Watching Bryan score the winning goal is the shining moment of the day. As he turns the corner of the field, he expectantly looks up to the bleachers. I only hope that pride I feel for him shines through on my face. I’m in awe of his talents. Besides, watching his muscles strain under the clingy soccer jersey hasn’t been all too hard on my eyes for the last ninety minutes.
Nope. Not bad at all!
After the game is over, there’s a brief trophy presentation and the team lines up for their last picture. Even though Ithaca is only a Division III school for sports, the athletic competition is still fierce. So is the bond that’s created between teammates. All of the guys are smiling and clapping each other on the back—congratulating everyone on a great season.
All of the parents stand in a line, snapping their own photos as well. As usual, I stand in the background and try to go unnoticed.
When the crowd clears, I make my way over to Bryan and his parents. But, rather than cheery smiles and happy conversation, I walk into a tension-laden atmosphere filled with jilted words.
“Fine. Leave then.” Bryan’s curt words are laced with hurt.
“Oh, honey. We don’t want to leave. It’s just that your father . . .” Jane’s voice is tenderly apologetic. I can tell that she really is sorry that she can’t stay for rest of the weekend.
Dan stalks back over to Bryan and Jane as he slides his phone back into the front pocket of his khaki pants. “Sorry, son. But I have to get back. This can’t wait until Monday.” Dan may be saying that he’s sorry, but his face conveys anything but an apology.
“Let’s go now, Jane. I was able to move the flight, but we have to be at the airport in an hour.” Dan is pulling Jane off the field as Bryan and I stumble behind them.
“What happened, Bryan? I thought they were staying.”
“Yeah, well, I guess other things are more important,” he mutters as we approach his parents’ car. When I lace my fingers with his, I can feel the tension radiating off his body. He squeezes my hand in return and looks down at me with sadness in his eyes.
When we get to the car, Bryan releases my hand and gently brushes his lips against my temple. Opening the door for his mother, Bryan helps her into the car. The sweet kiss that he plants on her cheek suggests that he’s not mad at her. The glaring look he shoots at his father across the roof suggests that he’s more than angry with him. His father says nothing and just slides in to his seat.
Leaning into the window, Bryan tells his mom, “Be sure to call me when you land. I’ll talk to you later, I guess. Tell Emmie I love her and I’ll talk to her soon.”
Smiling brightly up at her son, of whom I know she is so proud, Jane says, “I will, Bryan. Love you. You played great today. We’ll celebrate in a few weeks when you’re home, okay? I know Emmie would love to be there too.”
“Sure, Mom. That sounds good. I’ll talk to you later.” He’s trying to make his words seem cheerful, to make it sound like he’s not affected by their departure, but I know different. Bryan has been so excited to have his parents finally come here for a visit. Since he lives down in North Carolina, they don’t often get the chance to fly to upstate New York for a random weekend to visit their son. He won’t admit it, but I know he’s upset that they’re leaving.
Bryan’s parents pull out of the small parking lot next to the soccer field, and when they’re nothing but a small dot in the distance, I reach down and lace my fingers with his. “I’m sorry, Babe. I know you were looking forward to them being here.”
He pulls our joined hands up to his lips and kisses my knuckles sweetly. “Ehh, it’s okay.” He’s trying to play it cool, but I can see through his little act. I’m not going to push it, though. He deserves to celebrate and enjoy the last day of his successful soccer career.
“Come on. We’ll go have dinner at Bella’s and you can chew my ear off about soccer all night.” I look up at him with my big, blue eyes and hope that his mood shifts. “You know Bella would love to hear how your game went.” At the mention of Bella’s name, Bryan’s face softens and he smiles at me.
“Sure. Sounds good.” A soft kiss to my lips and we’re walking off to the dorms and hopefully into a good night.
To say that Bella is excited to see us again is an understatement. She practically hangs on every word as Bryan tells her about his game and the end of his soccer career. His parents may not be here to celebrate with him, but Bella has more than made up for that.
