The Truth Between Us (Bentwood Book 2)

by Tammy L. Gray

  “Okay… fine.” He stood and straightened his jacket. “So when I come back into town, are we going to have to start all over again?”

  “Only if you corner me or do something cheesy like change your relationship status on Facebook.” Her tone was far lighter than the boulder she felt in her stomach.

  “Like I have time for social media. I barely have time to call you. Which I will do more often now that I see how easily you spook.” Aiden lifted his left wrist, his gold Rolex reflecting the LED lights overhead. “Speaking of which, I better let you get ready for your meeting.”

  “Yes. Thank you.” The reminder snapped her back into work mode, something she hadn’t been able to achieve all day. “I’ll walk you out.”

  “No need. I plan to get very familiar with this place.” His promise brought a nudge of uneasiness, but she wouldn’t allow herself any second guessing.

  “And next time,” he continued. “I’ll get on your calendar first so you have no excuse.” His tone was teasing, but with an underlying edge.

  Aiden wouldn’t be put off forever.

  Avoidance was no longer an option. She’d made her choice and it was time to stop striking the matchsticks. Next time Sean tried to bully his way back into her heart, she’d put the past to rest for good.

  Chapter 20

  Sean stood on the sidelines of the fifty-yard line, the euphoria of grass under his feet, metal stands filled with eager spectators, and the smell of aggression and hard work as thrilling as it was in college. It was nearly the end of his second week on the job and the culmination of their all-ages summer football camp.

  He’d finally had the opportunity to see his new team in action. To watch their character as they mentored young boys who worshiped them. Two guys had stood out, both collegiate level athletes and both competing for the position of starting quarterback. One had the legs and a quick short pass, the other could throw a sixty yarder like a pro. Sean’s predecessor had switched them out play after play during the last season, a tactic Sean highly disagreed with. There needed to be one leader, one alpha on the field. But he also had no intention of benching his second best player.

  “Well, what do you think?” The question came from Houston Kent, the Eagle’s head coach and his new boss.

  “I think we need to move Zane to running back and play the wildcard more often.” He turned to watch Houston’s reaction, not surprised in the least that he’d paused to consider the suggestion.

  Sean had known within five minutes of talking with the guy that they’d be a good partnership. Houston was demanding, held high standards, but wasn’t a control nut. He let the coordinators manage their boys and promised to let Sean call the plays once he learned their offense. “I can teach Philip how to use his legs, but I can’t teach Zane to throw a rocket 50 yards down the field. That’s just God-given talent.”

  “Zane’s dad is our school’s biggest donor. He’s adamant that his boy plays quarterback.”

  Sean glanced over his shoulder to the moderately filled stands. Gaggles of parents watched their boys, some chatting among themselves, but most analyzing with a keen interest. It had surprised him how involved they all were, but then again, he’d never coached at a private school before. “Is that your way of telling me my hands are tied?” He’d known the administration didn’t cater to winning, but he’d thought it was because they wanted to mentor the kids, not placate heavy pockets.

  “Not tied, but wrapped in rope. You can free them, but it’s going to take some finesse.” He crossed his arms against his chest and hollered at the kids to stop for a water break. “Good thing you have all summer to figure it out.”

  At least he wasn’t saying no.

  “Any advice?”

  “Convince the kid and you might convince the dad. But you should know they both suffer from the same ailment.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Pride, entitlement, arrogance. Pick your pleasure.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve dealt with those personalities.” He could name three. April’s father, her mother, and their irritating lap dog, Aiden. Problem was, his track record wasn’t so great against those types.

  “That may be true, but I doubt your job depended on the money they provide.”

  Sean clamped his mouth shut. Houston had no idea. “So tell me, can I expect an audience this size at every practice? Or is their interest just a summer camp thing?”

  Houston chuckled and scanned the stands. “The female participation has definitely grown this week. Word of warning—dating a team mom can get dicey.”

  “What?” he burst out, half insulted. “How old do you think I am?”

  “I don’t know your preferences.”

  “Not cougars.” He thought of April’s annoyed expression the night before. He’d broken through her wall. Had felt it the minute she allowed herself to feel something. A few more nudges, and he knew he’d get her to admit she still loved him. “Besides… I’ve been off the market since I was old enough to know the difference between girls and boys. My type consists of only one person.”

  “When I first moved here, I had three women stick their phone numbers in my pockets.” That information didn’t surprise Sean in the least. Houston’s parents were certainly prophetic when they gave him his name. The guy was as Texan as they came with a deep southern drawl, an impractical love for cowboy boots, and the kind of good ole boy handsomeness that had women of all ages flocking to football games. “And since you’re fresh blood, I imagine it will get worse before it gets better. For your sake, I hope your girl isn’t the jealous type.”

  “April knows where she stands, trust me.” More than that. Being with her was like riding the outer bands of a hurricane. There was no time to look anywhere else.

  “Journey’s friend, April? Dark hair, petite, eyes like kryptonite?”

  “That’s her.”

  “Now it’s all making sense.” Houston outright laughed. “She’s a fireball. I heard she practically cut Stewart’s tongue out when he hit on her last fall.”

