Made to be His (The Archer Family #1)

by Allison Gatta

  He didn't answer her, but let the silence hang over them. He didn't have an answer for her, or for anything. He didn't know what he was going to do or how he was going to get past all of these people. He was supposed to be here for Andy, and for Matt too, but it was all too much.

  In his mind, all he could hear was the beeping of the hospital machines or the whirring of the mechanical beds...

  Until Andy's soft sniffle beside him.

  It was so faint that at first he thought it had been imaginary, but then it happened again and he turned to see the streaks of moonlit water sliding down her face.

  "What if he never plays again?” she asked quietly. "What if it's all over for him?"

  God, if he only had an answer for that.

  But he told her the same thing he'd been telling himself for the past year. "It'll be fine."

  She nodded, slowly at first, and then faster. "You're right."

  It was the moment of truth. He could feel it rearing up. Fight or Flight.

  But looking at her, her face streaked with tears, he knew there wasn't really a choice anymore. Maybe she didn't realize it now, but whatever happened with Matt, she would blame Logan for it one day. They both would. It would just take a while for them to see it. It was too fresh, too raw right now, but when they stepped back they'd be able to see the truth.

  And it would be better if they both simply faced it now and got it over with.

  "Let's go," she said and started off in the opposite direction.

  "You should see your brother. I don't want to intrude on family matters," he said, unmoving.

  "What do you mean? Don't be ridiculous. Come on." She stopped in her tracks and swiveled to face him.

  He shook his head slowly. "No. I'm not coming"

  A lump rose in his throat and he swallowed it whole. She wouldn't understand if he explained. She'd argue with him and fight. That's what Andy did.

  And if he let her, she would convince him. He couldn't let it come to that.

  "He's your best friend. What do you mean you're not coming?" Her heels clicked as she stalked toward him, but he stepped back before he could smell her flowery perfume again. They were all traps, and he had to avoid them. This was about doing what was right.

  "What I said," he answered.

  She tilted her head to the side, her eyebrows pulled together so she looked somewhere between angry and confused. "What's all this about?"

  "Look, I already explained myself. I'll call you." He opened the car door, but she reached out and slammed it behind him.

  "You'll call me?" Gone was the furrowed confusion. No, now it was full-on anger, and there was only one place she could direct it.

  Not that he could blame her.

  With any luck, she'd hate him so much by the end of the night that he wouldn't have to face her again. All harm, all foul. Then he wouldn't have to be reminded of what a fuck up he was every time he looked at her.

  "Logan," she prompted when he still hadn't spoken. "Tell me what this is about. Is this about the accident? I told you—"

  Fuck. He wasn't about to have this conversation. Not again.

  There was only one way to get her off of his track, but it would make him hate himself more than she already did.

  As far as he could tell, though, there was no other choice. The ugliness of it burned in his stomach and he glanced at the crowd of reporters still hanging by the doors. "It has nothing to do with the accident. Don't be stupid."

  "Last time I checked, only one of us was being stupid," she said. "If it's not about the accident, then what gives? I want you to come with me. I n—"

  No. If he let her say it, he wouldn't be able to go through with this. She couldn't tell him she needed him.

  So he cut her off with the worst, most awful thing he could think of. "I can't be seen with you."

  Bile burned in the back of his throat and he stared at the crowd of reporters again. Maybe if he kept his attention on the group, she'd walk away without saying anything and this horrible conversation would all be over. He could drive away and not have to see her, not have to watch her cry.

  He should have known life didn't work like that, though.

  "What?" She choked on the word, obviously trying to hold back tears.

  With a deep breath, he forced himself to look at her. If he tried hard enough, maybe he could make his face expressionless and stony. Maybe he could do one thing right by the Archer family. He could leave them the hell alone.

  "Don't make me say it again, Andy."

  "No, say it. I want you to." Her voice broke on the last word, and though tears fell from her eyes as she blinked them back, she still faced him with defiance.

  "I have a new image now. Thanks to you." He set his jaw and went on, "It would ruin everything if I was seen with someone like you."

  He was the worst person to have ever walked the earth.

  "You're lying," she choked.

  "Why would I lie?" He raised an eyebrow, willing himself to keep talking. He had to finish the conversation, to say something he could never come back from. "I've already fucked you, what else would I need now?"

  He was worse than scum. Worse than world-ending disease or the apocalypse. From tonight until the rest of time, he would hate himself for this, but he had to remember it was the only way. Andy would never be happy in the end unless she was miserable right now.

  "Fuck. You." The tears were rolling freely down her cheeks, but her lips were still pressed together in a hard line of determination.

  He swallowed hard and hoped she hadn't noticed. Luckily, there wasn't enough time for her to have paid it any mind. After spitting at his feet, she turned on her heel and stalked toward the hospital, never daring to glance behind her as she cut through the reporters and disappeared behind the revolving door.

  This was the last time he'd see Andy Archer.

  He'd never see Matt Archer again.

  He climbed into his car and backed out, then drove the streets of San Diego until the yellow lines on the road blurred in front of him and he no longer had a sense of direction. He couldn't go into the stadium. That place was tainted with the memory of her. And of Matt. If anything, the place was a tribute to where he'd ruined the two best relationships of his life.