After she seats us at a quiet table in the corner, she insists that she’ll bring us something special, so she doesn’t even give us the menus. As she gently places her hand on his shoulder, she says to Bryan, “It’s so nice to see you here for more than computer repair.” Her warm face lights up with appreciation as she walks away to the kitchen.
“So what do you think she’ll bring us this time?” It’s a pointless question, really. We’ve been here a few times in the month we’ve been dating and every time it’s something different, something not on the menu, something just for us.
“Whatever it is, she better bring it out soon. I’m starving,” he says before he bites off a huge chunk of bread.
“Yeah, well you ran your ass off during that game.” I smile and then, pitching my voice a bit lower, add, “It’s a mighty fine ass too.” His eyes widen a little at my somewhat forward statement.
“You’ve got quite a fine ass too, Melanie,” he says without missing a beat.
Rather than roll my eyes at his compliment, I opt for playfulness. “Yeah, I know, right? This guy I’ve been seeing keeps telling me that.” I deadpan, but rather than lightening the mood, what was supposed to be a playful quip, forces Bryan’s look to harden. The atmosphere suddenly feels chilly, his stare cold and hard.
“You’re seeing someone else?” His disbelieving and hurt voice makes me instantly regret my words. “I thought . . .” The rest of his words trail off and he reaches for his water.
“Bryan, I was just kidding. I was playing around. You know, like we usually do. I didn’t mean anything by it.” I wish I could take my words back, swallow them down along with the embarrassment and stupidity I’m feeling.
The moments stretch out long and awkwardly before he can even look at me again. When his warm brown eyes meet my blue ones, it’s like he’s baring his soul. “I just thought that . . . well, I mean . . . We’ve been dating for a while and I guess I just thought that you were only seeing me.”
“Oh my God, Bryan. Of course I’m only seeing you. There’s no one else. Is there anyone else for you?” I hadn’t even thought of that. What if he is seeing someone? What if it’s Courtney? No matter how many times I try to keep my insecurities at bay, they always seem to resurface.
Reaching for my hand across the table, he squeezes tenderly as he says, “Look, I know we haven’t been together all that long, but I don’t want to see anyone else besides you. We may not have gotten off to the easiest of starts, but I really, really like you, and just the thought of you being with someone else . . . well, it bothers me, a lot.”
Talk about turning the tables. I now realize how he feels every time I mention him wanting Courtney over me. I make a silent promise to myself to bury down my feelings where she is concerned. I don’t like how this feels so I can imagine it hurts him just as much.
I squeeze his hand in return, wanting so badly to take back my joke. “It was a stupid thing to say, Bryan. I really didn’t mean anything by it. Believe me. You have nothing to worry about. I’m all yours.” With pleading eyes and a face contorted in concern, I hope that my soft apology is enough to erase my words.
“Good. Because I really don’t want to share,” he adds as he pops another bite of bread into his mouth. If I’m not mistaken, there’s a hint of seduction in the way he licks the drop of olive oil from the corner of his mouth.
I don’t want to ruin the evening any more than I already have, so rather than say something about Courtney—about worrying that she’s going to come and take him away from me�
�I smile brightly, take a bite of bread, and say, “Good. So since we’ve got the ‘no sharing’ thing out of the way, why don’t you tell me more about that goal you scored, which was amazing by the way.”
When his face lights with pride at his accomplishment, I feel like the crisis has been averted. Who knew he would be so possessive. I mean honestly, I’ve got him, why on Earth would I look anywhere else.
As he’s giving me the play-by-play run down of the final minutes of the game, Bella brings us over two huge plates of her world-famous lasagna. “Enjoy,” she says before she walks away.
I thought it was lasagna, but I was wrong. It is heaven—pure heaven on a plate covered in cheese and sauce and goodness. Bryan must agree because he’s done with more than half of his in no time flat.
“So, who’s Emmie?” I ask around a forkful of sauce-covered yumminess. Bryan and his mom mentioned the name earlier and it wasn’t one that I had heard before. Maybe it’s his dog or something like that.
