Beneath the Stands: An Enemies to Lovers, Best Friend's Brother Romance (Sugarlake Series, Book Two)

by Emily McIntire

  Lee’s gaze pierces my chest with its intensity, but it doesn’t last for long. She blinks once and turns, walking out the door.

  I follow behind, replaying the memory of Becca’s “I love yous” and licking her taste from my lips. My muscles strain with the need to run and find her. Finish whatever it is we started before it’s too late and she leaves for good. But I tamp down the urge because even if I could forgive her, I’m not sure I should.

  Becca isn’t meant to be mine. I think she’s meant to be a lesson.

  I’ve learned we don’t always get what we want—what we think we need. We just survive, trying like hell to be better than we were the day before, hoping to ignore the darkness that looms in our heart.

  I spot Sarah and head that way, eager to leave quickly and hunt down Pops. My chest twinges when I reach her, guilt sneaking in through my cracks and reminding me that I left her alone while I fucked another woman.

  Except Becca isn’t another woman.

  She’s the goddamn sun.

  I shake off the thought. “Hey, you ready to go?”

  Sarah nods, the spark that flared earlier tonight when she claimed to still be the “lucky lady” dying from her eyes. When we walk out those doors, the curtain is pulled on our relationship for good, and even though we both know it’s for the best, it still hurts.

  I shouldn’t have let us pretend tonight. It did nothing except muddy the waters. Truthfully, I didn’t mean to put on such a show, but when Becca walked up with her body molded to the side of another man, I grabbed Sarah around the waist before I could think, pulling her into me and leaning on her like a crutch. Using her to keep me from tearing Jax’s arms from his body for daring to touch Becca’s skin.

  “Is your sister okay?” Sarah asks.

  My lips pull down. “Why would you ask that?”

  She points behind me, and I twist to look. I find Lee in front of the bar, phone up to her ear and her face drained of color. Her hand shoots to Chase’s arm and even from across the room I can see the tightness in her grasp.

  Something’s wrong.

  My legs are taking me over there before I can think twice.

  “Lee, what’s wrong?”

  She stares up at me, her bottom lip trembling. “Daddy was in an accident.”

  My organs shift from the punch to my gut, my lungs collapsing as I struggle for breath.

  Not again.

  “Is he… I mean…” I swallow. “Is he okay?”

  She nods, blowing out a breath. “He’s okay. Locked up for the night.” She hesitates. “He hit a family, Eli.” She stumbles over the last of her words and Chase is beside her quick, rubbing her back and whispering in her ear.

  A pang of jealousy hits me as Chase supports her. I haven’t been dealing with Pops for as long as Lee has, but the difference in timing doesn’t mean I don’t ache to have someone to lean on. Someone who will rub my back and whisper in my ear that everything will be okay.

  I clear my throat. “Don’t worry about Pops, Lee. I’ll pick him up in the morning and we’ll deal with it then.” My eyes bounce back and forth between her and Chase. “You just enjoy the rest of your night.”

  Her breathing stutters and Chase’s arms tighten around her waist, feeding her his strength so she doesn’t have to search for her own.

  “O… okay.” She nods.

  I open my mouth to speak again, but the words don’t come. There’s nothing really left to say right now, anyway. Nothing that can be fixed in a simple conversation, at least. So, instead I go back to Sarah.

  Pulling into Pops’s driveway, I feel a curdling in my stomach. Sarah’s quiet, her fingers twisting in her lap as she stares out the window.

  This is it.

  She heads to the guest room for the night, and I’m left glaring at the worn, brown couch, dreading the kink in my back I’m sure to have when I wake up. But even through the lumps and springs, my eyes close the second my head hits the pillow.

  When I wake up in the morning, Sarah’s gone, but it’s not her absence that causes the hollow ache in my chest. It’s the memory of Becca’s taste on my tongue, and her words in my ear.

  I love you. I’ve always loved you.

  47

  Eli

  The car ride home from the county detention center is silent. Pops is sober, his eyes bloodshot but clear, and I think it’s the first time I’ve seen a hint of the man he keeps buried underneath the booze. There’s an awareness in his gaze that’s been missing since I’ve been back.

