Resting his hands on his hips, he looked away at the vending machine, ignoring the way his heart jumped into his throat at the mention of her name. He didn’t want to hear that. He didn’t want her feeling what he was feeling. She had done nothing to deserve that.
“Want to talk about it?” she asked.
“Not really, no.” Because there wasn’t anything to talk about. He screwed up again. Just like everybody anticipated.
She was quiet a moment before giving him a big hug. “You come over this week and we’ll celebrate, alright?” She squeezed him tight. “With great news like this, attention must be paid.”
“Oh yeah?” he snickered. “You really think that husband of yours will want to celebrate his royal pain in the ass staying around?”
Chuckling, she gave him a small smile. “Absolutely. It’s why he did what he did.”
What?
Tilting his head, his smiled slipped and he looked back at her. “What are you talking about?”
Blinking back at him, her mouth opened before closing again. “Oh. I just assumed Emme mentioned it.”
“Mentioned what?”
“Oh, nothing. Forget I said anything,” she said, shrugging turning to leave before he grabbed her wrist.
“Spill it.”
“It’s not important, Shay. Minor detail, really.”
“Now, Liv.”
Rolling her eyes, she sighed. “Last week Jax offered a deal so that corporate could cover your contract.”
Jax?
“And how did he do that exactly?” he asked folding his arms.
“Emme told him that the only way the deal would work is if Jax decreased his salary cap to create the space that they needed inside the budget.”
“Jesus Christ, Liv.”
“What? Jax and I would be dammed if we lost you over something as silly as money. He took the deal without blinking. His only contingency was that you would be franchised so we wouldn’t have to worry about this again.”
Jax had done that? For him? He wanted to be pissed and tell them there was no way he was signing that contract under those terms, but he also wanted to stay. With his teammates. And with the best fucking friends any man had the right to ask for.
“Don’t worry about it,” Liv said, pulling him for another hug. “It’s what family does.” As if it was no big deal. As if they were discussing a few dollars over a few million. Taking his hands, she stood taller, the two of them the same height. “I know you,” she studied him. “And I’m not sure what happened between you and Whitney, but I want you to promise me right now that you won’t be a martyr for those two girls.”
Grinding his teeth, he snickered. “I’m nobody’s hero, Liv.”
Least of all Whitney’s.
“You’re not the villain either, Shay.”
How did she do that? Get into his head like that? And how the hell did Jax get away with anything?
“You have an awfully bad habit of undervaluing what you mean to people. What you have to offer others. And I want you to promise me that you won’t convince yourself that those girls are better off without you.”
He couldn’t promise that because he wasn’t even sure what he had to offer Whitney anymore. Who he could be for both her and Quinn. And much like everything else in his life, it always seemed best if he just stayed the hell out of the way. Patting his cheek gently she said goodbye, leaving the smell of expensive perfume in her wake.
Watching her go, he looked behind him at the sound of Myles’s voice. “My man.” Myles beamed, pulling him into a hug before slapping his back hard. “I’m really glad I can be on the field protecting your ass instead of bulldozing it if you went to San Fran.”
“You wouldn’t be able to catch me anyways you fat fuck.” Both laughing, they sat on the bench and were quiet a moment. Trying to digest the last hour, he looked over at Myles noticing he was in a visibly better mood. “You seem more loosened up.”
“Got my workout in. Got my best friend staying on my team and got my woman moving in with me this weekend,” he smiled, revealing his alarmingly white teeth. “Life is grand, my friend. Simply grand.”
Raising a brow, he didn’t know why he was surprised that Myles had finally convinced Charlotte to move in with him, but he was happy for him. He’d had a front row seat to watch the meanest looking dude he had ever seen be brought to his knees by a foul-mouthed, ridiculously talented, pint size blonde and he was happy for him. He deserved it.
“Did you tell Whitney the good news, yet?” Myles nudged his arm and he was surprised that he didn’t know. He assumed she would have talked to Charlotte.
“Ah, no, actually.” He felt like such a fuck up. But then again, that’s what everyone had waited for. For him to fuck up. And he hadn’t disappointed.