Bryan stiffens slightly and wipes his mouth. Suddenly, he looks uncomfortable, and for the second time tonight, I feel like I’ve stepped on a landmine.
“Emmie’s my sister,” he says quickly, but I can’t help but wonder why his body language changed when I mentioned her name.
“Oh, that’s right. I remember you telling me.” When we came here for the first time, he told me he had a sister but then never brought her up again. “How come you never talk about her though?” My curiosity is piqued now. The only reason I can think of for him not talking about her is that they don’t get along.
“It’s complicated.” He’s being short and dismissive—so uncharacteristically Bryan.
I laugh a little because it’s the only reaction I can come up with. “What do you mean ‘complicated’? She’s your sister.”
He settles back in his chair and sighs. Seemingly sorting through his thoughts to find the right words, I wonder “how difficult can this really be?”
Bryan is lost in some kind of internal debate. Trying to calm whatever fears he apparently has, I say, “Bryan, talk to me. Please.”
It’s only his sister. It’s not like he’s confessing some kind of secret human-trafficking operation where he’s the ringleader. Oh no, what if he runs a puppy mill or something horrible like that?
Geez, at least I hope not.
He’s still not talking, so I try to back track a little. Starting with something small, I ask, “How old is she?”
Baby steps. Let’s see if he can do baby steps.
Leaning forward on his elbows once again, he rests is chin on his folded hands. “She’s twelve,” he says rather quickly, but his eyes are still on mine.
“Does she play soccer too?” Seems like a logical question. What little sister doesn’t idolize her super-star brother?
“No.” His dismissiveness has changed to sadness. I see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. I reach for his hand once again because he seems more at ease when there’s that physical connection between us. It’s been there from the start, and ever since I came around and let it progress, he always seems more at ease, more himself, when we’re touching.
“What is it, Bryan? Whatever it is, you can talk to me. I only ask because I want to know you better. But, for whatever reason, if you don’t want to share, I won’t push you.” I only hope he can hear the concern in my voice. I’m really not trying to pry; I just want him to open up.
At my softly spoken words, he relaxes and starts talking. “You’re not pushing me, Melanie. I guess I’m just a little protective, that’s all.”
That last piece of information doesn’t surprise me at all. It’s one of the things I love about him.
Do I love him?
No. It’s too soon.
At least I think it’s too soon. I’ve never been here before. Maybe it is love.
Refocusing my attention back to Bryan, I say, “Well, then she’s very lucky to have such an amazing big brother.” I pause briefly to gently squeeze his hand once more as I wait for his response. “I don’t have any siblings so I’d love to learn about yours. Tell me more about her, please.”
His lips pull up at the corners and I catch a glimpse of his white teeth through his small smile. He obviously adores her, and suddenly, I am dying to know everything about this little girl who clearly has a very special spot in his heart.
“Her name is Emerson, but we call her Emmie. She’s the happiest little girl I’ve ever known.” His face is glowing with love for his little sister. It’s cute, really. I’ve always wanted a sibling. Even though I’ll always consider Maddy my sister, there’s a part of me that really missed having someone else around when I was younger.
“So why didn’t she come with your parents? Did she have an event for school or something like that and couldn’t make the flight? I would have loved to meet her.” Come to think of it, the handful of times I’ve been in his dorm, I didn’t see a picture of her anywhere. Do guys even put up pictures of their family? Either way, it’s weird that he obviously loves her very much, but there isn’t a trace of her anywhere in his daily life. I try not to be upset that he hasn’t said anything about her to me so far. I mean, we’ve only been together for a month so it’s not like we know every single little detail about each other. Distracted by my own thoughts, I forget that I’ve even asked him a question. His words bring my attention, quite abruptly, back to the conversation.
“She has Downs Syndrome,” he blurts out and I’m a bit surprised. Not that she has Downs, but because his words are very abrupt and out of the blue. But suddenly, I know why he’s so protective, why he doesn’t talk about her much. Though, judging by the way his eyes are shining and his voice is wobbling, I can tell that his not talking about her isn’t out of shame. It’s out of his need to keep her protected.
