Instead, it was just me.
Well, and my mom, but she was concentrating on that crossword like her life depended on it.
“She quit the team?” my dad asked.
“Yeah.” No way was I telling him that she’d quit because she’d gotten hurt. The last thing I needed was to give my dad more ammunition for why I should quit too.
“You should have given up that game years ago.”
I tried to stop myself, I really did. “That game is my ticket out of this town.”
“The Army is your ticket out, son. Don’t fool yourself.”
Things took a turn for the worse from there. In an instant he was shouting, and I was blinded by rage, frustration…a feeling so bitter and useless, it made me want to crawl out of my skin. An argument so well-worn we barely had to think before speaking, I knew my responses by rote.
When I could make my escape, I didn’t hesitate to run upstairs to my room. Luckily, I made it up there just in time for my weekly call with Paxton, and I swear he took one look at me and knew. “Another blowout?”
I grunted, not in the mood for one of his speeches about how I had to give Dad a wide berth and be patient. Paxton might’ve figured out how to turn the other cheek, how to be the kind of son that made our old man happy…but I never would. My dad and I were just too different.
Or maybe we were too similar.
Ugh, now that was a depressing thought.
“Over soccer again?” Paxton really didn’t need to ask. It was almost always where our arguments led no matter how they got started. We’d been known to start bickering over who was supposed to mow the lawn and somehow ended up back on the topic of me, my desire to pursue soccer professionally, and my father’s need for me to join the Army like he had.
“What do you think?”
Paxton gave me a sympathetic grimace. “Well, he’ll be sorry when you land yourself a full-ride at some fancy university.”
I leaned back in my desk chair and arched a brow in disbelief. “No, he won’t. He’d never admit that he was wrong.”
He didn’t try to argue.
“That’s the worst part,” I said, picking up a pencil from the desk so I could jab it into a notebook with force. “Even if I get everything I’ve ever wanted and play at the pro level, it’ll never be enough.” I’d never be enough.
Paxton fell quiet for a bit. “Look, man, you can’t worry about Dad.”
“Easy for you to say,” I muttered.
He heard me, and he laughed. “You’re right, it is easy for me to say. Being on the other side of the world is good for perspective.”
I dropped my chin with a small groan. Here my brother was far from home and serving his country, and I was whining about our dad like a kid. “It’s all good,” I said, trying to sound far more chill than I felt. “I’ve just got to work hard so I can get out of here, too.” I forced a grin. “That’ll show him, right?”
Paxton laughed, but his expression turned thoughtful. “You know what I think?”
“That you’re jealous of your super-hot, crazy-talented little brother?”
He ignored me. “I think the best way you can get back at Dad is not becoming him.”
I gave a snort of disbelief. “That’s what I’ve been doing, dude. Why do you think he hates me so much?”
“He doesn’t hate you.” Paxton said it automatically, like he always did.
I rolled my eyes. No, technically my father didn’t hate me. I was sure that deep down, under that hard shell of armor around his heart, he loved me as any father loved their son.
He just didn’t like me. “I could never become Dad,” I said, horrified and more than a little offended at the thought.
Paxton shrugged and that made me that much angrier.
“You’re the one who’s following in his footsteps.”
My brother was irritatingly unfazed by the remark, and it was only then that I realized I must have learned it from him. I annoyed the crap out of my dad by not reacting to his digs, and Paxton did the same to me.
Paxton leaned in closer to his screen, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together like he was a teacher. “Listen up, kid. I might have followed his career path by going into the military, but that was my decision.”
I clenched my jaw because I knew he was right. He’d always had a thing for the military, had always believed in serving and protecting. It hadn’t been a shocker when he’d enlisted.
Paxton’s stare burned through the screen and made me squirm. “I might’ve enlisted like him, but that doesn’t mean I have to be like him.”
“You’re nothing like him,” I said.
Paxton nodded. “And neither are you.”
I shifted again because right in that moment…I wasn’t so sure. Yeah, I might’ve learned Paxton’s trick to look all cool and unmoved, but when push came to shove…?
He kept you on a tight leash.
I winced as my words from the other night came back to me. I’d been trying not to think about that interaction these last few days but my words kept coming back to me, nagging at me because they were so unwarranted.
Hannah hadn’t done anything wrong; I’d just lashed out because…because why?
Because I was jealous of Caleb? Because I wanted her to want me the way that I wanted her?
I dropped my head into my hands with another groan.
“What’s up?”
I lifted my head to face my brother. “What if I am like him?”
Paxton frowned. “You’re not.”
I grimaced. “What if I could be?”
Paxton arched a brow. “Is there something I should know, little bro?”
I lifted a shoulder. “I just think… I don’t know. Sometimes I say things I don’t mean. I lash out, I let anger get the best of me.”
Just like him.
The unspoken words hung in the air between us.
Paxton narrowed his eyes at me like he was only now seeing me for the first time. I waited for him to say something wise. “I think that’s called being human.”
I let out a long breath, exasperated because he wasn’t getting it.
He shrugged. “Emotions get the best of everybody at times.”
