Page 76 of Hard to Score

And as much as I want to shout from the rooftops that my father had nothing to do with Gary’s scandal, it’s not the time nor place to. In this moment, there’s nothing I’m going to say to Drew that will undo a lifetime of being told the sky is green when it’s actually blue.

My eyes well with tears, and unfortunately, I can’t blink them away before he looks up and finally meets my gaze. The problem is the emotion in his—the worry, the confusion, the discord—only makes me sadder.

“So is this the battle we face? The rift that will always be between us?” I ask.

The muscle in his jaw pulses as he tries to figure out his answer. “That’s why I said from the first night that the past is off limits.”

I blink away the tears wetting my eyelashes and shift to stare at the lake beyond. The breeze has put ripples in it while some spots remain still like glass. Just another reminder that we’ve both been touched differently by the same events.

He scoots up behind me so that his legs frame mine and my back is to his front. His chin finds my shoulder and his arms pull me against him.

“I’m working on figuring it out, Brex. You—this—is unexpected and awesome, and I have to undo years of being protective of shit I don’t even know the whole story of. So bear with me and don’t let it ruin whatever this is, because just like you needed seeing those handprints today to bring you back, I feel the same way about you.” He presses a kiss to my bare shoulder. “There’s something here, something worthy of first dates even when we’ve already had sex.”

I slide my hands over his and close my eyes. Sure, the scenery before me is gorgeous and inspiring, but so is the man at my back. I have to have faith that we’ll figure this all out.

“You said your dad was sick,” I murmur.

“ALS.” There is no emotion to his voice but those three letters are devastating in and of themselves. He clears his throat and clarifies further. “Sporadic ALS.”

“I’m sorry.” Two words he said to me about my mom, and even though I know from experience that they mean so little in the face of loss, I hope he knows that I am sincerely sorry that he will experience such loss with his dad. My knowledge is limited on the disease, but I do know that there is no full recovery from it.

“It’s slight right now. The tremors. But it’s like jumping over that cliff you were talking about—even with a parachute, you know the end is going to be fast and painful.”

I nod, because I understand what he means. I’ve already gone through the hell of losing a parent and he’s diving headfirst into it. The question is, is it better to be blindsided by it or to see it coming at you?

He presses a kiss to my shoulder and unexpectedly begins to tickle me. There’s nothing like fingers on a ribcage to break up a heavy conversation. I wiggle out of his arms and laugh like a hyena.

“Stop. Please stop.” I giggle as he holds me in place with one hand while letting his fingers dance over my skin with the other. “I’ll give you anything, anything, to stop.”

“Anything?” he asks as his hand stops, his chuckle suggestive. “I’m trying to be on my best behavior here. Don’t tempt me.”

“Yes. I forgot,” I say in my primmest voice. “My apologies, kind sir.”

He chuckles and presses a kiss against the back of my head. “How about this instead?”

“What?”

“This.” Drew proceeds to draw something on my back with his finger.

“What are you . . . ” But my smile is automatic when I figure out what he’s drawing. Does he really remember that conversation like I do? The one about initials on football helmets and hands during homecoming and trying to get past first base or is this just some crazy coincidence? He traces the two letters again. DB.

What was the term he used that day way back when? A sap. Yes. That’s it.

“Are you becoming a sap, Drew Bowman?”

“Me? A sap? I don’t exactly think that’s a word one would use to describe me.” He laughs.

“Sap or not, you’ve got it backwards. It was me who was desperate to have my initials on your hand after that conversation. I was so jealous of Ginnie whatshername. You wore her initials and you were trying to get past first base with her.”

Drew throws his head back and laughs. “Damn that Ginnie Huber. I do believe you and I have long since passed first base.”

“I still want the initials on your hand,” I tease.

“Here,” he says and holds out his hand. “It’s all yours.”

I hold a hand to my chest and feign excitement. “For me? The dreamy football player is going to wear my initials?”

“He is.”