I lay in bed in near silence and I realized that these days I sleep lighter, listening out for Nelson. Strangely, I don’t mind one bit. I still woke as early as Nelson would this morning and I was bored for hours before training. I drank my coffee alone and decided to have breakfast at the training facility because the house was too quiet.
I don’t know when it happened but my place has stopped feeling like home without Annie and Nelson in it.
They’re not even mine but it’s like I’m missing a limb when they aren’t around.
I don’t only want them in my life, I’m starting to need them in it.
It’s terrifying. I’ve seen how people let each other down. I’ve seen what happened to my mom every time she relied on a man. How my dad and Darcy’s dad hurt us. Yet, as scared as I am, I know there are only two people who can fix it.
As soon as I open the front door, before I’ve even set down my bag and keys, my foot slips on a wheeled toy and I dilute an expletive as I stagger to keep balance.
“Oh Lord, sorry, darlin’,” Betty says, rushing to me from the rug in the middle of the lounge floor, where she’s playing with Nelson.
I’m happy to defy a snapped spinal cord long enough to see Nelson drunk-tottering toward me, falling on his ass after a few steps. Cute. As. Hell.
“Don’t worry about it, Betty. It’s good to see you,” I tell her, bending to collect the toy bus that she takes from me.
“You, too, darlin’. Sorry about the game.”
I’m too busy rushing to scoop up Nelson to be down about the Bears’ loss anymore. It happens. No one died. We’ll get back on track.
“How’re you doin’, buddy?” I ask, holding Nelson above my head, delighting in his belly chuckle. I bring him to me and rub my beard into the crook of his neck. That never fails to get him squealing.
Then I raise him up and do the whole thing all over again. Until he lets rip on the biggest wet fart a man ever heard and the unmistakable stench of baby crap fills the air.
“O-oh,” Betty says, reaching out for Nelson. “Here, let me clean him up while you go say hi to Annie. She’s working on her project upstairs.”
But she isn’t because Annie is currently walking down the staircase into the lounge with that big wide smile on her face, eyes that look as alive as the hammering of my heart feels under my ribcage. She’s wearing one of my hooded sweaters and a pair of short shorts, slipper socks pulled up to her calves and long hair braided down her back.
I can’t feel my legs. So, I’m surprised when Annie reaches the bottom stair and they carry me across the lounge toward her. Rush me to her.
God, I’ve missed her so much. I’ve been so worried about her. But here she is, strong as ever, welcoming me home.
I forget everything else as my hand finds the nape of her neck, my other reaching for the small of her back, until her eyes bulge and it finally hits me that I can’t kiss her the way I want. The way we kissed in Dallas.
I pull her into a tight hug, head to my shoulder where I can only waste my kiss on her temple, not her mouth. Even so, my eyes close as I breathe her in, her perfume, her shampoo,her.
Everything in my torso is threatening to explode, my head is pounding as my blood thuds in my veins. She’d have to be dead to miss how much it’s killing me not to be with her.
“That’s quite a welcome home, Tanner Pace,” she says against my shoulder because I’m still holding on to her, not daring to pull away and let her see the truth written all over my face.
I don’t just admire her strength anymore.
I don’t just feel the need to help her because she’s been through a rough time.
I’m not only trying to help my teammate’s sister.
I love her.
I’minlove with her.
“Annie…” My words break as if someone upstairs is looking down on us and telling me to stop. Stop before I say something I can’t take back and I ruin our pinky promise. Stop before I give her someone else to think about, to feel guilty about, another pull on her that she doesn’t need.
I know this can’t happen. I need to swallow it.
But I can’t bring myself to smile as she nudges back from me, my hand still holding the nape of her neck. She sees it. I know because the smile she gives me is fake.
“I made lemonade,” she says, too high pitched to sound remotely normal. “Would you like a glass?”
