“I didn’t—”
“Shut up. You never apologized for what you did. You were only sorry because I found out. I’ll take ownership for my own mistake, which was dating you for a year in the first place. We never belonged together. I should never have agreed to move in with you. I used you, just like you used me, so we’re all squared up there.” This time when I move around him, he doesn’t try to stop me. “Oh, and I know you’re the one who uploaded that video last week, so you can drop all this fake concern. We are never going to be anything to each other ever again.” It feels good to finally unload all these months of pent-up frustration.
This time when I walk away from him, he doesn’t try to follow me.
Twenty minutes later I’m showered and dressed, but instead of feeling better, I feel infinitely worse. All I want to do is drown myself in pints of ice cream. I poke my head out of the change room, checking for signs of Joey, but he’s finally taken the hint. I should’ve done that ages ago. At least I’ve stood up for myself, and maybe Joey will finally leave me alone, which is all I really wanted in the first place.
I drag myself to the front entrance, phone in hand, as I search social media for the image I saw on Joey’s phone, weighed down by emotions I don’t know what to do with. That picture was taken three days ago: about the same time Bishop sent me the message that we needed to talk. Here I was prepared to tell him I was in, and he may have very well already been out.
I’m about to message Pattie to tell her I’m on my way over and that I’ll need a gallon of ice cream when I notice I have new texts from Lainey. I love my sister-in-law. She’s stayed incredibly impartial during this whole thing, and I sincerely appreciate her lack of sides taken.
I check her messages, hoping she’ll provide news on when my brother is supposed to be home, because that will also tell me when Bishop will be back.
Lainey: are you home?
Me: at the clinic
Lainey: on a Saturday?????
Me: just went for a swim, needed to burn some energy, heading to Pattie and Jules’, what’s up?
Lainey: Just seeing what you’re up to, message me later!
A video of Kody with a face covered in chocolate pudding telling me he loves me follows. She’s been doing daily check-ins all week. I fire back a series of heart-eyes emojis.
I message Pattie and Jules as I head toward their house. I’m halfway there when a car pulls up beside me and slows to match my walking speed. It would be just my luck to be kidnapped today.
I’m about to tell whoever it is to screw off when I realize the car is familiar, and so is the person driving it. “Need a lift?” RJ smiles sheepishly.
“I thought you guys weren’t supposed to be home until later this afternoon?” It’s not the best greeting, but it’s true.
“A storm was rolling in so we flew out early. Lainey told me you were heading over to your friends’ place, and I figured I’d try and catch you on the way.” He drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “Can we grab a quick coffee or something?”
“Okay. Sure.” I get in the car and fire another message to Pattie and Jules to let them know I’m with my brother.
He doesn’t have a chance to say much of anything because the coffee shop is less than fifty feet down the road. He pulls into the drive-through, and I opt for an iced frappé thing. It’s somewhat close to ice cream.
“I owe you an apology,” RJ says once we have our coffees and are parked on the street.
“For what?”
“About the whole thing with Bishop. I was wrong about him.”
And of course I burst into tears, because I really thought he was wrong and now I’m not so sure. To his credit, RJ doesn’t panic like most guys would. Maybe because he married a woman with an anxiety disorder, and sometimes that anxiety manifests in tears.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” He reaches across the seat and gives the back of my neck a squeeze, which actually makes me cry harder because that’s exactly what Bishop would do, and I’m pretty sure I screwed that right the hell up.
I can’t answer that question because I’ve turned into a snot-sobbing mess, so I pull up the image that Joey showed me less than half an hour ago and thrust it at RJ. I wail, “I think he’s already over it.” I’m not sure I’m even remotely intelligible.
“This is what you’re upset about?” RJ asks.
“He’s posing! He never does that. Ever. He always looks like someone’s shit on his breakfast when people try to take pictures of him, but he actually looks not pissed off here, and I’ve been miserable for the past week!” I say all this between hiccups and sobs. It’s pretty extra, even for me.
“I don’t know if I would classify that as a smile, and that’s someone he knew from college. And she’s married.”
A tiny seed of hope forms, but I squash it down. “How do you know that?”
He enlarges the picture until I can see the rock on her ring finger. “Me and Bishop had it out right after this. Like immediately after that picture was taken, we basically threatened to kill each other.”
“You what?” I look my brother over. There are no signs of injury, but then all I can see is his body from the neck up and the biceps down. “Is he okay?”
“Yeah, he’s fine. I mean, I punched him a few times, and he punched me, but we’re over it. I was wrong, Stevie, and I’m sorry.”
“So he’s not over me?”
“No. Not even a little. He’s pretty much the opposite of over you.” He pulls me into an awkward, uncomfortable hug, thanks to the center console between us. “I should’ve listened to you. I made it about me when it wasn’t, and I interfered when I shouldn’t have, but to be fair, you’d just had your heart ripped out, and I really didn’t want to see you go through that again.”
“I know, and I appreciate you wanting to protect me, but all it really accomplished was me doubting myself even more.” The past week has sucked so much. The not knowing and feeling paralyzed by uncertainty.
