“Okay,” I say, trying to keep my tone level. “But I shouldn’t hate him?”
“No, you probably should a little bit,” she says. “It makesmehate him a little bit. But it’s also complicated because I know he’s coming from a place of love and also a place of fear, and sometimes we do crazy things when we’re trying to deal with our past.” She takes a steadying breath. “Especially when that past involves quite a bit of trauma.”
I spare her a quick glance before forcing my eyes back to the road. She isn’t admitting much, but she’s telling me more than she’s told me before. “I get that,” I say, thinking of Theo and how badly he hurt Rebecca even though that was never his intent. Or maybe itwashis intent, but not because he didn’t love her. He just couldn’t letherlove him, so he had to push her away the only way he knew how. “I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt if you want me to.”
She nods, biting her lip. “He thinks you’re only encouraging me to get an O-1 visa because it’s less likely to work, and as long as I can’t get myownvisa, I’ll have to stay married to you.”
I grip the steering wheel a little tighter. “Why would I do that?”
“He thinks…you’re in love with me, I guess? And now you’re doing whatever it takes to keep me here.”
I choke out a disbelieving laugh because the idea of doing something like that is so completely ridiculous. Who would want to be married to a woman who didn’t choose it?
“Marriage by coercion isn’t really my style, Sarah.” I force myself to keep breathing, but it’s hard not to rail against the misjudgments Miles is making right now.
“I know. I absolutely know that. He’s just angry that I’m refusing his help,” Sarah says. “He doesn’t think I’m making a practical choice, and I guess it feels easier to blame you for that than me.”
I’m angry that he thinks I would ever manipulate his sister like that. I’mmoreangry that he has so little faith in her skill that, despite her continually showing him evidence of her success, he keeps harping on the teaching thing. I’m angry that he doesn’t respect me enough to just talk to me, man to man, so he canaskme what I think of Sarah’s art. That instead, he’s choosing to intimidate. To throw his weight around as Sarah’s “big brother” and my team captain.
But none of that is as important as making sure Sarah knows I would never do such a thing. I would never lie to her or push her to do anything that wasn’t inherbest interests. Honestly, I would love for her to have her own visa. At least then, if we were together, I would know it was only because she wanted to be. Not because I was her ticket to staying with her family.
I can’t tell her that part, but Icanreassure her that I would never do what Miles is suggesting.
“Sarah—”
“I know,” she says, cutting me off.
My eyebrows lift.
“I know you would never do that,” she continues. “When Anna told me, I was immediately certain it wasn’t a possibility. That’s not who you are, and I know that.”
Her words immediately diffuse some of the tension coursing through my body. “I’m glad,” I say. “Because I would never?—”
“I know,” she says, more gently this time. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. I’m not worried that any part of what he said is true.”
This trips me up the slightest bit. Because one part of what Miles said might be true.
I might be in love with his sister. Or at least on my way there.
And it’s getting harder and harder to deny it.
23
CARTER
Sarah spendsa lot of time at Anna and Miles’s house over the next week. Which is great because that’s one of the biggest reasons she wanted to stay in the States in the first place. To support her family.
The downside is that I’m left with a lot of time to miss her. With the exception of one quick away game in North Carolina, I’ve mostly been home. And somehow, I’ve started measuring time in segments of how long it’s been since I saw Sarah last and how long it’s going to be until I see her again.
When I’m at the driving range with Theo and Holly, I’m wondering if she’s still at the hospital with Anna or if she’s returned home.
When I’m at the rink for practice, I’m imagining her at the park with Poppy and Olive or sneaking into Anna’s pantry for a moment of solitude.
I’m leaving for nine days on the road tomorrow, so tonight, I’m making her dinner. I’m not an amazing chef by any stretch. But the chicken scallopini I’m making is one my mom used to make all the time, and it’s pretty muchfoolproof. Add in some roasted broccolini and the sourdough Sarah made yesterday and it should be a decent meal.
Down the hall, the door to the garage opens and closes, then Sarah appears in the kitchen.
“Hey,” I say as I take in the sight of her. Her hair is up—I love her hair up—and she’s wearing a cropped t-shirt that reveals a tiny sliver of skin above the waistband of her leggings. She looks beautiful, like always, but she also looks a little frayed around the edges. It could just be that she’s tired. She’s been going nonstop the past few weeks, first, with her gallery show, and now with all she’s doing for Anna and Miles.
