Page 128 of Tempting the Player
His expression is less than thrilled.
“I sleep in your clothes when I’m here anyway.” I drape my arms around his neck and lightly scratch my nails along his scalp. “You could stay at my place sometimes too.”
“Fine,” he mutters. “Take the top drawer in my dresser for anything you want to leave.”
“Really?” The idea of having my very own drawer in his room is almost as exciting as the prospect of the many, many more nights I plan to stay here.
“Yeah.” A resigned smile plays over his lips. “I’ve been thinking I need to give up this room anyway, so Brogan and Arch don’t have to share.”
“Where will you go?”
“I was thinking with all this time I have on my hands while looking for a job, I’d fix up the loft and move up there. Temporarily. Eventually I’ll get my own place, but I want to be here to help while Flynn finishes high school.”
“I love that idea,” I tell him as my heart squeezes in my chest. “Flynn will love it too.”
“Only if you come over all the time. He’ll be more heartbroken than me that you’re moving out.”
“Deal. Anything for Flynn.”
He makes a low growl in his throat and smacks my ass.
46
HENDRICK
Saturday afternoon,Knox and I start working on the loft. The basic structure is still good, but it needs a banister and new stairs at minimum. It’s a large enough space that if we put the bed on the far wall, Brogan will still have some privacy.
When I told everyone my plan for staying and that I was going to fix up the loft to give us more space, Brogan wouldn’t have it. He played it off like he actually wanted the loft, but I think part of him still feels like he doesn’t deserve to live here as much as the rest of us. It’s bullshit, but I’m not mad about still having a room with a door.
The TV is on some motorcycle race, but they’re still doing qualifiers so it’s not that exciting—at least to me. The stairs are done. We’ll need to sand and paint them, but we’ll get to that another day. Knox has abandoned work and is sitting on the bottom step watching TV. I grab a beer from the fridge and hand it to him. We haven’t talked much one-on-one since I told him I was staying, but I can tell he’s still not on board.
I watch with him until it goes to a break. He looks up at me like he didn’t even realize I was here.
“Ready to work on the banister?” I ask.
He nods, takes another long gulp of his beer, and then sets it down on the floor before heading up the new stairs of the loft.
We work in silence for another thirty minutes or so until I can’t take it.
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” He narrows his gaze at me. “What for?”
“For leaving and then not coming back when I knew you needed me to. You shouldn’t have been the one to drop out of school and take care of everyone.”
“We both did our part,” he says simply and dismisses me by picking up the next board.
“Can we just have this conversation once and for all instead of dancing around it?”
He drops the board slowly and faces me, an expression I can’t quite read on his face. “We don’t need to have this conversation.”
“I think we do.”
“You think I’m mad that you left, and you didn’t come back, but you’re wrong. Or, fuck, maybe I was, but I’m mostly pissed that you don’t realize how fucking lucky you are. You were Hendrick Holland, pro football player for the Rams.” He raises both arms in the air.
Technically true, but it isn’t like that. “I haven’t played in years and when I did, I wasn’t even that good.” I had promise, but I was still finding my footing when I got injured.
“But this season could be different. And even if it’s not, you left and you made something of yourself. You think I wanted you to give that up?” He shakes his head. “I knew it had to be me and I don’t resent you for that. I resent that you’re not fighting like hell to stay gone. There’s nothing for you here and you know it.”
