by Cari Quinn
She’d go with door number one. But looking at Bryan, she had a feeling he’d go with door number two. He’d been alone for so long. Maybe it was easier to stay that way than hear someone say they didn’t want him.
They took the long way through town, looping up around the water tower where years ago Vic had so infamously been caught making out with the most popular guy in high school.
“I’m sure Vic’s told you”—he cleared his throat—“about my mother. Where she is.”
Stunned that he’d go there with her, she tried not to outwardly react. He was notoriously private, to the point that Vic had lamented more than once that he was an island surrounded by a moat of people. That he would even broach this subject with her so soon after they’d reconnected was huge.
“Yes,” she said carefully. “She’s told me a bit about the group home. She didn’t say much, and I didn’t press her. It’s your business.”
“You’ve been part of us for a lot of years. It’s your business, too.”
The quiet certitude in his tone stole her breath. Part of us. Not part of Vic. Us. “It is if you want to share it with me. I’d never pry—”
“I went to see her today, for the first time since she left,” he said. “Vic doesn’t know yet, and I don’t intend to tell her until she returns from her honeymoon. She deserves a break from all of this.” He flexed his hand on the wheel. “It’s past time I do my share.”
Jill let out the breath she’d been holding. Maybe that explained part of why he hadn’t wanted to be alone tonight. That he’d chosen her to spend his hours with her, and confide in her, meant so much.
“How was she?”
How are you, she wanted to ask. But she didn’t, because this moment between them was so tenuous that she was afraid she’d drive him away if she asked him to offer anything more.
“Different.”
“How?” She quickly added, “You don’t have to tell me. I don’t know how to do this, so if I say the wrong thing, it’s not because I don’t care, it’s because I—”
Because I care too much.
He said, “Because you didn’t have a mother who bagged on you because she wanted to find herself? Then expected you to be by her side when she realized she’d left pieces behind?” Idling at a stop sign, he held up a hand. “No, that’s not true. She doesn’t expect me to be there. She didn’t even recognize me at first. After we talked for a few minutes, she came around. She’s on a new med for her bipolar, and the staff at the group home said it hasn’t agreed with her. But Christ, can you imagine what it’s like to try to figure out what to say to get your own mother to recognize you?”
“No.” She cupped her other hand on top of his. “I can’t.”
He sent her a sideways grin that didn’t come close to reaching his eyes. “You hit the fucking jackpot of mothers.”
“Yeah, I did. God, I miss her.” She fought not to let the emotion overwhelm her. Two years had passed, and she still ached for her mama every single day. “She was the most special person I’ve ever known. She tried her hardest to make sure I never wanted for anything. But my dad…” She blew out a breath and stared through the windshield. “We weren’t enough for him. He needed the adulation of the crowds. And he wasn’t even famous, not like you.” Once the words were out, she bit her lip. “I didn’t mean that like it sounded.”
“When you’re not comfortable letting in the people who matter, it’s easy to fill the hole with strangers.” He turned his hand over to grip hers. “Your dad’s choices didn’t have anything to do with you or your mom. You can do everything right and it may not be enough. That’s on him, baby. Don’t ever blame yourself.”
“Maybe people like that can’t change,” she whispered. “They’ll always prefer strangers to real family.”
His pause told her plenty, like all the pauses that had come before. “Hard to say,” he said finally, “if they don’t take the risk.”
“They have to want to. It’s hard to give up adulation. It’s like a drug.”
“It is. Even harder to deal with the isolation that comes with it. The more hits you take, the harder being alone becomes.”
She stroked his knuckles. “Your mom’s sick, Bry. She left you because of that. Not because you and Vic and Melly aren’t amazing. She couldn’t see what she was leaving behind.”
“I know. I think I’m starting to know. But what does it say about me that I’m finding it so hard to forgive her?”
“That you were too young to fight back when she hurt you. That’s all it says.”
He smoothed his thumb over the back of her hand and drove on, not speaking again until they turned onto the block with his old house. Her family home stood next door to his with that big ol’ For Sale sign out front. Depressed market and all that. Someday perhaps it would sell, and she could mentally pack the rest of those memories away.
“Fuck,” Bryan said, swerving to the curb in front of his old place. “What’s he doing here now?”
Lost in her reverie, she blinked at the lights burning in the windows of Bryan’s family home. Then she took in the shiny vehicle in the driveway with rental car plates. “Is that—”
“Yes.” He clenched his jaw. “It’s my father.”
Chapter Eight
He turned off the truck, wishing he could drop Jill at her place before he had to do this. Talking to her about his dad was one thing, but Jesus, he didn’t want her to witness exactly how fucked up their relationship was.
“How long’s it been?” Jill asked, church-soft.
He knew exactly what she meant. “Since we’ve seen each other? Years. We exchange Christmas cards, and he’ll call on my birthday sometimes, or vice versa.” Even that contact was becoming rarer.
“Why don’t I go in and get the outfit?” She reached for the door handle. “He knows me. We’ll make nicey-nice, then you and I can go back to my apartment and make…well, not nicey-nice.”