“Yeah, but not everybody has our dad’s DNA.”
Paxton seemed to think it over. “We all make mistakes, River. But you decide how to handle them and how to make things right.”
I looked away from the screen, and my eyes caught on the shopping bag I’d thrown on the bed. It held the uniform that Allison had dropped off so I could give it to Hannah before the game this weekend.
Paxton cut into my whirling thoughts which all seemed to center around Hannah. “You know the real difference between you and Dad?”
My gaze shot to the screen to look at my brother. “What?”
“You know better. You learned from him who you don’t want to be.” He shrugged as if it really was that easy. “Knowing is half the battle, right?”
I stared at him for a second, partly because yet again he was the voice of reason I’d needed to hear but also because…knowing is half the battle? Seriously? “Dude,” I groaned, flopping back in my seat. “Please tell me you did not just quote GI Joe.”
Paxton grinned.
I shook my head. “You’re such a dork.”
“And you love me for it.”
I rolled my eyes but I didn’t deny it. “All right, loser, I’ve got to go.”
Paxton still wore that cocky smirk that made us look like twins. “Hot date?”
I snorted in amusement. “Why are you so obsessed with my love life?”
To my surprise, he answered seriously. “Because I want you to be happy. And because I think you could use a little love in your life.”
I rolled my eyes again because this was getting way too sappy, and sappy I did not do. Besides, ever since I’d spotted the shopping bag a thought had been gnawing at me.
I needed to give her the uniform.
Tonigh
t? Not necessarily. But a sense of urgency had me getting up out of the chair and reaching for a clean T-shirt that didn’t smell like the gas station where I’d worked after school. “I got to head out.”
“To see a girl?”
I cut him a look that made him laugh. “I knew it. You’re acting weird…weirder than usual. It has to be a girl.”
I glared at him as I slid on the shirt. “When have you ever known me to be weird over a girl?”
“That’s my point exactly,” he said as he sank back in his seat. “You haven’t, because you’ve never been serious about a girl.” He arched his brows. “I’ve been waiting years for this day.”
“For what day?”
“The day you fall in love.”
I froze with one arm in an armhole and the other awkwardly sticking up in mid-air. “What the—” I broke out of the pose and finished dressing. “Why would you say something like that?”
He laughed.
He was still laughing as I snatched up the bag and headed out of the room, shouting back with one last “take care of yourself!”
I could still hear his laugh when I reached the top of the stairs, and his voice followed me from my room. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you!”
Chapter Eleven
Hannah
Was I too old to be playing Mario Kart with Bentley?
No.
Never.
I would never ever be too old for Mario Kart. Or for Bentley, for that matter.
What I was too old for was my father’s nickname for me.
“Bubby, you’ve got a visitor,” he called out from the kitchen.
I cringed at the name and at the fact that whoever this visitor was, they’d just heard it. Granted, it was probably Rose. My BFF was the only one of my friends who’d just drop by unannounced at this time of night.
Still, Rose would spend at least twenty minutes calling me Bubby until I tackled her into submission. Bentley grinned at me as I uncrossed my legs and got up off the floor.
“Yeah, you better run. I’m about to kick your butt, Bubby.” The age-old, much despised nickname was followed by his laughter, which could only be described as evil.
I sighed and wiped popcorn crumbs off my favorite faded sleep T-shirt and yoga pants. “I swear, Rose,” I said as I headed toward the front entry. “I will take you down and lay you flat if you call me—” I froze in mid-step.
“Bubby?” River’s smug smile had my heart flipping and butterflies taking flight in my stomach.
“Um…” I could barely breathe let alone think. What was he doing here?
River moved forward from where he’d been leaning against the front door, cocking his head to the side as one corner of his mouth hitched up in the sexiest little lopsided smile I’d ever seen. “Tell me again what you’ll do to me if I call you Bubby?”
I blinked furiously as he kept moving toward me, not stopping until he was mere inches in front of me. My ribcage felt too tight; my lungs couldn’t expand. My old faded camp shirt felt like a corset. “W-what are you doing here?”
His eyes flickered over me and his smile grew. “Nice T-shirt.”
I resisted the urge to look down. It was a relic from my summer with Alex and Jordan and their names were scrawled across it in permanent marker, along with our adopted slogan, “the trouble with tomboys…”
I loved this shirt, but right now it was too tight, and too thin. I crossed my arms over my chest with a frown. The last time we’d talked one on one he’d insulted me, and after today’s run-in with Caleb, I didn’t have it in me to be pleasant. “What are you doing here?”
He held out a white shopping bag. “I come in peace.”
I eyed him with suspicion for another second before taking it from him. When I looked inside, some of my defensive anger faded in the face of pleasure. “My uniform.”
“You’ll need it for the game this weekend.”
My grip tightened on the bag. The game. Where I would see Caleb.
Yeah, that should be fun.
“You okay?”
I looked up in surprise. “Yeah, of course. I’m great.”
He nodded slowly. “Great, huh?”
I pursed my lips, not quite able to bring myself to repeat that lie. I let out a long breath. “It’s been a long day.” I shifted, tucking the bag of clothes under my arms. “Was there something else you wanted?”
