Oh God.
I gaze at him, shocked and place my lavender tea on the small end table wedged between the heads of our chaise longues. It’s still too hot to drink and I don’t want to have this conversation while holding it. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Thane. Do you want to talk about it?”
Again, he appears like he’s debating how much he should share. Michaela never spoke much about her brother, let alone her Mom and Dad. I don’t know what her family life was like prior to the accident, and I’ve never dared to pry. As someone who’s been an orphan my whole life, I know that parents are a sore subject.
Thane sighs. “Not much to say. I’m just wracked with guilt.”
I’m not expecting him to say that. “Why?”
He copies me by depositing his mug on the end table too and clasping his hands together. If he stretches his fingers, they’ll touch my knees. I find myself holding my breath, wishing for just that. Or the opportunity to braid our fingers together. I wonder how his skin will feel against mine? Will it be callused from years of playing and coaching football? Will it make the infinite longing inside my chest grow to an unsurmountable height?
“My last memory with them?” He shakes his head, as if physically trying to rid himself of it. “We got into a fight. Theysaid I was selfish, rarely visiting home or calling to check-in with them. In a way, they were right. I was twenty-three, away for college, playing football, and living my best life. But I didn’t stop to think that the people in my family needed me too. I…I was just thinking of myself.” His jaw clenches. “The way most young people do at that age. And before I knew it, everything changed in the blink of an eye. They got into an accident and died. The shock and grief of it all flipped my entire world around. I wish I’d hugged them one more time—I wish I’d told them how much I loved them one more time. I felt like a failure of a son, someone who abandoned those who cared for him because I was busy chasing my dreams.”
There’s a lump in my throat. This is all so awful to hear.
“I’m so sorry, Thane.” Unable to help myself, my hands shoot out and grip his. He jerks at the contact, baffled, but instead of pulling away, he unclasps his hands and just…let’s me twine ours together. As predicted, his fingers are slightly callused, but his hands are warm and strong. He sucks in a centering breath and I swear I see a sense of peace flitting in his expression. “Do you regret not going pro and raising Michaela instead?”
He stares at our hands like they hold every answer in the universe. “No. Because family is everything. I learned my lesson too late.” His fingers squeeze mine like he needs a tighter grip to hold himself steady. “I couldn’t be on the road and take care of Michaela. She was only thirteen then, a kid. She needed stability and a routine. It was my responsibility to provide it for her. After my parents’ accident, I lost my zest for football. My heart wasn’t in it anymore. So quitting and taking care of Michaela was a no-brainer.”
My heart aches, imagining these two siblings trying to navigate their grief together, and a twenty-three-year-old Thane trying to parent a thirteen-year-old Michaela to the best of his ability.
“You were so young, raising Michaela on your own,” I say. “I couldn’t imagine it being easy.”
He shrugs a broad shoulder like it was no biggie. “It wasn’t hard, until she hit her rebellious teenage phase and that…” he chuckles awkwardly. “Yeah, that was tough. I was hard on her a lot of times, for her own good, and I hope she realizes that. I never meant to be an overbearing presence in her life or to take our dad’s place, but I became fearful of losing Michaela the same way I lost them, so I was quite strict. I don’t blame her for dipping out of this house the moment she turned eighteen.”
And yet Thane stuck around, almost haunted and chained by the memories of their past. I wondered if he stayed here, not only because he didn’t want to leave the one place that reminded him of his parents, but because he felt like he had no choice?
He feels guilty and this house is his own figurative prison to depict all that he’s lost.
It breaks my heart just to think about it.
“For what it’s worth, I think Michaela knows you meant well. She realizes the sacrifices you made for her and she’s grateful, even if she hasn’t found the right words to tell you.” His gaze flies to mine, surprised, and there’s so much hope in there that something inside of me flares. I add, “You’re a good brother, Thane, and I’m sure you were a good son too. I saw your family pictures and the way your parents looked at you. They adored you. I don’t think they resented you chasing your dreams—maybe they were just lonely without you—and they definitely wanted the best for you and Michaela. If they were alive right now, I’m sure they’d be very proud of you both.”
Thane’s green eyes are bright with emotions.
Goodness gracious, he’s so handsome.
On the field, he’s a force to be reckoned with, an imposing figure barking orders at his players, a god waiting to be obeyed. In the darkness of the night, illuminated by a shard of moonlightpassing through the solarium windows, he’s otherworldly, grander than anything my dreams could have concocted. And I want to touch him. Want to remember what it’s like to trace the black ink running from his arms to his chest. Want to feel the ridges of his abs. Want to feel the hardness of his thighs under my ass. Want to feel his lips against mine.
“Thank you, Marlow,” he rasps. “For your kind words.”
I smile and squeeze our joined hands, my heart leaping in my chest. “You’re welcome. If you get the chance, talk to Michaela. She’ll like to hear what’s on your mind and I have a feeling she’ll want to share the things that are on hers. It’ll be good for you both.”
I don’t need to outright say that Michaela regrets leaving the way she did or that she misses him. He senses it and it’s best he hears it directly from my best friend than myself.
Thane’s response is to bring our joined hands to his mouth and press a tender kiss on my knuckles.
I gasp under my breath, almost inaudibly. The touch of his lips sears me from top to bottom. The well of my desire for this man grows deeper.
I swallow and to diffuse the tension, ask, “What did you do after college, when you decided to no longer pursue a professional career in football?”
Thane’s hungry expression doesn’t dissolve, but he still answers me. “I worked some odd jobs for a while to keep myself occupied until an old buddy of mine called me up saying your college desperately needed a football coach and I stepped up to the position. It worked out in the end. I got to stay in the city, take care of Michaela, and devote the rest of my time to my passion, but in a different way. It’s rewarding helping young athletes accomplish their dreams. I see myself in a lot of them.”
“And a lot of your players have gone pro, right?”
He gives me a rare half-grin that I love and want to remember for years to come. “Keeping tabs on me, little cheerleader?”
Little cheerleader. I swallow. Fuck, I want to hear him call me that when we get down and dirty. Want him to command me with that title and show him what a good girl I can be.