  “Stewart asked her out?” Sean hated the churning ball forming in his stomach when he glanced at the man in question. Medium build, mild disposition, liked to clap his hands a lot when yelling at his boys. There’d be a snowstorm in Hades before April gave that guy the time of day. And yet knowing she’d gone almost a year without his ring on her finger, likely getting propositioned by balding coaches and arrogant lawyers, brought an all too familiar taste of bile.

  “Oh, I get it. It’s you who’s the jealous one. Well, don’t get any ideas. Stewart’s a good guy and considering the hammering he’s taken since, I don’t think he has any plans to try again.”

  Okay, that did make him feel a little better. Still, it wasn’t about jealousy. It was more knowing that she had an entire life for a year that he knew nothing about. Still knew nothing about, minus a few hours when he could get her to cave. It wasn’t good enough. It had never been good enough.

  “I don’t get jealous.” Sean grinned, cocky as he used to be in college. “I win.” He slapped Houston on the back and jogged onto the field.

  Raising his hands, he motioned for Zane to throw him the ball. The kid pulled back and the pigskin spiraled through the air a foot higher than was catchable for the normal wide receiver. Luckily for him, Sean was not a normal wide receiver and he hauled it in. “Four lineman on you and that ball would have sailed even further out of reach.”

  Zane jerked off his helmet and tossed it on the ground. “That’s ’cause you’ve been on my case all day, coach. My arm’s tired.”

  “We’ve barely thrown for an hour. How do you expect to go four quarters?” Sean ground his teeth together but somehow managed to keep his temper while he swept Zane’s helmet from the turf. “I see this helmet on the ground again and you won’t get it back. You understand me?” He offered it to the hot-headed teenager and waited.

  A small measure of contrition appeared in his narrowed brown eyes. “Yes,
sir.”

  “Good. Now, let’s try for twenty yards again. This time with your feet,” he demanded, his last word choked out by a sharp sting in his chest. He shook it off and pressed against the tightness in his lungs, massaging the pain away. He didn’t have time to get sick. He had a fiancé to win back, a stubborn athlete to convert, and a boss to impress.

  He coughed and the tightness eased a little. It was just a cold. Nothing a few over the counter drugs couldn’t fix.

  Zane lined up behind center and Sean lowered his body, acting as the sole defensive line. The ball snapped and Zane was gone before Sean had taken two steps forward. Twenty yards, heck, the kid could have crossed fifty without anyone on his heels.

  Sean waved him back and Zane jogged forward, that arrogant strut back in his steps.

  “Nice job.” He slapped the kid’s helmet. “With speed like that, who needs an arm?” He could see Zane’s confusion, but only hollered at him to do it again.

  This was just one more challenge on the list of many.

  Sean rapped on April’s door, a box of microwave popcorn under one arm, the first season of Doctor Who under the other. It annoyed him to have to knock, but he’d accepted that baby steps were required if he wanted her to trust him again.

  She sighed when she saw him, and not the kind that was welcoming. “You can’t keep coming over here any time you like.”

  “Journey said I could use your DVD player,” he said, though they both knew her roommate had nothing to do with it. “Mr. Trapp doesn’t have one.”

  She released the door with an annoyed push. “Journey is at Ty’s, and I have work to do.” She sank into the couch and tucked her feet into the cushions. In front of her, the coffee table was covered with files and her laptop.

  Sean dropped the snacks on the dining table. “It’s nine o’clock at night.”

  “Which means nothing when one of our partners threw a curveball at us today.” She rubbed circles on her temples and he had to shove his hands in his pockets not to do it for her. “I thought Cassandra was going to clobber him. Needless to say, she is determined to see her husband this weekend, so here I am.”

  Hair piled on her head and clad in pajama bottoms and a tank top, April looked more beautiful to him in that moment than the thousands that had come before. He missed these quiet times with her. The kisses that came effortlessly, the way she’d snuggle against him when she got cold.

  “I can help.”

  “No you can’t. There’s this pesky little thing called attorney-client privilege. Besides, I’m almost finished.” She paused for a brief moment and scrutinized him. “You look ragged.”

  “Thanks. You look beautiful.”

  “I mean it. What happened today?” She closed her laptop and gathered up the files in one big stack.

  Sean fell into the adjacent chair. The one he resented because his favorite recliner used to take up the same space. “I found out that money is power. Even in high school football.”

  “And this is a surprise to you?”

  He shrugged. “Not a surprise, but a disappointment. For some reason I thought Journey’s school was above such nonsense.”

  “How much research did you do before taking this position?”

  None, unless making sure it was in Bentwood actually counted. “I had other things on my mind.”

  “I imagine you did.” April leaned back onto the cushions not at all flattered by his admission. “But if you’d paused for one second instead of leaping, you would have learned that they’ve been through four offensive coordinators in the last three years. They’ve also lost two athletic directors in the same time period, both quitting during football season.”

  “Do I detect worry in your voice?” Sean leaned forward, placed his elbows on his knees. “Is it possible that you might feel some measure of protectiveness when it comes to my well-being?”

  “The protectiveness is for Journey. You’re linked to her now. You tick people off and it comes right back to her.”

