by Tijan
“Cassie. Frank.”
He scrawled over the piece of paper, writing a few words, and handed it over.
She read it, a pleased smile lighting her face up. “Thank you. It’s been a pleasure to meet you.” Her eyes fell to mine, and some of that smile dimmed. “Not under the best circumstances, but you know. And congratulations on your win tonight, the two touchdowns. We’re lucky to have gotten you, I can say that much. If we didn’t have you and Doubard, we’d be hurting this year.” She went to the door. “You think we can do it? Make it to the Super Bowl?”
Stone didn’t follow, just watched her, and I could sense his irritation rising.
He didn’t respond, and clueing in, the woman’s cheeks reddened. “Right. Well. If anything happens, don’t hesitate to call. Get well, Miss.”
I didn’t respond.
Stone didn’t respond.
She wasn’t expecting acknowledgement and left, closing the door behind her. Stone let out a guttural curse before walking forward and hitting the locks. He bypassed me, going back to the kitchen area, and a few minutes later I heard a soft beeping sound.
Then he came back and regarded me. “I see you had an eventful day.”
I closed my eyes. “Sorry.”
“No.” He shook his head, running a tired hand over his face. “It’s my fault. I should’ve had someone here when you woke up, or at least told you about the security system. About shit my pants when one of the trainers brought my phone over, telling me it wouldn’t stop ringing. Had calls from your college, and then the security system.”
“Sorry.”
That’s all I had in me, just that one word.
He was watching me, reading me. “You woke up today, huh?”
I knew he wasn’t asking about the actual physical act of waking, more like the mental version. “Yeah. I woke up.” My voice trembled.
“Right. Okay.” He pulled a chair forward, sitting and resting his elbows on his knees. He was sitting, facing me. “What do you want to do?”
“How much were the funeral costs?”
“What?”
“My parents died.” All three of them now. “There was an accident. The car would’ve needed to be towed. The funeral costs. Coffins. The burial sites. Headstones. You said you covered my costs, but what about those?”
“I meant everything.” A soft curse under his breath. “Dusty, you don’t need to worry about that.”
I looked at him, really looked at him. So much was weighing on him. He’d taken all of my shit on without a second thought to what exactly that entailed. Why? We hated each other.
“Why are you doing all this for me?”
His head lifted. The torment there cleared into wonder. His eyebrows dipped together. “Because I considered you family at one point. And I liked your mom.”
My mom. Right.
That was why.
Some of the confusion cleared. “I need to know how much everything costs, Stone. I have to know.”
He was saying one thing, but he wasn’t being honest. I could feel it. It was driving me nuts.
“Your aunt took care of it all.”
Another lie.
“Bullshit.” I knew there’d been a contentious relationship between Gail and her sister. She had called twice asking Gail for money, and I knew Gail turned her down both times. “Did my aunt even travel for the funeral?”
I was watching him, and I saw it. His nostrils flared. Guilt flared before he swallowed, dipping his head a little. “No. She was contacted by your parents’ lawyer, said she wasn’t in the will, and when asked about Jared, she couldn’t have given him away quicker than she did.”
That sounded right this time.
“Who took care of everything? I know you’re lying.”
He hesitated.
“TELL ME!”
His chair jerked back, but a deep wariness just passed over his face. “My parents did. My father, to be exact.”
Fuck. It was worse than I thought.
“Why?”
“Because I made him. Because I threatened to never come home again unless he manned up and righted every fucking wrong he ever did to your family. My dad took care of mostly everything, and no, you will never know how much any of it cost. He also took care of your schooling for the next two years. Your campus got a sizeable donation in your name, along with a check for your schooling costs.” He shoved out of his chair, his eyes flashing. His face hard. “Consider it done, and honestly, I don’t want to hear another goddamn word about it again. It’s the least my family could do.”
His phone started blaring, but he looked down on me. “And with all that said, I’m going to make myself something to eat, head into the theater room, and put on something mindless to watch. You’re welcome to join me, or not. I don’t give a shit, just don’t leave, because in your state, you’d probably walk into oncoming traffic.”
He wasn’t wrong.
But it would’ve been on accident, not intentional, and admitting that much to myself, I found my room and curled under the covers again.
I’d call Jared in the morning.
Chapter Seventeen
Stone was shirtless.
Stone was only wearing sweatpants.
Those sweatpants were hanging seriously low over his hips.
And, he had a lot of bruises on his back. I was guessing they were from his game.
Oh, and he was making breakfast when I walked into the kitchen.
He stopped, his coffee cup in hand, the other manning the toaster, and glanced at the clock. “It’s five in the morning.”
“You say that like I’ve not been awake most of the night.” I grunted, sliding onto one of those many barstools of his. He was clear across the counter and the island. I noted, “Kitchens shouldn’t be this big. Who else lives here? What’s the need for this much size?”
He stared at me, his mouth flattening. “Good morning to you, too.”
Another grunt from me. “Sorry. I’m a bit bitchy.”
He hid a grin. “That a new development or…?”
“Fuck off.”
