Page 52 of Presley's Christmas Catch
Her expression turns patient. “I’m not saying you need to say that you have feelings for him. I’m saying you can tell him that yesterday was confusing, and you’d like to know more about how he feels about it. Like grownups.”
I let out something between a moan and a sigh. “So much easier said than done. I need him to admit something to me. I can’t be chasing him around like some obsessed fan.”
“Presley …”
I hold up a hand. “Mom. Pretend for five seconds that I’m not your perfect daughter that every man I come in contact with can’t help but fall in love with?—”
“If they all haven’t, they should have their eyes checked,” Dad interrupts from his recliner.
I wave a hand around in his direction. “Not helping. Mom, can you pretend like I’m a normal girl for a few minutes and be logical about this?”
“Definitely not.” She shrugs.
I sigh. “Talking to him won’t help if he doesn’t realize what’s going on. I just have to make him see it.”
“Maybe suggest an appointment with the eye doctor,” Dad says.
“Go back to your reading, old man. See if you can finish this series before you loseyoursight.”
He throws a pillow at me and immediately gets scolded by Mom. My parents are the best.
CHAPTER 22
BROCK
I texted Lincoln so early this morning that it’s not surprising that he doesn’t respond until I’m already on my way into the facility for practice.
“What does that mean?” My phone reads the text to me. “I’ve scoured social media. You didn’t say anything stupid yesterday, and everything is about how you’re so hot because you love some nerdy book series.”
I don’t bother responding. I’ll talk to him at practice.
He’s waiting for me when I come into the weight room at eight a.m. It feels a lot earlier, given the lack of sleep I got last night. Yesterday was all worth it, though. I’d do it all again for the joy in Presley’s face.
“What did you mean?” Lincoln falls into step with me as I head to the rack to start my strength workout. There’s worry in his eyes, but his expression looks like he’s trying to stay calm.
“I messed up with Presley,” I say to ease his mind on the football front.
If anything, his expression gets tighter. I don’t blame him. Chelsi, the only other female trainer on staff, is already married. The guys have a protective big-brother vibe going on with Presley.
“I’m not going to jump to conclusions,” he says, his tone level. “Hurry up and explain.”
So I do. I tell him about how I realized I’d do anything to get Presley what she wanted, what it felt like to hold her in my arms, the warmth I felt holding her hand and when I put my hand on her knee. How I pulled her close on the plane to read the book with her.
By the time I’m finished, Lincoln is grinning from ear to ear. “So, you like her,” he finishes for me.
“Yeah, and somehow I didn’t see it until it was too late.” Was it the fact that the way I felt crept up on me? That it happened so slowly I didn’t realize it was there until she was in my arms and I was carrying her to safety? I don’t want to over-dramatize that moment when she fell, but my fear that she could’ve been seriously hurt was real. It was like everything was pulled out of me for a moment, and when it all came rushing back in, it was obvious how I felt about her.
The stuff I was looking for—the way Kurtis spoils my mom, how Lincoln always wants to be around Layla, the way Tim can’t keep his eyes off Meg—it was all there suddenly, but in the little things.
I do want to give Presley the world, but not the gifts like Kurtis does. I want to give her comfort with her grief over her Aunt Shannon when it rises up. I want to make her laugh with my silly theories about the books. Yesterday, I wanted to give her the answers she couldn’t find on her own, and I was willing to be a fool on social media for her to do it.
And from the moment I held her in my arms, the way I’ve been orbiting around her since day one became evident. The texts I answer after my bedtime. The person I wanted to talk to when the Devils dropped me was her. When I thought our friendship was lost, it hurt.
I fell in love with Presley Tatum little by little and never saw it because I thought it had to look like everyone else’s relationships.
“What do you mean ‘too late’?” Lincoln’s question pulls me out of my thoughts. He’s waving Eli over, and Anthony Hurley follows in Eli’s wake.
I should have foreseen where this confession would lead me. I only have myself to blame now. “Yeah,” I reply. “I can’t just tell her how I feel after I shut her down like I did. Plus she’s a trainer for the team. I’m not sure that’s even … ethical or whatever.” I can’t break rules, not when I just got here. But staying away from Presley also feels impossible.
