specific while I’m in a good mood.”
Her lips curved up into a breath-stealing smile. “Let’s go swimming.”
He shook his head. “This is the part where I say we don’t have our swimsuits—”
“Bingo.” She sat up and tugged the T-shirt over her head, sliding off the side of the hood to drop her skirt and crook a finger at him. “Better strip, Coach. Don’t want to let me down.”
That’s what I’m afraid of. The countdown clock ticking in the back of his mind cranked up the volume as he removed his shirt in one movement and strode after a squealing Peggy.
Paradise.
* * *
“Every move you make drives my men insane. You should hear how they talk about you,” Elliott rasped a breath away from her ear. “One of them plans to ask you out, and I swear to God, Peggy, if you say yes—”
“Why would I do that?” She ran her palms over his heaving pectorals. “I’m here with you, aren’t I? I don’t want to be anywhere else.”
He stooped down and pressed his open mouth to her neck, sucking her skin. Hard. Making his mark? “So fucking jealous. You’re going to feel how much.”