He releases me and settles back in his seat. “I’m sorry for that. I just . . . I have a lot of guilt for not being able to be there for you and Mom when Dad passed.”
“But you were there.”
“But I wasn’t really.” He shakes his head. “I came to the funeral and went through the motions, but I wasn’t there in a way that counted for anything. I dealt with it by putting my head down and playing hockey when I should’ve been reaching out more to make sure you were okay. I wanted to find a way to fill that empty space, and I guess I figured if I could fill it for you, then it might help me too.”
It’s amazing how a few words can completely alter one’s perception. “I don’t need you to be anything but my brother, RJ. And I realize I’ve made our relationship difficult by only accepting the version of you that’s easy to handle and doesn’t come with screaming fans.”
“I get why you don’t like it, though.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I know I didn’t do a very good job of dealing with things when I first started out, and that made it hard for you.”
“It wasn’t a version of you I knew.” Or particularly liked. “But it’s different now. I haven’t been very fair to you, or Bishop. I haven’t really made an attempt to fit into all the parts of your life, just the ones I’m familiar and comfortable with, but it means I’m missing out on a lot.” I shift so I can sort of face him. “I kept thinking that if I stepped into your spotlight, I’d stop being me and all anyone would see is your little sister, because frankly, it felt like that a lot in high school. And then you went through that phase and, well . . . that was awkward.” Especially when girls would slip me their number and ask me to pass it to my brother. Or pretend to be my friend so they could get close to him.
“I’m really sorry my choices affected you like that. And it killed me when you wouldn’t talk to me back then.”
“I was so mad at you for being a super-dirty man-whore. I looked up to you my entire life, and then you became someone I didn’t know.”
“It cost me a lot, Stevie. Not just my relationship with you and Mom.”
“I know, and I don’t want to keep dredging up that past and making us wallow in it. I’m just telling you how it impacted me.”
“Well, I think we’re even, now that there’s a video of you making out with one of my teammates.”
I cock a brow. “Not quite the same as a threesome in a hot tub, RJ, and you know it.”
He makes a face. “Let’s never bring up either of those things ever again.”
“Deal.”
We’re both silent for a while before RJ speaks again. “I think when we tried to fix things between us, maybe we swung too far in the opposite direction, especially after Dad passed.”
“I can see that. I just want RJ my brother, not this weird dad-bro hybrid. I love that you have my back, even when I make stupid mistakes, but more than anything I want to feel like we’re equals, not like I’m the kid sister you need to take care of.”
“I can’t promise I won’t be protective, because that’s just me, and if Bishop screws you over, I’ll beat his ass, but I’m going to do my best to just be your brother.”
“You can’t beat his ass.”
“I actually have his permission.”
“Why would he give you permission to do something like that?”
RJ gives me his “come off it” look. “Because he has it bad for you.”
“You really think so?”
“I don’t think, I know. And can we address the fact that you hooked up with the one guy on my team I hate?”
“It’s not a hookup, and you let me move in across the hall from him, so you have no one to blame but yourself.”
“I knew I should’ve moved you into the pool house when I had the chance.”
“Hindsight is such a bitch, isn’t it?” I consider my lack of foresight with Bishop. “The whole team is back?”
“Yeah. Bishop couldn’t get off the plane fast enough.”
“So he’s probably home now?”
“There’s a good chance. You want me to drop you off at the condo?” RJ offers.
I don’t want to make Bishop wait any longer than I already have. “I think home would be a good place for me to go.”
He turns the car around, and I send a message to Pattie and Jules that I’ll have to take a rain check on brunch. It’s time to stop burying my head in the sand.
I send Bishop the message I should have days ago.
CHAPTER 27
UNDERWEAR DECLARATIONS
Bishop
Things I should have done before leaving for a series of away games:
rescheduled my cleaner to come the day before I get home;
done my laundry (or had my cleaner do it);
changed my goddamn bedsheets;
ordered a bunch of shit to prove to Stevie that I’m it for her and she’s it for me, and fuck everyone else and what they think;
shaved my balls.
Things I did before I left for the series of away games: none of the above.
So as much as I want to knock on Stevie’s door and force her to deal with me the second I arrive on the penthouse floor, I have a bunch of shit to take care of.
Nolan is sitting on the couch, watching TV and eating carrots and some kind of dip.
I take in the pigsty that is my apartment. “Nice of you to pick up after yourself while I was gone.”
“I’m taking it you still haven’t talked to Stevie,” he says through a mouthful of chewed-up vegetables.
“Not yet.” I pause and pick up the can sitting on the coffee table, ready to give my brother hell because it’s barely noon and he’s drinking, until I read the label. “Since when do you drink nonalcoholic beer?”
“Uh, since the past week, I guess.” Nolan runs his hands over his thighs, almost like he’s nervous.
“Did something happen while I was away?” Nolan drinks light beer most of the time, and he always balks at me when I get him a six-pack of the fake-out stuff, since he’s really not supposed to drink at all.
“I had an incident a while back.” He chews on a nail.
“What kind of incident?”