“What did you do?” Myles shifted his eyes sideways and he couldn’t tell if his best friend was surprised or not.
“I just don’t think I can be the man she needs,” Shay shrugged because it was the truth. She and Quinn deserved more. They deserved stability and a man with a nine to five who was home on the weekends. Not one charting off to other cities six months out of the year. They needed a man who could promise them perfect holidays at home with family and friends every single year. A man who could take care of them more than he’d proven to.
“Well why don’t you let her be the judge of that?” Myles asked as if it was all so simple. But that was the problem. He had let her be the judge and the verdict was out. She didn’t need him. He’d had something perfect and pure and he destroyed it. He knew she had trust issues, who wouldn’t after what she had been put through? She had flat out told him that he scared her and he had given her a reason to be.
“Well, I will tell you this much brother,” Myles sighed, his eyes serious. “If you let those girls go, you’ll end up regretting it for the rest of your life.”
Looking back at his best friend he knew he was right. There wasn’t an hour that passed that he hadn’t thought of them and the what-ifs had begun to roll in at night as well. Living the hell he had lived with his brother all over again. Only this time, it felt as if he had lost so much more. Grabbing the back of his neck, Myles drew him in, his eyes boring into his. “And for what it’s worth. I think you are exactly what they need.”
Standing in the long driveway looking up at her parents’ house, Whitney smoothed out her sky blue day dress before doing the same to Quinn. She’d almost forgotten that she had promised her mama that they would come for dinner. Truth be told, she didn’t want to be here, but she had promised. Not that being back in Charleston was any easier. Watching Myles move Charlotte’s things out of the condo all week in between his practices, she wanted to ask about Shay. Wanted to know when he was leaving Charleston. The thought of him moving to another state without seeing him again, left her chest tight. The days were painful and the nights dragged out. She wondered when she would be able to fall asleep again without silently crying. She had finally broken down and told Charlotte the entire story over one too many Moscow mules. After spewing off a tremendous amount of cuss words over Adam reappearing, she earned a solid fifteen dollars for her cussin’ jar before Charlotte told her that she was being unreasonable with Shay.
Am I being unreasonable?
She had fallen in love with Shay to the point of physical pain. She loved him for both the man he chose to show the world, but mostly for the man that he hid from the world. A man she had seen slowly making his way out of himself over the past few weeks. Quinn’s squeals bringing her back, she smoothed out her flower headband as Quinn made a fierce attack to try to take it off, kicking off her shoes simultaneously. “I know baby girl, but you can take all this nonsense off when we leave,” she promised, hating that she felt the need to get Quinn and herself all dolled up only to be met with inevitable criticism from her mama. Making her way slowly up the driveway, she wondered what it would be today. Her hair? Her weight? Quinn’s outfit? Checking her watch, her stomach dropped.
<
br /> 5:25.
The Mavericks were in the middle of a game and down by a few points the last she had checked on the radio. Shay, however, was having a great game and she hoped he would keep it up. The last two games had been difficult to watch. Not only had she felt terrible about their losses, but also seeing Shay’s face with every catch he jumped for in the end zone. Catching that ball with those hands.
And boy did she remember those hands.
Patrick’s surgery was first thing tomorrow morning and she wondered how Shay was coping. He’d been uneasy about his papa taking on such a risky operation, she knew that. Could see it the night they had laid in bed together. And how she remembered that night. Taking a deep breath she stuffed thoughts of Shay down deep. Well, as deep as they would go as she made her way up the steps onto the large Victorian veranda. Her parents’ wrap-around porch had always been her favorite part of the home. So many days she had spent on the white porch playing tea party with lemonade or dominos with Georgie. Finding a large petunia on a bush beside the railing, she leaned in to smell it as Quinn’s hands wrapped around the flower. Smiling, she brought the flower closer to Quinn’s nose. Her eyes lighting up, the sun began to soften as she kissed the top of her baby girl’s head. It felt kind of nice bringing Quinn to the home where she had grown up. Her parents’ home was gorgeous and peaceful and she had spent so many years imagining her own children running along their property in the springtime. Envisioned her parents enjoying their grandbabies while her and Georgie’s babies ran around making lifetime memories like she had with Charlotte. Her parents allowing them to run around and create mischief like Fiona had with the kids. But that wasn’t her parents. And it certainly was not her mama.
