He flinched and opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. “You might think they’re silly because they aren’t a sport, but they are important. It promotes collaboration, fun, a way to show off pride for your house. It helps create a healthy culture for the girls. Most of them raise money for charities, Harrison. We raise thousands each year and collect canned goods and items for a women’s shelter. If you actually asked me about them, I could’ve told you.”
I was sick of men belittling what I did and what the girls stood for.Silly competitions.Throwing a ball to score points was silly! The level of my voice gave away my anger, but I didn’t care.
He shook his head, his mouth gaping before he said my name, loud. “Becca, stop.”
“What?” I arched both brows and thought about tossing him into the fire. He outweighed me by three times with all those muscles, but I’d figure it out. I was the house mom, and he insulted my house children.
“I’m sorry. I really am. I misspoke.” He rubbed his palms over his eyes and exhaled.
His warm breath hit my face, and I crossed my arms tight over my chest. He did look sorry, and seeing his turmoil helped ease the irritation brewing in my gut. But what he’d said was uncalled for in the first place. I wanted more—no, I deserved more—of an apology.
“Was that your entire explanation?” I arched a brow in challenge.
“No. I’m trying to figure out how to explain it in a way that doesn’t make me an asshole. This is… hard for me.”
“Having a conversation?”
He barked out a laugh, but it wasn’t filled with humor or warmth. More like sarcasm. “Honestly? Yes. I’m a bit of a recluse off the field, and I haven’t had women—anyone, really—at my house since my divorce. I say the wrong thing all the time, if I even speak at all. Trust me. It wasn’t my intention to insult you.”
“Then what was your point?”
“To compliment you.” The worry left his eyes, and a real smile transformed his already too-handsome face. “Your energy is contagious, and I’d bet my entire stash of firewood that you and your girls always kick ass.”
“Hm. Keep going.” I stuck my nose in the air.
I waited for him to grovel a bit more. He was getting the full Becca Fairfield without reservations.
“I have a bit of animosity toward those spirit weeks and competitions,” he explained. “The guys on the team refuse to do any of the bonding stuff, and I’ve tried to get them involved but they don’t care. I tried to sign us up for a race, to mow lawns on campus, or even to run a gym for younger kids. They just… I took out my issues with my team on you with that crass comment. I really am sorry. If I don’t understand an event, I’ll ask you about it first.”
I rubbed my lips together. Should I forgive him? He had no idea how many times people said something similar to me and didn’t apologize. He had done it, twice. But he apologized. Plus, his comment about the team piqued my curiosity. He had a great reputation, from the little I knew about him. He hid his struggle well.
“What’s going on with your team? I didn’t realize you were having issues with them.”
Instead of answering, his jaw tightened, and he shook his head, his narrowed eyes ending the conversation.
Okay then.No questions about the football team.
My chest tightened like I’d somehow wronged him. The constant unknown exhausted me.
“Should we play another round or something?” I asked, hoping to stop the growing frown on his face. “I’ll even give you a five-second head start since I’m feeling nice.”
“Later. We’ll do a rematch later.” He pushed up from the recliner and set the side table back in place. He didn’t glance my way once as he placed another log on the fire and walked toward the kitchen.Great. Cool.
My blizzard buddy wanted to avoid me, and I had no idea why.
CHAPTER SIX
HARRISON
You have no consideration for anyone who doesn’t play for you!My ex-wife’s words bounced around my head as I gripped the edge of the counter. I’d disregarded most of her criticisms, but now, with Becca in my house, her lips turned down on the sides, maybe my ex had been right. Hadn’t I thought the same thing about Hank, that he didn’t care about anyone but himself?
I turned up the volume on the radio, filling the silence I’d caused with holiday music. Becca wanted to play another round of Speed, but I needed a breather. My brain short-circuited around her and brought out all the things I sucked at.
Communication. Being fun and carefree. And currently, the lack of leadership for a group of guys unwilling to commit to each other. Hell, they wouldn’t even commit to a season. I pinched the bridge of my nose.
Becca shifted in the same position on the couch. I glanced over at her, preparing myself for some hurt behind her soft brown eyes, but she didn’t look in my direction. Instead, she held a book with the wordmurderin the title and angled it toward the small window next to the couch. She grunted and shifted her weight again and then repeated the process a third time. I watched her for a full minute before she tossed her book onto the floor.
“Do you care if I move a kitchen chair or something closer to the back window for more light?” Glancing my way, she scrunched her nose. Lines etched her brow, and even her tone lacked her typical joy.
