Page 24 of Tempting the Player
“Thanks.”
“Is your dad still...around?” I realize I don’t know how to phrase these personal questions. I don’t usually interrogate people like this, but he makes getting to know him very difficult.
Thankfully, he doesn’t wait for me to finish. “Nah, he wasn’t around much to begin with, but he took off for good a few years ago.”
My heart breaks for him. And for his brothers.
“How old were you?”
His brows pinch together like he doesn’t understand the question.
“You said your mom died when Archer was twelve. You couldn’t have been more than what, sixteen?” I know he’s older than Archer, but he hasn’t given me enough information to know exactly how much older.
“Seventeen.” He nods. “I’m the oldest.”
I do some quick math in my head and figure out that Hendrick is twenty-five.
“I can see that. You have that whole oldest sibling vibe about you.”
A short snort is his only response.
“Who looked after you and your brothers once she passed away?”
“No one.” He shrugs. “Dad popped in enough that we avoided too many people realizing that we were mostly on our own. We made sure we did what we needed not to draw any attention to us. None of us wanted to be sent away or separated.” He shrugs again like it’s no big deal.
“Why do I get the feeling that most of that burden came down on you?”
“It wasn’t a burden,” he says simply.
“I just mean it must have been hard.”
He smiles stiffly, and I’m sure I’ve just led us down the worst party-conversation path ever, but Hendrick surprises me by asking me a question. “What was it like growing up as an only child?”
“How’d you know I was an only child?”
He hesitates and then asks, “You are, aren’t you?”
“That obvious?” I laugh. “It was fine. I was always good at playing make believe and entertaining myself. Plus, once I started acting, that was a little like having another family.”
“Do you miss it?”
“I don’t know if anyone’s really asked me that,” I say as I stare down at my lap.
He doesn’t push me, just waits for me to decide to answer. I think I like that about him.
“Yes and no, I guess. I miss performing in front of people, but I don’t know if I really miss that life.”
“I get that.”
“Right. I almost forgot. You lied to me.” I bump his shoulder with mine.
He freezes and his mouth falls open like he’s about to offer an apology.
“Why didn’t you just tell me you were a big shot professional football player when I was peppering you with questions at the bar, Hendrick Holland?” I like saying his full name out loud. I’ve never heard of him, but his incredibly muscular body makes total sense now.
Relief washes over his features. “How did you figure it out?”
“I heard some guys talking about it while we were playing beer pong. I get it. Trying to stay under the radar. Trust me, I get it.”