“Whitney?”
Looking up, she saw her mama opening the screen door and it may have been one of only a handful of times that she had ever seen her mama open a door for a guest. That was something she left to the housekeeper. And yes, she was a guest tonight because that’s exactly how her parents treated her walking back into her childhood home ever since she left Louisiana. A guest.
“Hello, Mama.”
Taking the rest of the steps, Whitney walked through the door. Looking around behind her, presumably to make sure that nobody saw her actually stop to smell the roses, her mama closed the door behind them. For as charming and exquisite as the front porch was, the rest of the home wasn’t warm or inviting at all. But then again, it never had been. Her mama had lovely and expensive taste, which was perfectly fine, but not a single item that rested inside their home had anything from their childhood. Interior decorations changed every decade and the only pictures she had of either herself or Georgie were the oil paintings that she had been forced to sit still for over three hours when she had been seven years old. Nothing like the school photos and goofy, toothless candids of Shay and his brothers growing up that littered Fiona’s home.
“Well, don’t you look,” Lillian smiled tightly, searching for a word. Her mama had matured over the past year. Even through the Botox she could see her age beginning to shine through. Nobody else would notice it though. Lillian Scott would convince people that she was aging gracefully. She’d see to it. “Nice.”
Well that hadn’t taken very long.
“Oh, Whitney you knew y’all were coming for dinner, didn’t you think well enough to comb Quinn’s hair?” She moved her tiny, heavily decorated hands over Quinn’s wild hair brushing it out.
“I did,” she said gently, wondering if it was too late to just run. To take Quinn and just go far, far away from here. “I did comb it.”
“Your father has been waiting,” her mama said, moving them through the living room into the dining room. Swallowing hard, she clenched Quinn closer into her hip, her baby’s drool dripping down the front of her. She was so angry at her papa. He had promised Adam a better position at the firm if he managed to persuade her to come home. Surely he would be ashamed of how he behaved. Gripping Quinn even closer, she realized this was the first time her papa was meeting her baby girl. He had sent two dozen roses to the hospital the day after Quinn was born, but taking the trip down with her mama a few weeks ago had conflicted with his golf classic game.
“Oliver, dear. Whitney has arrived,” her mama announced, standing beside her, a tight smile on her face.
Looking up from the newspaper, he swirled a glass of scotch in his hand. Her father was an immaculate man. Always combed and tucked in neatly, his grey hair the only indication that he was an older gentleman. Behind the thin-rimmed glasses and the distinguished sharp cheekbones rested something that money could not buy. A goofy smile that appeared as he slowly closed the newspaper. “Well, well, don’t you ladies look lovely.”
She didn’t know why she was so agitated at the sight of him, but she was. Standing up straighter, she looked down at Quinn. She felt like she was on display. That they were sizing her up and judging her and her daughter. Such a noticeable difference from the easy acceptance from Shay’s family.
Stop doing that.
She needed to stop comparing her family to Shay’s. There was no comparison. His family was warm and hers was cold. His welcomed her with open arms and referred to her as our Whitney and her family disapproved of everything she had ever done. “Papa,” she cleared her throat. Why was she so nervous? “This is a,” she fought for words, “this is Quinn. Your granddaughter.” She looked up at him again and he gave her a small kiss on her cheek before resting a hand on Quinn’s head.
“She’s beautiful,” he made up his mind, “thank God she doesn’t look like him.”
Her papa was a decent man. He’d worked hard for his family and although the firm had always come first, he wasn’t an awful father. Far from it, but he liked control. He thrived on it and the good Lord had forgotten to bless him with warmness. But seeing him interact with his only grandchild she swore she was seeing him soften a bit. Or maybe she was just seeing what she wanted to see. She had done that a lot over the past few years. Believed what she had so desperately wanted to believe. Forcing herself to see the good in Adam despite all the ways he had continued hurt her. More painfully, when she believed that Shay loved her and Quinn.