Somehow she managed to make him smile in spite of it all. Such was the wonder of Jillian St. John. “Uniform, baby. Stroke my ego while you aren’t stroking anything else.”
She reached across the console and gave his cock a swift rub through his jeans, immediately waking it up to half-mast. Just what he needed to have while he talked to his dad. “I can get you started out here. I won’t be long.”
He groaned. “Neither would I if we start like that.” Though it pained him, he gripped her wrist and lifted it to his mouth for a quick kiss. “Thank you, but this is for me to do.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“You’re a terrific brother, Bry. Don’t ever forget that. You invited your father back for Vic’s wedding despite what it cost you.” When he would’ve argued, she extricated herself from his hold and pressed a finger to his lips. “You’re so willing to look for the bad in yourself. Lucky for both of us, I see so much good.”
He gripped her hand. “That’s a reflection of you, not me. You’re the good. I’m the one who bails when the going gets tough, just like my mom.” He shut his eyes. “Your mother would hate me for ever disappointing you.” Almost as much as I would hate myself.
She didn’t say anything for a moment. “I guess that means you better not do that, huh?”
If only it was that simple. “It’s inevitable.”
“You know what’s inevitable? That you owe me a damn good showing in that football outfit if you expect me to slip into what I bought for you.” Despite the lightness of her voice, he heard the strain behind it. Strain he’d put there.
There would be plenty of other nights to rehash and recriminate. Not tonight.
Swallowing hard, he kissed her fingertip. “How’d I stumble on to you?”
“More luck,” she said lightly, slipping away to open her door. “Yes, I’m coming with you. Resistance is futile.” She shut the door on his grin.
They walked into a house that hadn’t changed much over the years. Faded wallpaper yellowed with time and cigar smoke m
atched the beat-up furniture and shabby carpeting. The pictures of him, Melly, and Vic from grade school still hung on the living room wall, their bright faces almost painful to look at. So much hope had lived behind those eyes. So much expectation.
Vic had found her happy ending with Cory. It still shocked the hell out of Bryan that she’d chosen the uptight suit to start a family with, but she was so happy, he couldn’t argue with the results. Melly was focused on her growing chain of frozen-yogurt shops and claimed she didn’t care about relationships. As for him…
Yeah, he wasn’t going there.
“Who’s there?” His father’s voice echoed from the second floor before footsteps clattered down the stairs. “Jill?” he asked, confused. Then his voice softened. “Bryan.”
Bryan turned around and tried not to reel back at the shock. This wizened, balding, dim-eyed man in front of him was his father. Only his tired smile seemed familiar. “Hey Dad,” he said.
All this time, he’d convinced himself his father was living it up in Vegas, spending too much money at the casino, maybe trading girlfriends every week. That was the tale his father had tried to pass off, anyway. He was having a great time enjoying his early retirement. Whooping it up on a nightly basis.
His appearance told a different story, one with a much more depressing ending.
After all these years, he still hadn’t gotten over Bryan’s mother.
“Son.” His father pulled him into a fierce hug, holding on for longer than Bryan had expected. At a loss for words, he patted his dad’s back, his eyes connecting with Jill’s over his shoulder. Hers were wet.
God, she was crying for him. For him.
She pointed at the door, as if asking whether she should go. He shook his head. Every muscle in his body would lock up if she left. Her presence seemed vital for him to get through this. She nodded and stepped back into the foyer, giving them their space but staying close.
Later, he would have to thank her. For everything.
“I didn’t expect you to be here so soon,” Bryan said, moving back. “The wedding’s not for another week.”
“I don’t want Vicky to know I’m here yet. I’d like it to be a surprise, if that’s okay.”
“It’s okay.” More than. He took it as a positive sign that his father was trying again.
“Since I had some time, I figured I’d get some chores done beforehand. Things I’ve been putting off.” The elder Townsend stepped back and rubbed his grizzled jaw. “How is she?”
For a moment, Bryan thought he was asking about his mother. But no, he didn’t know Bryan was seeing her again. He didn’t even know she was back in the area. To Bryan’s knowledge, his parents hadn’t been in contact since she’d left the family years ago.
“Vic’s doing really well.”
“She’s happy?”
Bryan had to grin. “Disgustingly so.”
“That Santangelo boy, is he treating my girl right?”
“I think so, but you could try asking her that yourself.”
His father crossed the room and lowered himself to the arm of the dingy old couch. “She doesn’t want to talk to her old man. Hell, Bryan, she probably won’t even let me walk her down the aisle.”
“Oh, I think you might be surprised. She misses you.”
His father lifted his head, the shrewd green eyes so like his own narrowing. “What about you? Have you missed me?”
Living life in the public eye for so long had taught Bryan how to lie. Ready answers just sprang onto his lips. No, I’m not dating her. Yes, everything’s great with the team. I haven’t heard any rumors.
But for once, the truth was all he could come up with. “Yes. I’ve missed you, Dad.”
His father smiled—genuinely smiled—and some of the years fell away from his face like stone crumbling to reveal the treasure beneath. That treasure was the man he’d admired so much growing up. The one who’d tossed a football with him for hours, long after his arms must’ve hurt. The one who’d asked him to be strong for his sisters after their mother left.
