Snapshot, p.29
Snapshot, page 29
He never mentioned anything about scouts. “There are going to be scouts here?”
Reese nods. “Yeah. The board invites them to give the players the chance to schmooze. And because they are rich as fuck.”
“I can’t wait to see you schmooze.”
He takes my hand and chuckles. “With you by my side, I’m not sure I’ll have to do much before they are begging me to join their team just to see more of you.”
Always with the charm. I swat his chest playfully. “Stop it. What team are you looking at?”
He gives me a sideways glance. “I haven’t thought much about it.”
I don’t think I necessarily believe that, but I don’t get the chance to ask before Reese is being approached. I knew he was a big deal, but we have been here fifty minutes and he’s had someone to talk to the entire time. I’m not sure who all the people are, but I heard one of the women introduce themselves as a masseuse. She offered him her business card and everything. Despicable. I mean, I can’t blame her because look at Reese, but still. The only reason she walked away is because he introduced me as his girlfriend.
“These women are persistent.”
Reese squeezes my hand. “They are, but it’s their job. They are here to try and get business. Unfortunately for her, I already have my own masseuse.”
He kisses my knuckles and leads me through the crowd, and somehow we’re able to get to our table without another distraction. Relief swirls through me seeing Laney sitting in the chair next to mine. I sink into it and nearly cry at how good it feels to be off my feet and these stupid shoes.
Reese notices it and chuckles. “I’m guessing I’ll be the one massaging tonight?”
I flutter my eyelashes in his direction. “If you would be so kind.”
Laney leans forward, grabbing our attention. “Where’s Amy?”
“She canceled this morning.”
Not even a little surprised.
Laney shakes her head and leans back. Her eyes track across the room, and I don’t have to look to know she’s staring at Sawyer. He’s been at the bar since we got here.
“Where’s Westen?” I ask.
Laney winces. “Apparently, his ex-girlfriend is here, and he disappeared with her a little over twenty minutes ago.”
Reese curses, and I place my hand on top of hers. “I’m sorry. He’s a dick.”
She smiles, but it doesn’t meet her eyes. “Thanks. I don’t even know why I agreed to come.”
I do. I glance over my shoulder at Sawyer. He’s alone, sipping at a drink and looking like a lost puppy.
“Why don’t you go check on Sawyer? He looks upset.”
Reese whips around to see his best friend, and his brow furrows. “Yeah, maybe I—”
I grip his tie and tug him to sit back down, shooting him a look I hope he can read. And when his eyes flick to Laney and he settles, I know he can.
Laney hasn’t taken her eyes off Sawyer, but she shakes her head. “Why would I need to check on him?”
“You’re friends, right?”
She shifts and bites on her lip. “Sort of, I guess. I mean, we used to be.”
“Then, there you go. It seems like he could use a friend.”
It takes her a minute to agree, but eventually, she stands and wanders his way. She taps him on his shoulder, and I’m pleased to see how he brightens when he sees who is tapping him.
I settle back in my chair, a proud smile on my face.
“Are you playing cupid, Ms. Lewis?”
I grin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He tugs my chair closer to his and presses a deep kiss to my cheek. “You do, and you just sent that poor lamb to the wolf’s den.”
I don’t see anything wrong with that. It’s obvious Sawyer and Laney are fighting things between them, and it would be much easier if they just gave in. Maybe some liquid courage will help Sawyer pull his head from his ass.
The night drifts on, and to my surprise, it’s been a very pleasant event. The food was amazing, and even though Reese has to speak with a bunch of people, he always makes sure to include me in the conversation. Even if some of the people look miserable with me being there, it’s still been nice.
Eventually, they announce that it’s time for the DJ over the speakers. Reese stands and holds his hand out for me. “May I have this dance?”
“I would be so honored.”
He snaps his teeth in a bright smile and leads me onto the dance floor. Memories flash by in my head of me being fourteen and dancing in that ice cream shop parking lot with him.