  His lawyer says he’ll need to pray to whatever God he believes in that the family he hit doesn’t press charges.

  He’s lucky. And I think maybe Ma was watching over him—watching over that pregnant woman. That husband. That little girl.

  Whatever the case, Pops is looking at some trouble.

  The hands of fate have dealt too many blows for me to be convinced that it works in your favor, but maybe there’s a reason I haven’t talked with Pops yet. There’s a tinge of hope expanding in my chest that he’ll be more receptive to the idea of help today. Either way, my nerves are shot, too singed by the flame of Becca’s touch and the ire of Lee’s disappointment to give a damn about the heavy conversation that’s ahead.

  We make it to the house, and I follow as Pops walks slowly toward the door. His back is hunched and his shoulders slumped, the bags under his eyes highlighting the soul-deep ache that he stifles with his drink.

  He’s just past the entryway when I say his name. “Pops.”

  He stops in his tracks, his head hanging low. “What is it, boy?”

  I bite my cheek, pushing down the urge to say that it’s nothing. To forget it. “Come into the kitchen. I’ll brew us some coffee and we can talk.”

  “I’ve been up all damn night. I’m tired. Just wanna get some rest,” he grunts.

  “Pops.” My voice is firm, the rumble vibrating my chest. He twists, his eyes clashing with mine. My natural instinct—what’s been ingrained in me since I was a kid—is to lower my gaze, but I don’t. Even through the tension in my muscles and the bite of anxiety suddenly eating my insides, I hold his stare. Finally, his back heaves with his sigh and he nods, his eyes breaking away to the floor as he walks into the kitchen.

  My foot shakes while I start the coffee, pouring us both a cup and sitting at the kitchen table. Pops goes straight for the cabinet to the left of the sink—the one he always goes for—opening it and staring inside.

  My fingers tap against the hot ceramic as I watch him, every second ramping up the knots in my stomach. “It’s not there,” I say.

  His back straightens and he spins to face me. “And why the hell not?”

  “Dumped it down the drain.”

  “You had no right,” he hisses.

  “I had every right. You’re my father. And you’re sick.”

  He scoffs. “I ain’t sick, boy. I’m fine.”

  I sip my coffee, the heat scalding my tongue. I swallow the burn and nod. “You’re right. Crushing your daughter’s spirit day after day is fine. Killing yourself with every drop you pour down your throat is fine.” I shrug. “Stupid me, for assuming otherwise. Make sure you tell the judge that same thing. I’m sure he’ll realize you’re just fine too, after almost killing that family.”

  He flinches and I grab on to his vulnerability before it disappears.

  “Pops, there’s no shame in admitting you have a problem. We’ve all got our shit. It’s okay to need help after Ma.”

  He drops his coffee mug to the counter, his finger shaking as he points. “Don’t—” His voice breaks. “Don’t bring her up.”

  “Why not? Because you don’t want to talk about her?”

  “‘Cause I don’t think I can.”

  Pops’s grief floods the room, cracking my chest wide open, my own agony rushing to fill the chasm.

  My throat swells. “I get that it’s hard, Pops… but you can’t keep living this way. Ma wouldn’t want this for you.”

  “Don’t
you tell me what she woulda wanted.”

  A little bit of anger seeps out at his words, flowing through my veins and pushing through my fingers until my hand slams on the table. “You think you’re the only one who knew her? Who lost her? Guess what. You weren’t.” My fist beats against my solar plexus, the thunk screaming through the otherwise silent room. “I lost her too. I miss her too. And so does Lee.”

  “You don’t think I know that?” he explodes. “Your mama was the best…” His chin quivers and he grips the counter behind him with both hands, clearing his throat. “Your mama… she was the best damn woman—person—I’ve ever known. I don’t see how anyone could live in her shine and not lose themselves in the darkness after she…” Wetness lines his lids and my stomach clenches as he wipes away the tears.

  “You can say it, Pops. Just because she’s dead doesn’t mean she’s gone.”

