“You must think I’m awful for saying that then.”
He didn’t respond right away, and my gut twisted. This entire time, I thought Cami was the villain in our story, taking our dad and intentionally upsetting me. But his few seconds of silence made me wonder if I was to blame too.
“I don’t believe you’re awful, Naomi. Not at all.” His thumb brushed my cheek again, and he dropped his hand. His deep voice felt like a comforting hug, and half his mouth lifted with a grin. “Not even a little bit. I think family is complicated and that pain is a moveable scale.”
“I had no idea of your past, Michael,” I said, my nose getting stuffy and my head fuzzy. “I can’t even process it.”
“You don’t need to.” He smiled again, no more sorrow in his eyes. “I’m not giving you advice because you didn’t ask for it, but if I may suggest something…” he paused, arched a brow, and I nodded a little too fast.
He could suggest just about anything and I’d agree to it just to get the horrible pang out of my chest.
“Yes, of course, yes,” I said.
“Take whatever time you need to, but,” he said, pausing, a small twitch in his left eye. “You have an opportunity to change things. You’re on campus with her. Life goes fast, and I can only share my experience, but I miss the hell out of my sister. We’d get weekly lunches where I’d annoy her, or my teammates would pick on her. You’re going to graduate soon and move, and it’ll get harder to communicate, see her, and figure out the conflict between you.”
My entire body pounded at his words. He was right, but I wanted to stomp my foot and disagree. He didn’t know how much she hurt me, how much I’d wanted a sister the last few years. But I chewed the inside of my cheek and nodded.
“I can literally feel smoke coming out of your ears, Fletcher.” He flashed a quick grin and jutted his chin toward the diner. “I’m happy to talk to you about this anytime you want.” He shrugged and ran a hand through his hair, giving me another sinful glance at his biceps. I sighed, pushing out all the negative thoughts about Cami.
This wonderful guy suffered through losing his parents and still found ways to laughandtalk to me about my petty shit. I could fix this with Cami. I had to. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to her and we never resolved...this issue between us.
Michael had helped me see that. A different kind of warmth spread from my chest to my fingers, more than lust or kinship. Trust, a longing for him. The morning sun hit his face perfectly, showcasing his dark hair and gorgeous blue eyes. There really was something magnetic about him.
He held the door for me, wiggling his eyebrows as he said, “Let’s go, nerd.”
I walked past him, taking in his clean scent, and it hit me. I felt some sort of way for Michael Reiner.
I was screwed.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Michael
Michael: Facetime later
Ryann: Wow, not even an ask. That was a demand.
Michael: Today’s a day I hate not being at Moo U.
Ryann: I want to give you shit for going thousands of miles away, but I won’t. Yeah, we can Facetime. Miss you.
I scratched a hand over my chest a few times, feeling Naomi’s watchful gaze at the diner. People at Central didn’t know my tragic past. It was easy to dodge questions about my family by saying they were out east. It wasn’t a lie. My family—meaning Ryann—was out east. One major reason I’d left home was because everyone knew my story there. Here, no one did.
Sharing that with Naomi felt like I checked off a box I didn’t mean to. She hadthatlook. The narrowed eyes, the sympathy etched on her face. The urge to confide everything in her kept growing, and I didn’t want that. I avoided her gaze and focused on Coach instead.
“I can’t decide between the hash browns, toast, or eggs,” he said, flipping the menu over and squinting at the back. “What’re you eating? Wait, don’t answer that. You’re young and in shape.”
“Can’t go wrong with fruit, sir,” I said, adding just a bit of humor to my voice. He eyed me before setting the menu down and shoving it to the side.
“Naomi, order whatever you want. It’s on me today.”
“Thanks, Dad,” she said, her tone a little softer than normal. I wondered if she was thinking about the news I shared, how I lost my parents. Was she realizing how lucky she was to have her sister and dad here? Or would she let her grievances get in the way?
“So, post-game analysis. I’ve had some time to think about last night’s game and how we can make adjustments before our home opener in two weeks. But, future-hockey-coach, I want to hear from you. If they were your team, what would you say to them when we meet this afternoon?”
My gut reaction would be to not talk about the game at all and do an activity that required teamwork but suggesting as much felt risky. I’d already crossed a line by saying something to Cal last night. I scratched my jaw and took a breath, hoping to buy myself some time. “Well, I’d ask the captains what they thought.”
“Good start. What else?”
