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She peered over at him, then down at their hands clasped together in his lap, and one of hers still clutching the sheet to her chest. For someone who didn’t do cuddly moments, this was mighty cuddly.
“My mom and dad didn’t exactly get on well. They were more high school sweethearts with a tragic ending.” She gripped harder at his hand, her knuckles turning white, even though she didn’t so much mind this talk right now. “They thought sticking together was for Chip and my benefit, except that just made our home a miserable place to be. So, I turned to escaping outside and hitting a ball with a racket whenever I got the chance.”
“You mean tennis?” His eyes narrowed, but his lips turned upward as though she’d given him a pleasant surprise. “You played tennis?”
She nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips because, despite everything, the thought of hitting and chasing a ball still brought her inordinate amounts of joy. “Yeah, I even managed to nag my mom into taking me an hour out of town for weekly lessons. I just loved playing. I got all the way to a training scholarship in Florida at sixteen. They were even talking about swapping me from the junior circuit to the pro-tour.”
“And let me guess.” The levity in his expression sagged. “That’s when your dad up and left, and your mom didn’t take it so well?”
“Yep.” She peered down, unable to look at him for the next bit. “I got pulled in from practice one day due to a call from Sheriff Marlin. He told me that Mom had been drinking, and my brother had come home to find half the house’s stuff broken and on the front lawn. When he found Mom, she was on the bathroom floor harming herself with an old razor blade.”
“Whoa, Sarah.” Dean shifted again, turning as if he might grab her up and comfort her, but she shook her head, wanting to continue.
“Chip was just thirteen years old, Dean.” She swallowed, trying to work past the tension pressing at her throat, but the strain didn’t ease. “Call it small-town pride, or maybe Mom’s well-to-do upbringing, but she just never coped all that well with life’s roadblocks.”
“And so little Sarah compensated?”
“I’m that predictable, aren’t I?” She pressed her lips together and drew a breath. He was right. “Compensate, I did. I quit tennis, came back home, demanded my dad take my brother while I finished school and kept the bar running with Aggie and the sheriff’s help. Mom came back for a little bit. She tried to open a window where I might return to playing, but she hit the bottle within a week and didn’t hold it together more than two months. It became clear I was never going anywhere. It was the sheriff who came by and took her away. He made the decision I wouldn’t. Mom was too much of a danger to herself and me to stay in the house, and once she was gone again, she never came back. She said our house, Chip and I, the memories, was all too much for her.”
“Sarah…” Dean’s voice dipped low, and the subtle drag held a hint of sympathetic warning. “You took on too much. The sheriff and Aggie, basically anyone in this town, could have maintained the bar while you took some time to grow up and do your thing.”
“Maybe.” She frowned down at her lap. “I was in denial—or maybe I should call it naive hope—the rationale of a desperate seventeen-year-old not thinking things through. I figured if I just stayed and waited, there might be some big revelation on my parents’ part, then we would all be together again. And here I am, years later, still waiting.”
A jagged laugh broke from her, and she shook her head.
“You were in shock.” His easy tone pulled at her, his plain acceptance shining a light on the rejection of it all. She’d been left behind, isolated. Something Dean had experienced himself. And yet, despite all her stonewalling and bluster, he was far more skilled at moving on than she was.
She shrugged, all while flicking away her deeper thoughts. “By the time everything settled and the desire to play returned, I was nearing nineteen and hadn’t picked up a racket in years. My carefree innocence was gone, and I simply didn’t have it in me to go back to what I’d lost. To watch all the kids I’d played against thrive while I scratched through the ashes, trying to find some piece of what I’d had. My parents let me keep the house, and I had the bar. It was something over having nothing.”
Dean stared at her for a long while, his penetrating silence twisting an invisible cord within her, making it hard to simply hold still and accept his attention. “Your parents should never have expected you to look after them that way. You were young, and everything you’d known was destroyed. I’m sure they were probably in over their heads, but I would never let any child of mine take the brunt like you did. Just like I promised I wouldn’t let anything hurt you, I would protect them too, Sarah.”
Her breath caught in her lungs, and she stared into his eyes, stunned into silence. So much about his words hurt. The reason she never spoke to her dad. Because while her mom fell apart, his new life with his new woman had continued uninterrupted.
And speaking of dads, she could imagine Dean as one. Despite his confession about his checkered past, the inherent good in him meant she could see him doing everything in his power to protect any child. Not just his own.
Then there were the unspoken sentiments. That he would protect her and his child, as though the two were connected.
The space beneath her ribcage filled with an overly full sensation, her next breaths hard to take because she hurt for herself and she hurt for him.
She hurt because she hurt, after years of shutting every meaningful emotion away.
“You’re right.” She lifted her chin, once again sweeping away the deeper stuff and relying on bravado. “And maybe it’s time I stopped coasting and stopped setting my standards on everything just staying the same. Maybe I should start making some decisions. Ones that will shake things up a little.”
He chuckled and so did she, then he pulled her in and captured her lips in one full and meaningful kiss. “You know, the sexiest thing you can ever say to a man is that he’s right?”
His smile remained, and he rolled her under him, making it clear what he wanted next. She laughed and accepted his move. The way it made her feel. Wanted.Unreservedly wanted.
As if to confirm that want, his soulful gaze swept over her face in a way that made time stumble and slow. “As long as all your new decisions include keeping me.”