  His eyes squeeze tight at my words, his knuckles tightening.

  “But you’ve gotta get help,” I continue. “Lie to me about it all you want, but at least stop lying to yourself.”

  His chest rises and falls rapidly but he doesn’t respond. I trudge on, hanging on to my hope that something I’m saying will get through. That something will finally click. “There’s a place.”

  His eyes snap open.

  “It’s about an hour away. I think you should go stay there for a while.”

  He stares at me, his chin lifting. “What kinda place?”

  My heart beats so fast my fingers tremble. “A place that can help. They’ve got a spot for you, if you’re willing.”

  He’s quiet, his jaw working back and forth, his hands loosening their grasp on the counter. He walks to the table, the chair legs scraping against the wood floor as he collapses in the seat.

  “When?” he rasps.

  My stomach flips. “Today. Right now.”

  “Does your sister know?”

  “Nope.” I shake my head. “Not yet. But she’s on her way and we can tell her. Together.”

  He nods, his hand dragging across his mouth. “I got some things to say to her anyway.”

  Relief flies through me, the tendrils of hope clinging on its wings. He said yes. I don’t know what the future holds for Pops, but I know this is the best chance he has. It’s a ninety-day program, and I want to stay close. Want to be able to support Lee—support them both in ways I’ve neglected until now.

  Which is why, this morning, I called and resigned from my position at FCU.

  I’m staying.

  48

  Becca

  It’s seven a.m. when a faint knocking wakes me. My eyes slowly open, my core throbbing from the sensation of Eli’s tongue in my pussy and his fingers wrapped around my throat.

  Too bad it was only a dream.

  I groan, running my hands over my face, wondering who the hell is here this early in the morning. My thighs are still slick from arousal as I open the front door.

  “I’m not leaving,” Jax states immediately.

  I blink, caught off guard from his tone and still hazy from sleep.

  “Huh?” I yawn. “What’dya mean, you’re not leavin’?”

  It’s not necessarily a game changer for me, either way. My ticket is bought, my suitcase is packed, and I can always call up Jeremy and stay with him if Jax is really changing his plans.

  He pushes by me, his hand running through his wavy strands as he heads to my kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets and starting a pot of coffee.

  My eyes track his movements and I cross my arms. “No, please. Make yourself at home.”

  He spins toward me, his back resting against the countertop. “You’re gonna want coffee for what I’m about to tell you, Becs.”

  My lips turn down. Jax is not known for his broodiness, so the fact it’s radiating off him in waves has unease prickling along my spine. “What happened?”

  His jaw tics, his palms gripping the edge of the counter. “Let me ask you something.” His eyes narrow. “Did you know about Lee’s dad?”

  My forehead creases. “You’re gonna need to be more specific. What about him?”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Dammit, Sweetheart,” he mutters.

  A fist grips my stomach, squeezing. “What is it, Jax? Is he… is everything okay?”

  “No. Things are far from okay with him.” He fills two mugs and my eyes zone in on the steam as it spirals from the cups and disappears into the air.

  “Where were you last night, anyway?” Jax asks.

  The memory of Eli inside me makes my core spasm, sending a rush of blood to my cheeks. I walk over, grabbing the coffee cup and using it to hide my flush. “Don’t change the subject, asshole. What’s wrong with Lee’s old man?”

  “He’s not good, Becs. Lost his shit last night at the party, and reeked of whiskey.”

  I shrug. “Find me a person in this town who ain’t drinkin’.”

  His brows pull down. “Not like this, they aren’t. I’m telling you, Becs. He’s got a problem, and Lee’s been dealing with it on her own for who knows how fucking long.”

  My brain races, confusion pulling my skin tight. “No, I… Lee wouldn’t keep somethin’ like that from me. Besides, that’s not really somethin’ you can hide.”

  As soon as I say the words, I know they’re bullshit. I think of Momma and how she’s the picture-perfect wife always sipping on her “water.” I think to all the times Lee couldn’t have me over, all the reasons why they missed Sunday service. I think of all the things that I kept from her.

  To believe she doesn’t have her own secrets is naive.