He didn’t hide the grin this time, laughing as the toast popped up. “You want one?”
I considered it. I did, but I shook my head. “Coffee?”
He paused, his eyes narrowed on me. “When’s the last time you ate?”
“When did that feeding tube get pulled out of me?”
He swore under his breath, buttering one of the pieces of toast for me. Placing it in front of me with a firm thud, he leaned over the counter. “Eat. Now.”
“I’m not hung—”
“I don’t give a shit.” He pointed at it. “You don’t eat, you’ll end up right back in the hospital. I, for one, am sick of picking you up there. The nurses got more forward the second time I was there.”
Now I hid a grin. “The hardships of being a football god.”
And it was his turn to grunt, finishing the other toast for himself. “There’s the perks, but trust me, there’s cons, too. A shitty pic of you is on Page Nine’s website today.”
“You’re lying.” But I was pulling my phone out, typing in Page Nine, and then swearing. He hadn’t minced words. It was a shitty pic of me. I was pale. My hair a mess. I groaned. “You look like you’re picking up a drug rehab reject.”
The headlines weren’t far off. Mysterious New Love Interest for Reeves? And the article went on to detail how he’d been a regular visitor at the hospital, spotted several times going in and out. Half my face was hidden by his truck, but enough they caught enough of me where it made me think hospitals needed to offer a spa day to patients before allowing them to be released.
“I’m surprised they didn’t get the other shot. That would’ve been better.”
He poured my coffee, took it to his fridge and glanced back. “You still like milk in your coffee?”
“I never drank coffee when we were friends. How’d you know that?”
“I might’ve had a conversation on
e time with your mom in the grocery store. I was picking up flowers for graduation and she was there.” He lifted his milk from his fridge. “Buying this for you.”
I—I swallowed over a lump. “You have a lot of secret conversations with my mom?” I took the cup as he handed it over, then watched as he poured some green juice in a glass and placed it right next to me.
He pointed at it. “You can’t have coffee if you don’t drink that, too, and maybe a couple more. Random times I saw her. We liked to buy groceries at the same time.”
“Saturday morning.”
He added, “Nine in the morning.” Leaning his back against his counter, he sipped his own coffee. “Course once I realized that was her usual time, I might’ve made sure to always have to pick something up for my mom during that time.”
I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. “It’s like you had a secret affair with my mom, hopefully in a platonic sense.”
He barked out a laugh, his hands going to his shoulders, making his entire chest area bulge up.
Jesus. Those biceps. They flexed just as I was watching them.
Then I stepped into the equivalent of a cold shower as he said, “Your lawyer is coming this morning.”
Right.
Because for thirty minutes there, the image of a shirtless Stone had distracted me from what plagued me all night. “Right.”
“You want me here?”
“Yes.” I said it almost before he finished. I not only wanted him here, I needed him here, too.
I was past trying to be prideful.
A soft chuckle from him. “Can I make more food for you?”
I shook my head. I still hadn’t started on the toast. “Why are you up this early? Isn’t the day after your games for resting?”
“Technically, but I usually get up and head to the gym. I gotta run into the stadium today, too. And speaking of,” He moved to his phone, hitting the screen and scrolling. “Your lawyer will be here around nine this morning, so I’ll plan on going in after that.” He paused, tilting his head to the side. “You want to come with me?”
“Where?”
“To the stadium. I just gotta go in and talk to my coach, then do a few other things. I won’t be there long.”
“Um…”
He cleared his throat, setting his coffee aside and coming to lean over the counter across from me. He was almost staring down at me. “Let me put it this way, both times I’ve left you, I’ve not enjoyed the myriad of phone calls I got later. You’re coming with me where I know you probably won’t get into trouble.”
It was yes, sir. Right away, sir. No, I can’t talk back, sir.
I lifted up the toast, nibbling at the end. My stomach was growling and protesting, but I took a few bites. I knew there’d be a time I’d look back at this day with fondness, where I was trying to make myself eat. Not about all the other stuff, all the reasons why I didn’t feel like eating to begin with.
Except maybe a shirtless Stone, or a stern-talking Stone. I’d make sure to memorialize those moments.
Good Lord. I had a concussion. I was finding Stone attractive. I pondered that, and no. Not at all related. Finding someone attractive and being attracted to someone were totally different. I could recognize Mia and Savannah from the house were both gorgeous, but I didn’t want to jump either of them. It was the same deal here.
And speaking of my housemates, “How long am I staying here?”
“You’re here until I deem you’re able to function in the real world again.”
He was saying that all imposing-like. Two days ago I would’ve considered his face smirking and arrogant and pompous, but now I saw the thinly veiled concern.
He stood and straightened away from the counter. His eyes flashed, dropping from my face. “Listen. You have a concussion, and that shit’s no joke. That means ensuring you have the least amount of stimuli as possible. After today, no homework. No phone. Try to keep the television stuff to a minimum. I feel bad that I even invited you to watch a movie with me last night. Just until you’re okay to travel, stay put. I already cleared everything with your job and your college. They all know the deal. If you want it, they said you could take a leave of absence for the first semester and there’d be no penalty or impact to your tuition or your GPA.”