  So with nowhere else to go, he headed home and settled in for a very long future of self-loathing.

  * * *

  Saturday mornings were the worst.

  Not so much because of the onslaught of early morning sunshine or the fact that she had no excuse to avoid cleaning her apartment, but mostly because it was the one day she had to be alone. And lately, being alone sucked worse than just about everything else.

  Still, Andy rolled from her cocoon of sheets and trudged toward her closet, surveying her welcoming pile of sweats before finally turning toward her stack of dresses. She'd worn them all now. Over and over again, though she couldn't say why.

  She knew that the other clothes would be more comfortable, that if she just slid an over-sized T-shirt on, her life could go on like she'd never gotten involved with Logan in the first place. But rather than comforting her, the idea made her sad. Like if she slipped back into that life, she'd lose a part of herself in the process.

  A part of him.

  She couldn't think about all that right now. She'd spent a good two weeks avoiding the topic and she'd be dammed if she had to curl back up into her bed and dream of Logan Grant. He was gone. Gone for good. She'd lived without him before, she could do it again.

  All she had to do was work past the crushing sadness that weighed down her every step. That couldn't be so hard.

  Down the hall, her doorbell rang and she tossed the red bandage dress on without a second thought, eager to discover the distraction.

  But when she opened the door, she found Logan Grant staring at her.

  Kind of.

  The magazine cover they'd shot had apparently hit the stands today and Shay stood in her doorframe, holding out the magazine for Andy t
o survey.

  "Did you see this yet?" Shay asked and clicked into the foyer on her five-inch heels.

  The short answer was no. She'd known it was out. Hell, the magazine had even called and notified her. It was the biggest feat she'd been able to pull for their agency so far, and still she couldn't bring herself to buy the damned thing.

  "Want some coffee?" Andy deflected and led her friend through the hallway toward the kitchen.

  Shay plopped into her regular seat at the rickety wooden table and slapped the magazine down in front of her. "You did a hell of a job. Really. The whole shoot is stunning. It changes his whole image with the..."

  Apparently coming to her senses at last, Shay trailed off and Andy turned to offer her an understanding smile. It made sense, wanting to discuss the shoot that would put their agency on the map. She'd seen it headline on the sports network the day before and if her memory served her right, at least twenty new clients had referenced it in their consultations.

  It was exciting.

  Or, at least, it should have been.

  "It's okay," Andy said and switched on the coffee maker. "Really."

  "You keep saying that, but I'm not sure I believe you." Shay stood and grabbed two white mugs from the creaky cabinets.

  "What is there to be upset about? I've got a better image, a stronger company—"

  "And no Logan," Shay finished.

  Andy had avoided the name for two weeks. Even in her private thoughts, she'd taken to calling him "He-who-must-not-be-loved." But hearing it aloud? It was like a bee sting to the heart.

  When she didn't reply, Shay went on, "You know, your brother hasn't heard from him in weeks. He called him about the cover and got his voicemail."

  The last drops of coffee dripped into the carafe and Andy wasted no time in pouring. Anything to distract from the world's most painful conversation. "He's probably busy. Lots of press and—"

  "Yeah, I'm sure that's what it is." Shay took her cup and headed back to the table, sipping as she went.

  "What do you want from me here, Shay?" Andy sighed. What was she supposed to say? That she was hurting? That she was weak? That she'd spent every night thinking about him and what he was doing? Too bad; those thoughts weren't for public consumption.

  "You let him get away," Shay said. It wasn't an accusation. If anything, it sounded more like a plea. Like she was trying to convey something that Andy wasn't capable of hearing.

  Well, her friend was wrong there, too. Andy knew, deep in her heart, that she could have changed things. She could find him today and try to make it right. But what would that solve? What would that change?

  Absolutely nothing. So she sat in her house, missing him and wanting him, secure in the knowledge that it was better that way. And that was, by far, the very worst part.

  "You don't understand." Andy sprinkled some sugar into her cup, unwilling to look her friend in the eye.

  "Try to explain. I just want to help." The words were quiet, but they were sincere.

  It would hurt to tell her, to say the words aloud. But maybe, just maybe, if Andy said them aloud, it would help to clean the wound. Like cauterizing the gaping hole in her heart.

  Leaving her coffee behind, Andy walked toward the table and dropped into the seat beside her friend.

  For a long moment, she was silent, trying to figure out the best way to explain. But when she lighted upon the cover again, with lots of beautiful women draped around the man she loved, it finally came it her.

  Pointing at the image, Andy said, "This is what he is, see? These women and the fame. I mean, look at him. That's the kind of woman he belongs with."

  "Andy, you're beauti—"

  She waved her friend off and continued. "It’s not about whether or not I'm pretty. That doesn't really matter, you know? The fact is that I don't know how to be a woman. Like, a real woman with makeup and dresses and shit. I'm not Florence Nightingale or Carol Brady. My dad raised me to be Cal Ripken Jr., not to be married to him."

  Shay's eyebrows drew together and she took a long sip on her mug before she spoke again. "That's what this is about?"