“I’ve missed you, too, son.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve been following your career. You’ve done so well for yourself.”
“Thanks. I’m a free agent now, though.”
The smile fell away from his father’s face. “I knew the decline in your stats would become a problem. Dammit, Bryan.”
Bryan’s spine stiffened. “My stats went down due to my knee injury. I had surgery—”
“How are your prospects? Better than they seemed at the end of last season, I hope. You’ll end up back on the field somewhere, won’t you?”
The way he said somewhere made it seem like there had to be some team willing to deal with Bryan and all of his issues. Christ. Went to show how stupid he was to think maybe his pop cared more about him than being the father of a star in the NFL.
“That’s the plan,” Bryan said under his breath.
It was the only plan, and this conversation proved why he needed to get back to his life in Maryland as fast as possible. The bucolic home scene he’d been building up in his mind in Haven didn’t exist. His father would leave soon enough, but before he did, he would make plenty of offhand comments to keep Bryan in the spot he belonged.
Football star. Nothing more, nothing less.
It wouldn’t hurt so much if Bryan wasn’t so sure that his father was right. And that left him few options.
If his team didn’t want him, he’d find another team. He’d do whatever necessary, because that life was all he knew. All he was.
“Well then.” His dad shook his head, evidently willing to let the subject drop. “I’m cleaning out your old room and boxing your things up. Since you’re here, you could go through them.” He turned toward Jill and smiled with all of the warmth he hadn’t shown Bryan once the subject of football had reared its head. “You’re all grown up now, aren’t you, Jillian?”
Jill smiled shyly and stepped forward, her hands clasped in front of her. “Sir, it’s been a long time.”
The obvious affection on her face stirred something deep in Bryan’s chest. He’d never known another woman like her. She was so warm and eager to love, everything from abandoned kittens to the distant fathers of her best friend.
She even cared about him, for fuck’s sake, and that was a goddamn miracle after how dismissive he’d been to her over the years. He’d shut her out of his life deliberately, not wanting to get too close for fear of exactly this happening. She was like a fire that sucked all the oxygen out of the room.
And then when she glanced at him, her blue eyes dark with understanding, all that air came rushing back, expanding his ribcage until he thought his lungs would burst.
Three hours later, after sorting through boxes of old clothes and news clippings and football trophies, they left hand-in-hand. Bryan had tucked his old football jersey and pants under his arm, and Jill carried something for Vic. He hadn’t explained Jill’s presence to his pop, and he hadn’t asked. If his father thought it strange that they walked out with their hands linked, he didn’t say it.
No one figured he would stick around long enough to matter to anyone in this town, his father included. He was the love ’em and leave ’em type, so what did it matter that he only seemed to get that in return?
Jill might be different. But he wouldn’t make her promises he was doomed to break. Five dates was all he had to give. And after tonight, they’d be one more date closer to the end of their arrangement.
If he were a better man, he’d end it now, before she could get used to having him around. But he needed to hold her and touch her and kiss her, needed to forget all of this bullshit for a few hours.
“You okay?” Jill asked tentatively once they were driving away from the curb. “I know your father was kind of hard on you about the football thing. He’s rigid about it, isn’t he?”
Surprised, Bryan glanced her way. “You noticed?”
“I notice more than you think. If I thought my intercedi
ng on your behalf was what you wanted, I would have. But I’m trying to offer you my support, not make more drama.” She laid her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m fine.” Or he would be. Eventually.
“So maybe I should offer you a different sort of support.” She licked her lips, and his groin tightened. “Whatever you need.”
Damn, he needed her. Just her.
Bryan clenched the wheel, his gaze drifting to the old uniform she held, the knees still dark with grass stains. “I forgot my cleats.”
Her laughter acted as a balm over wounds he hadn’t realized were open and bleeding. “That’s okay. You can go barefoot.”
“I might not fit into that shirt.”
Her laughter faded. “That’s okay,” she echoed softly. “You can leave it off.”
“I’m absolutely positive my dick won’t fit in those pants.”
“Then you’re definitely going to wear them, because I want a picture of you ripping the seams. You know, like the Hulk from the waist down.” Grinning, she slid across the seat and into the circle of his waiting arm. He tugged her against his chest and kissed the top of her head.
God, she felt good there. Right. As if her head had been made to fit in that crook between his shoulder and neck. Haven was just somewhere to rest his head in the downtime, but when he was with her, the place felt like home.
And those were exactly the kinds of thoughts he wasn’t allowed to have.
“Thank you,” he said once he could speak.
“No, thank you. You’re the one about to give me one hell of a peep show—”
“I mean it. Thank you for spending the night with me, even though I disrupted your work and pissed you off when it came to the good doctor. Thank you for helping me deal with my dad.” He exhaled. “Thank you for being so fucking perfect in about fifteen different ways I don’t even have the words to express.”
She reached down for his belt, sliding her thumb along the area just above his navel, eliciting a shudder he couldn’t hold back. “I’m afraid I can’t allow your sweet talk to sway me, Mr. Townsend. You came to me for care, and that’s my job.”