Page 74 of Hard Count
“I know. You eat half the jar every time we’re at your dad’s house.”
My head drops hearing him mention my dad.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought him up.”
“It’s fine. He wrote letters. Almost every day and my mom never gave them to me. I’m not sure what to do. I need to talk to him but I don’t know what to say or where to start.”I sit down in the corner of the couch and tuck my left leg under me.
“What do you want to say?”
“I’m sorry.” I tilt my head back and combat the tears threatening to fall.
“You didn’t do anything wrong. You were a kid. You’ve said it yourself. You were trapped in the middle of your mom and dad.”
“I lived with her my entire life. I should have figured out that she was a manipulative bitch. My own mom,” I say with a sigh.
“I went to your dad’s this morning. I needed to get the pictures but I also wanted to talk to him.” He watches me as I chew my food looking for any sign he should stop talking. “He loves you Drew. He didn’t give me many details about the past but it was obvious that he loves you.”
“I don’t know what to say to him. How do you sift through years of hurt without causing more pain to each other?” I toy with a French fry before popping it in my mouth. It tastes like ash.
“Maybe you have to let it all go and start over. Wipe the slate clean. What was it like when it was just the two of you?”
I take a long sip of my ginger ale. “It’s a little awkward at first. Every time I was dropped off I had to get to know him all over again. But when it was time for me to go back to my mom’s place, I didn’t want to leave.”
“I bet he didn’t want you to leave either.”
“We’re different people now. I don’t know how to connect with him anymore. What if we can't get back to what we had? What if it's all too late?” I take a small bite of my burger as questions spin around in my head. It isn’t sitting in my stomach as well as I’d hoped. I close the container and put it to the side.
“I can put that in the fridge for you. Maybe try again later,” he says, standing and walking to the kitchen. I tuck my legs against my chest and wrap my arms around them.
Nash sits beside me and lifts me onto his lap. I wrap my arms around him and lay my head on his shoulder. “I’m ruining your surprise. You went out of your way and I'm messing it up.”
“You’re not. It’s your party. You can cry if you want to,” he says choking back a laugh. I don’t know why that’s funny. I know it’s part of a song but…
“Oh god. I sang that last night didn’t I? Who told you?”
“You can thank Gage. I found it in our house group chat this morning. I never got to tell you how hot you were in my jersey. Are you going to tell me when you got it or where?”
I bite down on my lip. I don’t really want to talk about that right now either. Sighing, I say, “I may have bought it in high school.”
“Did you wear it to my high school games?”
“Oooh, are those presents?” I ask, reaching for one of the boxes he has on the coffee table. He stops me with a hand at the base of my neck and runs his nose up my jawline. “Yes,” I say, closing my eyes and savoring his touch.
“I’m sorryI missed seeing that. You can have your presents now.” He wraps his arm over my legs to hold me in place while he leans forward to get my gifts.
“I still can’t believe you did all of this for me,” I say looking around the room at all the decorations. “You didn’t have to. I never meant to guilt trip you into throwing me a birthday party.” I rub my thumb over the tattoo on my wrist.
Nash cups the side of my face in his hand. “Baby, I didn’t do this because I felt bad you didn't have birthday's growing up. I did it because I love you and I wanted to show you how important you are to me. From the first moment I saw you there was something about you that pulled me in.”
He loves me. I can't remember the last time someone's said that to me and meant it. My heart fills to the point it might explode. The cute boy I grew up watching from a distance has fallen in love with me. He stares back at me waiting for my reaction.
I need to tell him how I feel but the words are hard to put together. Instead, I lean further into his hand and kiss the inside of his wrist. “You did not like me. You were mad at me for insulting you. But I was also mad at you because I knew you weren’t playing at your full potential. It was pissing me off.”
He smiles knowingly. He's used to my diversionary tactics when it comes to expressing my feelings. God, this man is patient. “Your brutal honesty may have hurt but it got us here. Even if you never said anything, I would have looked for you. I would have found you on campus and came up withanother excuse to talk to you. I don’t know if you would’ve agreed.”
“All you had to do was ask," I admit. "I would have said yes to anything. I didn’t want to help with football because of my dad. But for you, I would have done anything." I chew on my lip, weighing the pros and cons of telling him the truth. "I want to show you something. Give me a second. I’ll be right back.” I slide off his lap and rush to my room.
Flipping through a stack of photos I have stashed in my nightstand, I find the one I’m looking for. I pilfered these from my dad one weekend when he was out of town. I didn’t want him showing Nash this photo by accident after one of our dinners.