  My hand covers my mouth, my heart sinking in my chest. “Oh, God. Are you sure?”

  He huffs a laugh. “Pretty fucking sure, Becs. He was a wreck last night. And if you could have seen Lee’s face…” He pauses, running his fingers through his hair.

  My stomach cramps at the thought of her holding this on her own. “How could I not know?”

  Jax sighs. “I didn’t know either. You know how Lee gets, always keeping everything close to the chest. Avoiding confrontation.”

  “Yeah,” I breathe. “So, you’re… stayin’? Just like that?” I snap my fingers.

  He takes a sip of coffee. “How can I leave now, knowing what she’s going through?”

  “Don’t you need to go back on set?”

  He cringes. “Yeah, well… they’ll just have to deal with it. They can fire me if they have to. It is what it is.”

  I gasp. “Jax, this is your dream. Lee would never forgive herself if you gave up on it because of her and you know it.”

  “I don’t want to leave her alone.” His eyes glisten and it hits me that he loves her enough to suffer, if it means he can support her when she needs it most.

  “How do you do it?”

  Jax’s brows furrow. “Do what?”

  “See them together and still be able to love her so selflessly.”

  He shrugs but I see the anguish in his eyes. “I just want her to be happy.”

  His words hit me hard, slugging my sternum and stealing my breath. I’ve always wanted Eli to be happy, but part of the reason I’m running so far and so fast is so I don’t have to stick around and watch him pledge his love to someone else.

  I sigh, resting my chin in my hand. “You’re the best kinda man, Jackson Rhoades. You make the rest of ‘em look bad.”

  He smiles softly, palming the back of his neck. “I hate when you use my full name like that.”

  I hum, taking a gulp of coffee and peering at him from over the rim. “Listen, you can’t just not go back. Lee wouldn’t want you to lose what you’ve worked so hard for.”

  The muscles in his jaw tense. “I won’t leave her alone.”

  “She has Chase,” I point out.

  “And you trust him to stick around?”

  Not really.

  I blow out a breath, my stomach rolling. I glance at my packed suitcase, ready and waiting by the door, so close to the freedom I’ve always cra
ved.

  I guess it’ll have to remain a dream for another day.

  “I’ll stay.”

  My plan was to show up to Sunday service, look my folks in the eyes, and tell them I was gone for good. Done with being their puppet. Finally.

  Instead, I’m standing outside Lee’s apartment.

  She doesn’t answer right away, but right before I turn to leave, the door cracks open and those baby blues peek out. They turn frigid when they meet mine, but still, she opens the door wider and cocks her hip against the frame.

  My heart is heavy as I look at her. We’ve never fought before, not in our twenty-six years.

  “Hey, sister.” I force a small smile.

  Her brow hikes. I wait for her to speak, but she doesn’t, she just crosses her arms and stares me down.

  I shuffle on my feet. “Can I come in or you gonna keep me out here all day, lookin’ like an ass?”

  The corner of her mouth twitches. “Well, if it looks like a duck and walks like a duck…”

  I smile, a warm sensation teasing my chest, giving me hope that things aren’t as broken as they seem. “Can’t argue with you there.”

  She tilts her head, her eyes analyzing me from head to toe. “Well, come on in then.”

  The couch creaks as we sit next to one another, and I fidget in place. My heart palpitates against my breastbone, fingers twirling my curls.

  She slaps her thighs. “Well?”

  I sigh, dropping my hands. “I don’t know what to say. I’m scared I’ll just make it worse.”

  She scoffs. “Can’t get much worse than what I saw last night.”

  I suck on my teeth, nodding.

  Her lips purse. “I just wanna know why you never told me, Becca. I asked you. In a thousand different ways.”

  I blow out a breath, my heart clenching tight.

  Emotion sticks to my throat but I push the words through the clog. “You’re gonna hate me more than you already do.”

  “I don’t hate you, Becca. I’m hurt by you. There’s a difference.”

  Pushing down the fear of losing her, I search for a sliver of courage to say what I need to say. What she deserves to hear. “I worked with the basketball team when I was at FCU.”