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“Start with now. Am I the cause? The last thing I want is to make you sad or upset.”
The inhale of her ragged breath leaves me discouraged before she squeaks out, “No, you’re unexpected and caring. My mom died when I was eleven.” She focuses on my hair, fiddling with the waves. “My dad… just didn’t know what to do with me or for me.”
I angle her head toward mine, hoping she’ll continue to open up. If one of my parents died, one of my older brothers or sisters would have stepped up. Adalee’s told me she was an only child during one of our bantering sessions, which now I believe was just foreplay.
“He kept me in gymnastics so he wouldn’t have to deal with me. I resemble my mom, and I think it hurt him to look at me, especially as I got older. Our conversations are superfluous, so we don’t know each other like I think a parent should know their child.”
This explains why she kept pushing me away. She doesn’t trust men to support her in good times and bad. “Have you tried talking to him and telling him how you feel?”
“Not really.” My heart cracks open, hearing the sadness in her tone. “It just hurts, you know.”
The problem is that I don’t know. I can’t imagine and even imagining something like death of one of my parents stings. And talking about anyone’s problems in my family has never been an issue. My family faces obstacles head on. We talk about them—together. When Archer was taking Xanax and combining it with drinking to numb the pain of his girlfriend cutting off their engagement and marrying another man for no apparent reason, my dad confronted him. I was young but I remember their hushed conversation in the kitchen while I was in the den playing video games.
Archer kissed his wife at my sister’s wedding, and he didn’t even remember her. It was bad. Dad told him he wasn’t taking over the Triple A team, the Sarasota Sharks, until he got his act together. But it wasn’t just words; my parents had a standing dinner with him once a week. They always picked a night where I had baseball practice and Harper would tag along with me.
“Adalee, you need to tell him how you feel. Maybe he doesn’t realize or maybe he needs someone to tell him that he can be better. He needs to be better.”
A simple tight-lipped smile graces her face. “I know.” She pauses. “Will you just hold me?”
“Of course. Turn over.”
She rolls over and I pull her back into my chest. With her head tucked under my chin, I can’t resist kissing her cheek. “But you need to unburden yourself. Maybe not tonight, but no matter what’s going on, I promise, I’ll be here to listen.”
As I tighten my hold around her waist, she whispers, “Thank you.”
ChapterTwenty-Seven
Adalee
Findingtime with Hagan is next to impossible because our schedules don’t mesh up. When I’m going into the weight room, he’s coming out. When he has practice, I don’t, and vice versa. So I’ve worked with coach while he’s at practice, mostly bar and foam pit work for now.
I never thought I would thank God for our engineering class, but it’s the only days I’ve seen him for any length of time. He picked me up and drove us to the job site both days and then comes over for an hour to work on the research phase of our project. We’ve come up with options but now we have to do a deep dive and to be super impressive, we want to turn it from theory to reality. Hagan has access to engineers that work for the Kodiaks so he has sent them several questions.
When Hagan asked me about my future—our future—I was speechless. He thinks far in advance like every good architect or engineer should. But there is so much to do when you’re an engineering major.
After completing a degree in engineering, you still have to go through four years of what’s akin to an apprenticeship. Then, you have to take an exam before you are a trueprofessionalin the eyes of the workforce.
Hagan and I both came into college as juniors with the exception of a couple of classes. I consider myself a junior because it’s my third year in college but technically, we’re seniors.
I pout as he turns to leave and he leans against the door, stroking my hair. “I’m sorry babe. I wish I could stay, but I have to serve my punishment.”
Hagan has to do clean up duty at the team dinner, which ended up being moved from breakfast because the coach had community service PSA to film. Hagan wouldn’t be cleaning up at all if it wasn’t for Chaz. I’m sure he was taunting Hagan, but Hagan doesn’t talk about him. He told me on the phone, “I have you and that’s all that matters.”
“Can you come back after your clean up duty?” I ask, jutting my bottom lip out. “Maybe stay the night here?”
“I’ll try. I have a shit-ton to do.”
Then he grabs my face to kiss me. It lasts so long, our temperatures rise. I can feel his erection against my abdomen, and I press into him needing friction. I never needed any of this before. Now these feelings surface the instant I’m in his vicinity.
When we part, he hits the door with an open palm. “Damn. I wish I didn’t have to go.”
He’s buried in two papers. His mind is just as amazing as his body. Or at least what I’ve seen. I giggle thinking about it. “What?” he asks.
“Nothing.”
“Tell me.” He starts poking me. Breathing on me. Teasing me.
Biting my lip, I say, “I was thinking about how defined your body is.” And just like that, he fires off a cocky grin that’s panty melting material.