My brows furrow together in concern and disbelief. “Why do you think that will matter to me? There’s no need to keep me from knowing that.” I only hope that my words help him understand how I feel. Even if she wasn’t his sister, she’s just a little girl, but I know all too well, having been the ‘heavy kid’ growing up, just how hurtful kids can be.
“She cared,” Bryan’s barely whispered words break though my painful memories of being made fun of when I was younger.
“Who?”
He sighs and scrubs his hand over his face. “Courtney cared.”
I feel like I’ve just been punched in the gut. I thought there was no way I could hate her even more than I already do, but I was definitely wrong.
“What . . . I mean . . . I don’t get it. What did she say?” I know I sound like an idiot, but I can’t wrap my head around how she could have made an issue about this.
Are people really that shallow?
The waitress chooses this moment to walk over and hand us our bill, essentially halting the conversation. And then just as soon as the waitress walks away, Bella comes to our table.
Ripping the bill in half, she says, “No paying tonight. It’s a special night.” She winks over at me on that last line and I adore her even more than I already did. Bryan needed some recognition tonight and I’m glad she, and hopefully I, was able to give it to him. “Besides,” she adds almost shyly, “I might need you to come back this week. The webpage thingy that you set up for me is, ummm, how do you say . . .”
Bryan chuckles at her silliness and finishes her sentence. “Is it crashing, Bella?”
“Yeah, that’s it. Crashing. Can you come by this week to fix it?” she asks hopefully.
Bryan stands from his chair, kisses her on the cheek and says, “Sure thing. I’ll be back on Monday.” Extending his hand to me, he helps me out of my chair and wraps his arm around my shoulder.
Bella walks us to the door and tells us to have a good night. When we get outside, the cool autumn air breezes around us and a shiver creeps across my skin. Draping his jacket over my shoulders, Bryan says, “I’ll tell you all about Emmie and Courtney on the way to the party, okay?”
I nod,
not because I have nothing to say, but because I have so much to say that I don’t want to scare him away.
After he closes my door, I watch him walk to his side and slide into his seat. Playing around with the knobs on the heater and the radio, I can tell that he’s just avoiding the conversation. So I place my hand on top of his, and cup his cheek with my other hand. I don’t say anything, but when I lean forward and skim my lips across his, he knows what I’m trying to say.
Grazing his knuckles across my cheek, he looks into my eyes so deeply that I think he might see straight through me.
Part of me knows that he already does.
When his lips collide with mine, well, I think we might just melt together as one. I’m in a complete state of bliss. His hand in my hair, his lips tentatively skimming mine at first, his tongue dancing wildly in my mouth—it all makes my pulse skitter, my heart race, my body tingle. It’s a kiss filled with need, and dare I say, love.
It’s too soon for that. So, no, I don’t say it, but I know that my kiss conveys it. His sure as hell does.
Breathless and wide-eyed, we pull away from each other. He looks like I feel, and it’s nice to know that I have the same effect on him that he has on me. But, getting me all hot and bothered isn’t going to get him out of having to talk.
After another minute of staring at me blankly, I prompt him to finally start talking. “You can kiss me like that again, but you’re still going to have to talk. So why don’t you talk now and we’ll kiss all you want later.” I wink and arch a playful eyebrow at him to which his only response is a loud chuckle. At least, he seems a bit more at ease now that he’s kissed the life out of me.
Lord knows if we didn’t have somewhere to be, there would have been a lot more than kissing going on!
Settling back in his seat, he turns down the radio and stares out into the dark evening sky spreading before us. “Courtney and I were together last year for a few months. I liked her enough to stay with her, but it wasn’t love. Definitely not love. I didn’t think she was horrible or anything, so I stayed with her to see how things would turn out,” he huffs sarcastically at that thought. I move closer to him, well, as close as my seat will allow me, and hold his hand. He starts running his thumb over my knuckles as he continues talking.
The Love Series Complete Box Set Page 57