I’d softened my tone to keep it from sounding rude, but I still felt mean for not inviting him in.
“Can you come outside for a minute?” he asked.
I blinked in surprise. “Um, sure.”
My father chose that moment to walk up to us and introduce himself. I loved my dad, but he had a special ability to embarrass me without even trying. “Dad,” I interrupted when he started asking River about his parents and his school. “We’re going to go outside to talk for a while, okay?”
He nodded and jabbed a finger in my direction. “If you get on that bike you’d best be wearing a helmet.” He turned to River with arched brows. “And you’d better drive like a snail.”
River looked so solemn in the face of my father’s dad tone I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. “Yes, sir.”
My father stepped back letting us pass, and when we were outside in my driveway under a sky filled with stars, I breathed in the scent of fresh air and…River.
Man, he smelled good. Like, always. Like soap and something else…he smelled like a man. He was the same age as me, just starting junior year. But still not old enough to be smelling like a man.
It wasn’t fair to my senses. He was too much. His intensity and his presence and his energy and his scent…it was all too overwhelming. But at least out here on the driveway, I could finally breathe.
I turned to face him and caught him watching me.
Intensity? Check.
Dark, mesmerizing eyes? Check.
“What are you doing here?” It was the third time I was asking, but this time even I could hear the weariness in my voice. The first few days of school were always tough enough, getting used to the new routine, but this year was so much harder. Everything felt new without Caleb at my side. It wasn’t like I was dependent on Caleb or anything, but he had been a staple in my life, and figuring out life without him was an adjustment.
And then there was the confrontation in the car today. Just thinking about it made my stomach churn. I wrapped my arms around my waist and tilted my head back to meet his gaze. It was only then I realized he still hadn’t answered my question.
“What’s wrong?” he asked instead.
I thought about saying ‘nothing’ and shrugging it off, but the look in his eyes wouldn’t let me. “Bad day.”
His eyes were filled with warmth and sympathy and something so uncharacteristically tender it made my chest ache. I looked away quickly so I could catch my breath.
“I came here to apologize.”
That had my head snapping back so I could face him. Study him. See if he was trying not to laugh because the statement seemed so utterly ludicrous. This guy just didn’t seem the type to apologize, let alone admit he’d done anything wrong.
He took a step closer. “I’m sorry.”
“For?”
“Being an idiot.”
I let out a shocked huff of laughter at his blunt honesty, and his lips curved upward in response. “I shouldn’t have said anything about you and Caleb. I don’t know the first thing about what went down between you two. I shouldn’t have made it sound like you were some helpless victim.”
I caught my breath because that was exactly how I’d been feeling for the past few hours. The way Caleb was acting, the things he’d said…I felt powerless. At school I was pitied—everyone knew that Caleb had dumped me for someone new. Caleb had made it clear he’d seen me as weak—not a true partner but a sidekick, of sorts.
Suddenly playing for his rival’s team looked petty even though it wasn’t like that.
“You were just saying what oth
er people were thinking,” I finally said. “It was what Caleb thought, too.” My voice hitched, and I was horrified to realize that I was dangerously close to tears.
Again.
River took a step closer, concern filling his eyes and making them warm and inviting. He looked warm and inviting. I had this crazy urge to lean toward him, to rest against him and let him hold me. I didn’t do it, but I wanted to.
“What do you mean?” he said.
I swallowed and shrugged. Of all the people I could talk about this with—Rose, Alex, Jordan, or even my mom—it was odd that it was River I wanted to talk to. Maybe it was because he was a guy, or because he hadn’t liked Caleb to begin with, or because he was my teammate and hadn’t been handling me with kid gloves. Not even a little bit, just ask the bruise on my butt from when he’d gone up against me on the field. Whatever it was, I found myself spilling it all to River, from the very beginning when I’d gotten the text message that he’d needed space to this afternoon when he’d all but told me he thought I’d been tagging along when it came to sports and soccer.
River’s jaw was clenched tight by the end, and when he muttered a curse, it came out as a growl. His hands on my shoulders shocked me into silence. “He’s an idiot, Hannah. You know that, right?”
I shrugged, distracted by the weight of his hands on me and the heat of his skin through my T-shirt. “All I know is, I’m so frustrated. He was my best friend, and now…” I shook my head, trying to find the words. “I hate the way he sees me now—how everyone sees me.”
“How do they see you?”
“Like I’m pathetic or pitiful.” I swallowed as the words threatened to choke me. “That’s not me.”
He leaned in close. “That is not you.”
I nodded. I knew it but it was nice to hear him reaffirm it, to hear him say it like it was a law of nature. I was not a victim. I was not pitiful. I wasn’t some drama queen or some tagalong who just played soccer because her boyfriend did. I couldn’t be cast aside or kicked off a team just because Caleb had the hots for some girlie girl who didn’t want me around.
“I hate how he keeps making me feel like I’m the bad guy here,” I said. “And I hate that he keeps winning.”
Playing the Enemy: The Trouble With Tomboys #1 Page 9