  Andy nodded. "He might think it’s cute or funny now. I'm sure anybody would. It's different. But in the future? He's going to want a girl on his arm who can walk in heels. He deserves someone who can take care of him. Not someone who can play catch."

  "Oh, Andy, girl," Shay sighed. “You’ve got it so twisted.”

  “No, I’ve finally gotten it straightened out.” Andy took a triumphant swig of her coffee. Shay would never understand this kind of thing. She was tailor-made for the trophy wife lifestyle. That was fine. Matt hadn’t understood, either. They didn’t need to.

  They weren’t the ones who had to lay awake at night thinking over what Logan had said to her. They weren’t the ones who had to live with the fact that he’d only wanted her after he’d made her more palatable. They weren’t the ones crying themselves to sleep knowing that even that hadn’t been good enough to make him stay.

  So they could give her every pep talk in the world. None of that would make even the slightest bit of difference because not an ounce of it would change the facts.

  Logan Grant would never love her.

  After Shay finished her coffee, she headed for the door. Apparently, she knew a lost cause when she saw one, but she at least had the decency to make small talk and pretend like the silent war waging between them wasn’t going on.

  When the door clicked shut behind her, Andy heaved a sigh of relief, but within seconds her friend opened the door again.

  “I forgot something. I can’t go to the gala tonight.” Shay bit her bottom lip, a motion only ever used to beg Andy’s forgiveness.

  It was truly amazing how quickly every cell in Andy’s body could convert from relief to dread. She couldn’t make up for Shay this time, not tonight. She knew how vital this event was. It was make or break for their company.

  Andy couldn’t do that social stuff. She couldn’t land the big clients. She couldn’t mingle.

  She couldn’t see Logan again.

  “You what?” Andy spluttered.

  “I’m really sorry, but Greg flew into town to surprise me—“

  Andy held up a palm. Sure, she would have preferred Shay go to the party instead of spending more time with her on-again, off-again sleaze bucket of a boyfriend, but they both knew that Shay didn’t owe Andy an explanation. In truth, Shay deserved more time off than she had, and she’d been carrying the weight of the company for far too long. Andy could spend one night filling in.

  “It’s fine. Have fun,” she said.

  Shay squealed her thanks and bounded out the door again. Once it was closed, Andy leaned against it and banged the back of her head on the oak for good measure.

  Yep, filling in for Shay for one night was no big deal at all.

  Unless the way her heart shriveled and withered at the thought of it counted for something.

  Chapter 10

  There was no end to the awfulness of hospitals. The sanitized smell of the air, the almost certain likelihood of seeing an old person's exposed behind, and the florescent lighting alone was enough to deter any sane person from so much as attempting to cross the threshold.

  Or at least that was what Logan had told himself the last time Matt was here.

  He'd stayed away, waited until all the press and the doctors had faded to finally go see his friend, and even then it had been a struggle.

  Now? Well, now he had more than one reason for avoiding Matt. Not only had he ruined his life, but he'd wrecked his sister's heart, too. Like he was a one man wrecking crew sent to make the Archer family miserable.

  It might have been easier to stay away again, but not even the empty stadium could calm his nerves now. He had to do something, say something to make things right. Going to Andy wasn't an option, not after all that had happened. Besides, if he saw her now, he might lose his determination. Might backslide into that same temptation that had led him astray the first tim
e.

  No, there was only one person who could help him.

  Logan squared his shoulders and marched through Matt's ward. They'd put him in the same room as before, or at least that's what he'd been told when he got there. He'd expected the door to be closed. To have a moment of silence to collect himself and try to decide how to explain himself.

  If there were words for that, though, he probably would have found them in the million times he'd thought this over before. The door was wide open and before he'd said a word, Matt had spotted him and ushered him inside.

  "I was wondering if you'd show this time," Matt said. The words were friendly, but they stung all the same. There was no getting out of this. Logan ran a hand over the back of his neck and crossed the threshold, stopping short at the foot of the hospital bed.

  "Sweet digs," Logan said.

  "Check it." Matt adjusted the bed with his good hand, filling the room with the sounds of mechanical whirrs until he was finally upright. "I'm like an X-man or something."

  Logan tried for his most casual smile, but based on his friend's reaction, it had looked just as half-hearted as it had felt.

  "Ah," Matt said, "why don't you take a seat?"

  "Sure." Logan settled into the cheap, plastic-coated armchair beside the bed and his friend swung his feet over the side of the bed to face him.

  "Your bed doesn't have a feature for that?" Logan asked.

  "You know, I keep asking the nurses to teach me how the bed works, but for some reason, they keep getting insulted."

  Matt shot his best game-winning smile, but when Logan didn't laugh in return, the grin quickly faded.

  "You and Andy are a couple of regular crack-ups lately," Matt said. "I swear, the two of you together may put me in stitches."

  Sarcasm dripped from his words, but Logan shrugged it off. This was always how Matt operated, from the first second they'd met. There was nobody on earth less fit for serious conversation.

  "I'm sure Andy is okay." Logan offered. If she was upset, she would get over it soon. It was all for the best. Better to hurt a little now than hurt a lot later. That's what he kept telling himself, at least.