  He hadn’t thought about that aspect. “I can be pragmatic.”

  She practically snorted her disbelief.

  “I can,” he insisted. “Look at us. We’ve come a long way in a few weeks.”

  She suddenly went quiet, her eyes on him, offering something he couldn’t yet define but knew he needed to figure it out. Then just as quick, she gathered up her things and stood. “I’ll work in my room. Just keep the volume down.”

  “Or you could finish up later and watch one episode with me.” His chest caught again and he swallowed to avoid coughing. “Come on, admit it, last night felt good, didn’t it? Can you even imagine what two nights of fun might do for you?”

  Her shoulders fell like the world had landed on them. “You can’t recreate the past, Sean. You don’t get to have a do over simply because you want to.” The statement wasn’t said with aggression, but sadness.

  He felt it too, the loss of what they’d had. His desperation to reclaim it before it disappeared completely. He stood, countering her compassion with his own. “I’m not the only one who’s ragged.” He carefully brushed his knuckles along her cheek. “I hate seeing you this way, Jelly Bean. So alone. You need people. Positive interactions. Fun. You can’t stay in this cocoon forever. I won’t let you.”

  The air turned in a snap, her head jerking away from his touch. “When are you going to hear me? You don’t get to speak into my life anymore.” She tucked her files in tighter, anger radiating like a halo. “You act like nothing big took place, like you didn’t spend months plotting to send my uncle to jail.”

  “I didn’t send him to jail,” he growled. Why couldn’t she understand or even try for a second to see his side? “I got him rehab and probation. I saved his life.”

  “It’s not just about him!” she hollered, her anger a living breathing thing between them. “You could have told me and you didn’t. You could have included me and you didn’t. You act like we’re some great couple, but it was never equal. You made me trust you and when it mattered, you refused to trust me.” She spun and marched down the hallway to her bedroom.

  No way. He wasn’t going to let her run off. Not when they’d come this far.

  He stormed after her and gripped her doorframe, collecting himself as he watched her toss her work on her desk and grab a pair of running shoes.

  Making his voice as calm as he could muster, he said, “I’ve apologized for not telling you. I don’t know what more I can do.”

  She paused halfway through tying up her laces and looked up at him. “No, you haven’t apologized. You’ve justified. You’ve explained your side. You’ve tossed away any of my objections. But no, you haven’t apologized.”

  He opened his mouth to argue but realized she was right. He hadn’t apologized. “That’s because I stand by what I did.”

  “As do I.” Her fingers moved so quickly she had to retie the laces twice, but finally secured her shoes and stood. “I was wrong before. We can’t be friends.”

  That infuriating, cold, calculated voice was back and it took every bit of his willpower not to slam his fist into the drywall. Instead, he filled the doorway, refusing to move, even when she stood in front of him with her arms folded.

  “Let me out.”

  “No. Not until you tell me what’s really going on.”

  “I just did.”

  “No you didn’t. You rehashed an argument we’ve already had just so you wouldn’t have to deal with what you’re actually feeling.” He examined her closer, so close she turned away from him. “Something happened today. You’re… different. Guarded again.”

  “Stop it.”

  “Stop what? Stop forcing you to admit your real feelings? Stop not letting you hide away in this shell of a person? No. I’m not going to stop it. Look at you. You’re flushed and agitated, practically trembling with fight or flight. The only time you get this way is with your parents.” Her immediate flinch confirmed his suspicions. “What did they do?”

  S
he closed her eyes, her jaw clenched so tight it had to be giving her a headache. “Stop acting like you know me.”

  “I do know you.”

  She exhaled but it did nothing to end the rigid line in her back. “Not anymore.”

  “Yes, I do,” he whispered, moving toward her, just as he would a skittish puppy. “I know that you crease your brow when you get irritated. I know your hands tremble when you feel trapped. I know every one of your smiles.” She hadn’t moved despite his closing the gap between them, and he took it as an invitation to continue. “I know you love stronger than most and you hurt in silence.” He ran a hand over her head until it landed on exposed skin. So soft and delicate, yet so incredibly strong. “I know I promised to love you forever and I meant it.” He leaned over, the smell of her hair intoxicating. “I know you still love me too.” Her hands moved, first to his waist and then to his chest.

  “Sean.”

  No. He didn’t want her to speak. Didn’t want to break the spell he was under.

  “Sean,” she said louder this time. “You have to stop.” He realized her hands weren’t caressing but pushing at his chest. “My parents didn’t do anything.”

  He clutched her fingers, held them in place. “Then what?”

  “I’ve moved on. Started a new relationship.”

  The trance disappeared. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Exactly what I said. I’m seeing someone else now, which is why your coming here makes me uncomfortable.”

  His paralyzed shock gave her two seconds to get past him. He shook himself out of the daze and followed her again. “You’re seeing someone? As in dating?” With each question the absurdity made him oscillate between irritation and humor. She must really be desperate to go so far as to create a fake relationship.

  “Yes,” she tossed over her shoulder.

  “And who is this mystery man? Someone Journey has no knowledge of. Someone who obviously doesn’t know where you live because none of us, including Chester, has ever seen him.”