“Do you remember your first homecoming?”
Well, I’m glad I’m not the only one remembering that night. I pull back to see his face but keep my hands around his neck. “I do. I think that’s the first night I caught feelings for you.”
Reese levels his stare and lowers his voice. “Me too.”
“Really?”
He shrugs against my hands. “I can’t say for sure, and I’m not sure I should even if I could, but something changed that night.”
I settle against his chest with a smile on my face.
I’m not sure life could be any better than it is right now. Everything is seemingly perfect, and I’m going to try not to think about how I probably just jinxed myself.
I’ve known Reese for a long time. During many stages, from little boy to awkward preteen, teenage Reese, and now adult Reese, and I think this might be my favorite version yet. I can’t wait to meet Dad Reese.
He’s so confident speaking with scouts, not at all awkward, and every word he says is said with a point. He’s flawless. The scouts notice too; I see the way they eye him, like they are sizing up a future player who will represent their team.
Before now, he wasn’t showing any outward interest, but when the scout from the professional hockey team from our state walks up, Reese stiffens. His movements aren’t as confident, at least for the first minute, but the more they talk, the more he relaxes, so by the end of their conversation, they are laughing at something Reese said like long-lost friends. I wasn’t paying attention, so I offer a fake laugh, but the scout wouldn’t notice if I was laughing or not. He is drawn in by my boyfriend, just as he should be.
Why wouldn’t Reese tell me he was interested in playing for the Beavers? Maybe he didn’t want to get his hopes up or be embarrassed when they weren’t interested back. Either way, I wish he would have told me.
“It was nice speaking with you, Reese Larson. I look forward to future conversations.”
Reese shakes the guy’s hand, a huge smile on his handsome face. “Me too, sir. Thank you for giving us your time.”
As if the guy just now realized I was standing here too, he looks to me, and his face softens. “Yes, of course. I will keep an eye out for your work, Winnie Lewis.”
I tilt my head, but the man offers no explanation. Instead, he shakes each of our hands and saunters away to the next player.
Reese leads me through the crowd and onto the dance floor, then pulls me against his chest. I rest my head against it, listening to his beating heart.
“So you want to be a Beaver?” I keep my voice level, hoping not to startle him in case he doesn’t want to talk about it.
And for a passing moment of silence, I wonder if he doesn’t, but eventually, he sighs. “Yeah. Sure, the mascot isn’t as cool as the Timberwolves, but Beavers are cool too. They build dams.”
I giggle into his chest and pull away to read his face. “Why didn’t you tell me that when I asked?”
“In case I tanked the interview.” Like I thought. “Or in case you don’t want to stay in the state.”
I’ve never really thought about where I wanted to live when I was older, but I wouldn’t be upset staying in our home state. Especially now with a baby on the way.
“I wouldn’t mind.”
Reese’s eyes bounce around my face. “You mean that?”
So silly of him to think I would ever want to be apart from him again. Sucking in a deep breath of his rich cologne, I lower my voice and pull his face close to mine. “I’ll follow you anywhere, Reese Larson. Me, our daughter, and any future babies we might have.”
43
Reese
I guess it’s true what they say. What goes up, must come down.
My truck complains at the high speed, but I’m too fucking pissed to care right now. I shouldn’t get woken up by my girlfriend crying on the phone because her brother freaked the fuck out on her.
The only reason I’m not heading to see Winnie right now is because Emma and Laney promised to keep her at their place until I can get to her.
Brakes squealing to a stop, I throw the truck in park and wait. I’m not going into The Underground tonight. I’m too fucking mad and would end up pissing off the wrong person, and I’m not trying to die tonight. But I will fight if it comes down to it.
A part of me hopes it doesn’t, but the other, louder part right now wouldn’t mind throwing a few punches into Elijah’s face. Winnie didn’t tell me everything he said, but from how hard she was crying, I know it couldn’t have been good.