My heart sank. I’d already lost so much, I couldn’t lose a semester of school.
“No way.”
I’d have to restart all over again. I could only handle so many restarts. “I can’t do that.”
“You lost your father. You lost your stepmother. I know you still haven’t called your stepbrother yet. You are barely managing to get through a day here. And yeah, your job called me, said some bullshit that you’d be in tomorrow. I told ’em to fire you if you tried that shit again.”
“What? Stone, you can’t—”
“I can and I will!”
I was wrong. It was evident we were back to the ‘I hate you’ phase.
I shouted, “Why is this your business?!”
He didn’t answer, his face twisting, his mouth snapping shut. He stared at me, something fierce flashing in those eyes until he backed down. I felt it in the air. He eased back and I was at a loss. What just happened here?
But he was saying, more quietly, a lot more restrained, “Your lawyer. Then the stadium. If you’re hungry, we can stop and grab food on the way back. You need to head to your house, pick up anything left there?”
Maybe it was the concussion, but I wasn’t able to keep up with him. He was soft, hard, soft, hard, and yeah. Were we now not back to the ‘I hate you’ stage? Damn, this revolving door was making me dizzy.
I slunk down in my chair, suddenly more exhausted than I’d ever felt. “I thought you got all my stuff?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I just asked those girls to pack a bag. We can swing by, make sure you have everything you might need. Then after that, your ass doesn’t leave this house. It’s my one day I can drive you around, so I’m offering to make a pit stop.”
Yeah. Okay. But he was already walking out of the kitchen.
Chapter Eighteen
There was no house.
I gaped at the lawyer. He was all trussed up, a black suit, black tie. Even a black suit jacket. Black briefcase. Black shoes. Black fucking socks. The only thing not black was the shirt. That was a cream color and I knew the quality was expensive. And there was not one iota of hesitation as he nodded to my question.
“Indeed, Miss Phillips. Your father was behind on his mortgage for the last year. He was going into foreclosure. We’d already had a meeting the week before…” Now he seemed to remember to be human, hesitating, “before the accident.”
I had no words. Nothing. This wasn’t as bad as when we lost the house the first time because of my mom’s chemo treatments, but it seemed similar. No. It seemed worse. I had Dad with me then.
Stone leaned forward, sitting next to me. His leg pressed against mine, and he left it there. His elbows went to his knees. “What was owed on the house?”
“Seventy-five percent of it.”
I sucked in my breath.
I had no idea they owed that much on it.
Stone gazed at me. “You want the house?”
The lawyer straightened. “Mr. Reeves, I don’t know…”
“No.” I was thinking, concussion be damned. “If you take the house back, what do they still owe?”
He hesitated again, the second time acting like a human. “They still owe us a hundred thousand. They took out a second loan to pay for some items for her son, I believe.” His mouth pressed in before he said, “There’s no money for you. There was a small amount they set aside for Jared, a fund that Gail had separate. His father’s not in the picture, correct?”
I nodded. “Uh. Yeah. She never talked about him. I don’t think he had parental rights to him. But I wasn’t around that often. I was at college, then I moved here. Jared never mentioned him either. It was a secret. I guess. I never thought to wonder
about it.”
He frowned, pulling out some papers from his briefcase. “Paternal rights were taken away when Jared was two. There was a domestic abuse issue.”
Jesus. My chest stopped working for a moment.
Two? What happened to my stepbrother and Gail?
I whispered, “Two years old?”
“Hmmm, yes.” He put the papers back. “The file’s closed. I don’t believe Jared even knows what happened, but in my career, if rights were taken away at that age, it’s with good reason.”
I needed to call Jared. I’d been putting it off for too long.
“So.” He read through the last of his papers and handed me the last one, along with a pen. “As for your father’s personal effects. They’ve been put in a storage facility and I have the key for you. Mr. Reeves has said you’ve been ill yourself. The storage’s been rented out for the next three months. Once those months are done, you’ll have to take over the payments, or his effects will be sold. All rights revert back to the storage owners.”
He reached into his pocket, pulling out a key on a keychain, and slid it over the table to me.
Stone took the key, asking, “You have their business card?”
“Oh, yes. Here it is.”
Stone took that, as well, standing up from the table. “I’ll be right back.”
I already knew what he was doing. He was taking over payment after the ninety-days were up, but once I was better, I was traveling there and going through everything. I’d have to do it over a weekend because no matter what, I wasn’t missing out on any more college classes.
“If you can sign here, Miss Phillips?” He pointed to the bottom of the paper. “This just says that I’ve gone over the last will and testament of your father.” As I signed, he stood and collected the rest of his stuff, putting it into his briefcase. “I truly am sorry that we met under these circumstances. Your father spoke very highly of you the few times I met him. I looked up to him as a man, and as the kind of father I’d like to be one day.”
The words sounded nice, but after signing, he almost bolted for the door.
“What a dick.” Came from the side.