“I misplaced my insulin, and Stevie helped me out.”
“What? When the fuck did that happen?” And why the hell didn’t Stevie say anything to me?
“It was during your last away series, before the viral video. I asked her not to say anything because I didn’t want you to worry more than you already do. She took me to urgent care, and we had a talk about me taking better care of myself.”
I motion between us. “You and I have that fucking talk all the damn time.”
He shrugs. “I know. I guess I just never really realized how hard it was on you. Or how selfish I was being until she pointed it out. So I figured it would be a good idea to take better care of myself so I can keep being a pain in your ass for as long as possible.”
I get a tight feeling in my throat. “Right. Okay. Well, that’s good. I’m glad.”
“Yeah.” He nods like a bobblehead.
“I’m always going to be here to make sure you’re taken care of,” I say, because it’s true. “But it sure would be great if you valued your life as much as I do.”
He clears his throat. “I know. I get that. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t live your life because you’re afraid of the way I’m living mine. I realize the best way to make it easier is for me to take my diabetes seriously so you don’t have to worry as much.”
I blink a bunch of times and rub the back of my neck. “That’s really good to hear, Nolan.”
“I figure you’d need me to be around for dating advice eventually.” He grins.
I roll my eyes. “I already told you. I don’t need dating advice.”
“Oh really? Does that mean you’ve fixed things with Stevie?”
“Not yet. I’m about to, though, right after I clean this mess up.” I motion to myself and head for the hall, pausing to squeeze his shoulder as I pass. It’s as sentimental as I’m willing to get with him.
“I love you too, bro!” he calls after me.
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, but I smile as I drop my duffel on my bed. At least I have one less thing to be concerned about.
The cleanliness of my apartment is not my first priority, since we can talk at Stevie’s place, but the personal grooming and gift buying need to happen before the door knocking.
I shower, shave all the important parts, and head back out to buy nice things for the woman I want as my girlfriend, hoping that by the end of the day that’s exactly what she’ll be. I buy two hundred dollars’ worth of chocolate and an equally expensive bouquet of flowers. I’d stop and grab a pizza, because it’s kind of our thing, but I’d prefer not to have olive-pineapple breath in case we make out later. Also, my hands are already pretty full.
I step out onto the sidewalk, prepared to return to my apartment and have a long-overdue conversation with Stevie. The sun has disappeared behind the clouds, and it’s started to rain. Perfect. I didn’t have the foresight to bring an umbrella with me, so there’s no way to hide from the rain. I’m waiting at the crosswalk for the light to turn when my phone buzzes. I shift the giant bouquet of flowers and adjust the bag of chocolate that’s cutting off the circulation in my forearm so I can fish it out of my pocket.
The screen lights up with an alert that I have a new message from Stevie. Fucking finally. I thumb in the code, getting it wrong twice before I slow down and type it in correctly, and Stevie’s message finally pops up.
I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to respond. I’m ready to talk whenever you are.
I begin composing a response, asking if she’s home and telling her I’ll be there soon, when the light changes and people start moving. I trail behind the group because I’m not the best multitasker and I’m trying to avoid getting my eye poked out by an umbrella.
One second I’m holding my phone, about to press send, and the next some lunatic cyclist is w
eaving between me and an elderly lady. He almost takes her out but swerves at the last second and bumps me instead. My phone goes flying, skittering across the pavement, which would be fine, except a goddamn cab pulls forward and runs it over. Based on the crunch, I’m thinking I need to replace my phone.
I look up at the sky. “Are you serious with this shit?”
Obviously karma is an asshole like me, because the drizzle turns into a downpour.
The little old lady who almost got run over by the cyclist gives me a disapproving look and ambles across the street under the cover of her umbrella. I scoop up my ruined phone. The best plan is to go home and see if Stevie is there before I worry about replacing it. Besides, if the SIM card is still functioning, I’m sure I can slide it into one of the old phones in my kitchen junk drawer.
I’m soaked by the time I get to my apartment. The living room is empty, and there’s a note stuck to the door. I don’t bother to read it, since I have more pressing things to take care of. I drop everything on the coffee table and shuck off my wet clothes. I’m down to my boxer briefs when there’s a knock on the door.
I don’t consider my lack of clothing as I throw it open.
Stevie stands in the hallway, lavender hair spilling over her shoulders. She’s wearing a sports bra and a pair of those running shorts, her cheeks flushed like she’s been running, or something.
“Hi.” Her eyes sweep over me, and she shifts from foot to foot.
“Hey.” Well, we’re off to a great start.
“Did you—”
“I just—”
She bites her lip, that plush bottom lip that I waited weeks to finally nibble on and that I’d really like to nibble on again, but after we talk.
“I thought I heard the elevator a minute ago,” she says.
“I got your message, but then my phone was run over by a cab and I couldn’t respond, so I came straight home. I was planning to knock on your door.”
“But you wanted to get dressed for the occasion first?” One corner of her mouth tips up in an uncertain half smile as she motions to my boxers. They have a bull’s-eye over the crotch.
A Favor for a Favor Page 26