“Yes,” Whitney whispered thinking of Adam. And her papa’s role. “He paid me a visit last week,” she added quietly, nearly shuddering at the memory. Oliver looked up from Quinn and she stared at her papa. Why would he do that to her? Why would he try and force her to do something that she hated? Something that she didn’t love. She was happy in Charleston. She had a prospering career, incredible friends and had fallen in love. The last thought nearly destroying her.
Standing taller, her mama chimed quickly. “Dinner is ready.”
Sitting down at the dining room table, a white, wooden, frilly high chair rested at the end of the table. It was too big for Quinn as she strapped her into the seat, much to her baby girl’s dismay.
“All my stars!”
Looking over her shoulder at Georgie, Whitney smiled. She and her baby sister shared two qualities. Their sweet tooth and their wide smiles. That was all. Straightening, she drew Georgie into a hug. She looked primed and buttoned up as usual, her dark hair pulled back into a tight bun. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered against Georgie’s ear. Even though her sister hadn’t been there for her. At all. She still missed her.
Agreeing, Georgie pulled away quickly. She wasn’t one for emotions or sentiments, just another stark difference between the two of them, but that had never stopped her from trying. “This must be little Miss Quinn.” Sliding into the chair, Georgie looked across the small table of the high chair. “Well hello, honey pie.” Moving her small hand across Quinn’s chunky fingers, they examined each other. “I see you have your mama’s hair,” Georgie smiled. “And nose. And eyes.”
Clearing her throat, her mama waited impatiently as Georgie looked up at Whitney, rolling her eyes. Moving to her own seat, Whitney sat down pressing the napkin over her lap repeatedly. Her hands were shaking and her nerves were alr
eady shot. She felt so uncomfortable and so out of place as the newest housekeeper laid bowls of fried okra and platters of shellfish gazpacho and tea-brined chicken on the table. They served themselves quietly and began eating, but she didn’t have much of an appetite.
“Whitney, how is Charlotte doing?” Oliver asked, serving himself a spoonful of okra.
“Hmm,” she hummed, looking up at her papa as Georgie’s phone chirped.
“I asked how Charlotte is doing?” he repeated.
“Oh, she is wonderful,” Whitney smiled softly. “Her fashion line is doing amazin’ and she is actually moving in with her boyfriend, Myles.” Gosh she was so happy for them. She still got the chills when she thought about witnessing Charlotte and Myles’s reconciliation.
“Oh,” he forced a smile, taking a sip of tea. “How lovely for her.” Her papa didn’t care for Charlotte. Nobody in her immediate family did. Which had always bothered her. Just because Charlotte spoke her mind and didn’t allow anybody to boss her around, they had made her an outcast early in life. Holding her tongue, she mulled a piece of chicken in her mouth as her father checked his cellphone again.
“Whitney, for the life of me I cannot understand why you put those tawdry headbands on Quinn,” Lillian shook her head pointing her fork at Quinn. “Would it kill you to put a bonnet on your baby and maybe some appropriate shoes?”
And here we go.
“I mean I can’t even find an appropriate photograph of her to show to the ladies at the club.” And that’s what it always came down to for her mama. Her image. The family’s image. The status, the money and the position. She’d managed to find a picture of Quinn and take it back to the ladies at the club. She’d yuck up their insincere compliments about how she looked too young to be a grandmaw. She’d fabricate stories about spending time and spoiling Quinn, never mentioning that it took her over forty-eight hours to arrive at the hospital where she had only stayed for a little over an hour. Leaving out the part where she hadn’t called to check up on them, only to chat about her social calendar and Georgie’s accomplishments. But it was alright. She had Charlotte. And Liv and Magda. And Ross and Myles. Jax and Chelsea.
Hail Mary (The Mavericks Series) Page 28