“Shit, really?” He looked over my shoulder, his brows drawing together in concern. His attention shifted back to me, and he put his arm around my shoulders. “Something no one tells you is how hard it is to have a sibling. Sure, it's fun when you’re growing up and you have a built-in friend, but as an adult, it’s not as easy.”
I’d never heard anyone say that before. He was so right. So damn right. He squeezed my shoulder and let go, taking his clean scent and warmth with him.
“My sister and I get into fights sometimes. They aren’t fun, but those tough conversations help trust grow.”
“But your sister didn’t do things to intentionally upset you.”
He tensed and let out a little laugh. “Not true. She dated this guy on my hockey team which was a total no-no. It worked out, but we yelled. We cussed. Love the guy now, but that’s not the point. Fighting is normal. It means the love is there. You’re hurting because you love your sister.”
“Huh. Interesting way to take it.” Was that why my chest felt stuffed with balloons? Because I loved Cami? I mean, of course I did, but we’d grown apart. We weren’t really friends. I rubbed a hand over my heart. “She acted like she had no idea about dating the guys I did. She puts on this act, and it makes me so mad I just…” My voice shook, and Michael’s face softened.
“When your reactions aren’t as fresh, I’d try to talk to her.”
“Why? I’m not sure this is something we can just get past.” I knew I sounded pouty and whiny, but I didn’t care. “I have friends I love, closer than sisters, really, so why make the effort when she just hurts me? Sometimes it feels like it wouldn’t be that much of a loss.”
Wow, the truth came out, and a disgusting, icky feeling flowed through me.
Lines appeared around his eyes, and he flexed his jaw, almost like I’d annoyed him. Guilt squeezed my stomach, like I did something wrong in saying that, and I blinked.
“Right?” I asked, needing him to understand that this hurt was years deep. Not just right now.
He ran a hand over his face, looking older and sad, and my heart flipped over. That sadness. I recognized it, but it looked so out of place on him. This charming, gorgeous hockey guy was all smiles and jokes, but with the slumped shoulders, the tense lines on his face...what had I done to upset him?
“Only you can answer that question, Naomi. Come on, let’s go meet your dad.” He motioned with his hand for me to go first, and I did, but I couldn’t shake the feeling I’d done something wrong.
I snuck glances at him as we walked toward the diner, the chilly morning air hitting my face, and Michael kept his attention forward. I replayed my words, and yes, they’d sounded harsh, but Cami had hurt me over and over while I kept letting her. The loss of our connection was already there but voicing it out loud like that was weird.
Mr. Chatty didn’t speak a word, and after a few minutes of silence, I reached out with my hand to stop him. Silence from him felt different. Heavier. I hated it. It was like an internal itch I couldn’t scratch, and I needed to find the root of it.
He walked into my hand, his toned stomach pressing against my wrist for two seconds before I pulled it back, like his sheer strength electrocuted my entire arm. Like a million ants crawled from where my fingers briefly dug into his stomach, all the way up my forearm and to my shoulder.
“Hey,” I said, swallowing the nervous ball that made my voice come out deeper than intended. “I feel like I upset you, and I don’t enjoy this feeling.”
“You didn’t upset me,” he said, no warmth to his tone. He might as well have been talking about the weather or taxes.It’s supposed to rain. Did you do your W-9?
“Michael, please,” I said, something in the lilt of my voice making him look at me. Pain swirled around his eyes, numbing my own issues.
What had him looking so sad? We stared at each other in an impasse of sorts, neither of us saying a word but I knew in my soul we were having a moment.
I didn’t know if it was a good or bad one, but when his tongue wet his bottom lip, I felt the motion low in my gut. “I’m sorry for whatever I did.”
He bit down on his lip as he let out a groan of frustration, and he rolled his shoulders back. “It’s really not you, I promise. I just…”
His face pinched together, and without thinking, I grabbed his forearm, like that touch would urge him to share his thoughts. I didn’t want him to hide from me. I already shared too much, and it would even the scales.
He studied my hand on his forearm, and he released a long breath that tickled my face. He cracked his neck side to side, his jaw set in determination. “My sister and I are the only ones still alive in my family. We lost our parents in a car accident a few years ago, so I have a different perspective when it comes to family. I don’t… don’t talk about it often, and I’m sorry my internal reactions came out. I didn’t intend for them to.”
My brain worked fast. It put the pieces together quickly, and I didn’t like the end picture.
“You’ve been listening to me complain about petty shit with my sister and dad when you lost your parents,” I said, absolutely hating myself. It felt like a gut punch. He had to think I was the worst. What a privileged life I led, bitching about my sister dating guys and my dad having insides jokes with her. They were alive.
My eyes stung for the second time that morning, and I wanted to throw up. “Oh my god,” I said, more to myself than Michael. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“What? No. No,” he said, stepping closer to me and putting a hand on my shoulder. His thumb touched my neck, and he grazed the skin there once, then twice. My body lit up from his touch. “I didn’t tell you to make you feel bad.”
“How can I not? My problems are so trivial compared to yours.”
“Stop.” He was pissed now. Flared nostrils, harsh tone. “This isn’t a competition of who deserves to be sad or upset. Life doesn’t work that way.”
