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Bryan hooked an arm around her waist and spoke into her hair. “Football unites men. Sometimes it brings a tear to my eye.”
She couldn’t help giggling as she elbowed him. “Yeah, well, you better hope you put out and get in that outfit for me or else you’ll cry for a different reason. It’s called spending the night alone with your hand.”
Despite the darkness, his eyes gleamed. “Oh, you can bet I’ll put out, darlin’.”
She should have felt cold in the night’s chill, but the way he pulled her against his side flooded her with heat. “I’ll follow you back to—”
“Nah, I’ll drive us to your place,” he said. “I need to get away from that hotel room tonight.”
“Really?” Arms linked, they walked to his truck. “I thought you enjoyed staying in all the finest establishments. Not that Haven measures up, of course.”
“I’m kind of over the hotel thing. No matter how fine they are, it’s still living out of a suitcase, and I guess I’m getting too old for that shit.”
If he’d clocked her in the face, she probably wouldn’t have been more surprised. “You’re not old.”
“No. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen and done amazing things. But after a while, when there’s an endless parade in front of you, you forget to really look.” He squeezed her hand and unlocked the passenger door of his truck before ushering her inside. “Up you go.”
She waited until he’d joined her in the cab of his truck to snap her seatbelt and turn to face him in her seat. “You drove your truck up here when it would’ve been easier to fly. Why not bring your dog and stay in your old house? It’s standing empty, isn’t it?”
“Funny you should mention that. That’s where we’re headed.” His lips twisted as he reversed out of the space. “I called a couple of places to see if I could rent a f
ootball uniform, and surprisingly, they’re hard to come by in February. So I racked my brain and remembered I had a couple of old uniforms stashed in my closet at the old man’s place. Ex-place, since he doesn’t live there anymore.”
He didn’t call it his home, she noted. “Why doesn’t he sell it, then?”
“Good question. He says he keeps it for the memories.” He grunted. “Memories of a family he can’t be bothered to contact more often than at holidays.” The twist in his lips turned into an outright sneer. “He means he keeps it for her, not us. We were just the unfortunate consequences of the great love he once had.”
She reached across the console to take the big hand he’d propped against his thigh. “Do you know that for sure?”
“Proof’s in the pudding, doncha think? He hasn’t been the same since she walked out the door.”
“She abandoned him with three kids with no notice. I have to imagine that was pretty tough to deal with. And one of them was furious at him and the world,” she said softly, lacing her fingers with his. “Not saying you didn’t have every right, Bry, but he was hurting. People who are hurting do stupid things, like shutting out the people they need the most.”
Rather than exploding at her as he once might have, he only huffed out a long breath. “Do you mean me? You think I’ve shut him out?”
“Only you can answer that. If you have, you’re more than entitled. Regardless of what he was going through, his kids should’ve come first. He had a responsibility to make sure the three of you were okay.”
“I wasn’t okay,” he said finally.
“But you are now.”
His silence told her more than words ever could. She squeezed his hand and looked out the window. He needed space, so she’d give it to him, even if it killed her. God knew she didn’t know what to say. She’d lost her mama from illness at age twenty, but she’d never doubted how much her mother loved her.
It was hard to say which was worse: Loving someone unconditionally and losing them? Or walking away from someone before you knew if they loved you in the first place?
She’d go with door number one. But looking at Bryan, she had a feeling he’d go with door number two. He’d been alone for so long. Maybe it was easier to stay that way than hear someone say they didn’t want him.
They took the long way through town, looping up around the water tower where years ago Vic had so infamously been caught making out with the most popular guy in high school.
“I’m sure Vic’s told you”—he cleared his throat—“about my mother. Where she is.”
Stunned that he’d go there with her, she tried not to outwardly react. He was notoriously private, to the point that Vic had lamented more than once that he was an island surrounded by a moat of people. That he would even broach this subject with her so soon after they’d reconnected was huge.
“Yes,” she said carefully. “She’s told me a bit about the group home. She didn’t say much, and I didn’t press her. It’s your business.”
“You’ve been part of us for a lot of years. It’s your business, too.”
The quiet certitude in his tone stole her breath. Part of us. Not part of Vic. Us. “It is if you want to share it with me. I’d never pry—”