She had just texted me this morning, telling me how she was going to make dinner, ask him to watch a movie, and slowly break the news. Well, none of that worked because I fucking texted her and he saw my name on her phone.
I don’t know if I’m more pissed because my ex-best friend can’t get over his shit and let his sister be happy, or if I’m pissed because I’m the one who fucked everything up.
Going back, everything starts with me. I was always the one to invite Winnie to play with us. I felt bad that she never joined in, and I never saw her with friends, so it just made sense to me. Elijah never put up a fight. He and Winnie were mostly close. I was the one who hung out with her more than I should have. I vented to her like she was some kind of weird child therapist, and she listened. I was the one who let us get close enough to where she thought it would be okay to kiss me. I was the one who snuck into her room that night and didn’t leave when I should have.
Me. I’m the problem, and yet I’m selfish enough to not let Winnie go.
“What’s the plan?”
I shrug. I hadn’t thought about a plan.
Sawyer offered to join, I think, more or less, to make sure no one dies. I’ve already warned him not to step in unless it looks like it’s getting to that point. I don’t want Elijah thinking he’s being ganged up on.
Finally, I recognize the figure stalking through the large doors. I fist-bump Sawyer and jump from the truck.
“Eli,” I shout.
“You have some fucking nerve showing your face here, Larson.”
“Yeah? You have some fucking nerve making my girlfriend cry.”
He bounds for me, but I duck out of the way, turn, and throw my fist in his direction. I end up hitting his cheek, but he doesn’t even react. He throws three punches back, two I’m able to dodge, but the third hits me right in the nose. Blood immediately pours from it; I wipe, but I know it’s no use.
“Don’t fucking talk to me about my sister.”
“Or what?” I move closer, getting right in his face.
It’s so easy to feel the hatred burning off him, but it’s not just hatred for me, it’s hatred for everything.
“Or I’ll put you in the fucking ground,” he growls, moving closer so we are nearly nose-to-nose.
“I’d like to see you try.”
And he does. Punch after punch, we go for it. Neither of us caring how badly we hurt the other, and honestly, it feels fucking good. Years of pent-up frustrations, anger, and hatred—from his side and now mine.
Somehow, we collapse to the ground, and he’s on me, whaling at my head, and I’m able to block most of them. But eventually, I get sick of being hit and throw him off me with as much force as I can manage. Elijah’s back hits the wall. He glares at me, breathing hard.
“You’re a fucking piece of shit, Larson. You know that? Just like your good-for-nothing, murderer of a father.”
“Say whatever the fuck you want, Elijah. Get it out because I’m not here to fight over that bullshit.”
“Then why are you here?”
He still doesn’t get it, and at this point, I wonder if he ever will or if he’s so lost up his own ass and in his own misery that he will be blind to everything else forever. That would crush Winnie, so I really hope that’s not the case.
“For your sister, my girlfriend.” And soon to be my baby mama. Winnie didn’t mention anything about her telling him that much, and I’m certainly not going to do it. My head is already throbbing.
“Stop. Fucking. Saying. That.”
“Sure, but it doesn’t make it any less real.”
Elijah drops his head back against the wall. “Why did you have to do this to me?” His voice is so low I hardly hear it.
My eyebrows pinch, and on shaky arms and legs, I crawl to the lamppost nearest to me and lean against it. “What the fuck does me being with Winnie have to do with you?”
“You still don’t get it, do you?”
“I can’t get something you’ve never told me, E. You hated me because of who my dad is, which I fucking get, trust me—no one gets it more than me. But then it was because of fucking Zoey. Sure, it looked bad, but I was your best friend and you didn’t even let me explain. Even after she told you nothing happened, that still wasn’t good enough. Nothing I have ever done for you has been good enough, and I’ve accepted that. We’re not friends, I’ve heard you loud and clear, but friends or not, I love your sister, and she loves me. I care about her more than anyone, and I’m sorry, but I’m not going anywhere. So either you accept it or you don’t.
“But I would suggest accepting it because all you’re doing is hurting your sister. I don’t give a fuck if you hate me anymore, but Winnie does. And you don’t see how much it hurts her knowing you hate me.”
Elijah levels his stare, and for the first time in a long fucking time, it’s not just hatred I see. It’s betrayal and hurt.
“That’s the problem,” he grumbles, then forces himself to his feet. I climb to a stand after because, to my utter shock, I think we are getting somewhere.
“What is?”
He shakes his head, and I’ve had enough of these games. I’m tired, cold, and I just want to get to Winnie to make sure she’s okay.
I storm over—well, as well as my achy body will let me—only stopping once I’m toe to toe with him.
“Tell me the fucking problem, Elijah.”
“You always picked Winnie over me,” he snaps, and then immediately looks like he regrets saying anything. “Just fucking never mind.”
Elijah shoves past me, all while my head is spinning fifty miles a fucking second.
“You were my best friend.”
He freezes, his back facing me, and shakes his head. “No I wasn’t. I was the brother of your real best friend.”
What the hell is he talking about?
“Don’t play stupid, Reese. I know you would talk to Winnie about shit at home. You talked to her more than you ever talked to me. Time and time again, you picked her. Inviting her to always hang with us. She tagged along to everything because of you. Winnie never made her own friends because you were always there, and you took advantage of that.”
No words come to mind because… he’s right. I didn’t do any of it on purpose, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s right. I liked Winnie’s company. She was easier to talk to than anyone else, but I never really tried with Elijah. I didn’t want to look weak in front of another guy, but with Winnie… I don’t know, everything was different. From the first moment her eyes landed on me, I never wanted to be anything other than what I was. Never had to pretend to be strong when I felt weak. She accepted me for who I was and was not.
“I didn’t realize it bothered you.”
He scoffs. “Of course you fucking didn’t. Your head has been so far up Winnie’s ass since day one, you didn’t notice anything else.”
“Eli—”
“I needed you.” His voice shakes, and my heart stops. The world around me slows down, and a glimpse of the old Elijah punches me in the gut. “When my dad died, I needed my best friend.”
“I didn’t think you wanted me around.”
“At first, I didn’t, but you didn’t even try. You walked away that night without a fucking word. You took my anger and just accepted it. Ten years of friendship down the drain.”
This doesn’t make sense to me. In fact, it really kind of pisses me off that he is blaming me. “I did try.” My voice is tight. “I came by the house every day, and you shut me out.”
“I shut you out because you came by the house every day, but whose room were you in every night?”
“That’s not fair,” I bite out.
“No, of course it’s not fucking fair. I was in my room self-destructing while you comforted my sister. I had no one, Reese. Fucking no one.”
“What about your mom?”
Elijah turns his head to the side, his bruised and bloody face lit by the streetlamp, and his short dark hair plastered to his head, I’m not sure from sweat or blood.
“It was never about your dad being a piece of shit or you fucking—or not fucking—Zoey. It was about you being a shitty friend.”
Elijah storms away, and I do the same. There’s nothing I could say right now to make things better because I don’t know what to fucking say. All these years, I blamed him for ruining our friendship. I blamed my dad, Zoey. I blamed everyone besides who actually did it.
Me.
I believed Elijah was blind to how close I was to Winnie, but it seems no one was as blind as I thought. I’m not sorry for how close I was to Winnie, but I am sorry for how he feels. I never wanted to abandon him. When I found out it was my dad who killed his, I felt a lot of things. Embarrassment, guilt, anger. They were all there. Elijah lashed out at me. I knew how he felt, and I was selfish and didn’t want to be around someone who was mad at me. Winnie was never angry with me. Now I know Elijah wasn’t either—not for that reason. I should have been his punching bag, let him get whatever he needed to off his chest, but instead, I cowered away, protected myself, and let him flounder.
