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My mother nods, clearly not surprised by that. “I assumed youwouldmarry her.”
“But I don’t get to do that on my own.”
“Right. Do Nathan and Crew want to marry her?”
“Nathan does. Crew…will eventually.”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“That she’ll never be just mine.” I blow out a breath, having finally confessed the full truth to someone. “They need her and she needs them and I guess I’m trying to figure out if I can be okay with not ever being everything to her.”
Again, my mother doesn't look surprised, but she looks a little sad. "Oh."
I nod. "I know. I want her to be happy and fulfilled. Nathan protects her and makes her life so easy. And she loves that. She deserves the pampering. I love that he does that for her, actually." I take a breath. "Crew wants to play and have fun and be spontaneous and over-the-top. She laughs and just blooms, like a little flower in the sun, with him." I swallow. "And I love that for her. I love watching them together."
“And you take care of her and love her,” my mom points out.
“Yes. It’s just a strange place to be. To love a woman the way I love her. To want Nathan and Crew for her on one hand and, on the other, wish I could give hereverythingshe needs myself.”
My mom reaches over and takes my hand, squeezing it. "Well,Iwantyouhappy and fulfilled," my mom finally says. "So you take care of you, okay?"
I nod. "Thanks mom. I love you."
"I know you do. And Dani knows you love her too.”
Yeah, I know she does. I just hope it's enough.
CHAPTER 15
Nathan
“I should have gone to Decatur,”I say to Crew, who is, frankly, driving me fucking insane.
He’s holding court on the sofa like hockey royalty—which he is—surrounded by balloons and flowers and takeout boxes that have been sent to him by family and friends for the last three days. The damn doorbell is ringing every ten minutes and I have to keep answering it like some personal assistant to McNeill. Between that and the fact that Hughes is barely communicating with any of us, I’m a ball of tension.
More so than I usually am.
I’m worried about the playoffs without McNeill. Looking at him lying there reminds me of everything we have to lose these next few games without him. I don’t want to lose the momentum that’s been building all season.
I’m worried we let down Hughes, because we’re all still figuring out how to do this thing, our complex relationship/family.
I’m worried about his father, even though Michael has told us several times there was no damage to his heart, because I know what it’s like to lose a parent and it really sucks.
I’m annoyed that it reminds me that sooner than later I will lose my grandfather.
And I’m really annoyed that Crew is annoyed when he’s the one sitting on his ass doing nothing.
Danielle has been waiting on Crew hand and foot, but she’s at the bookstore working the afternoon shift and I’m stuck with this dickhead. He sucks at being out of commission. He is demanding and grouchy, watching endless videos on his phone with the volume turned all the way up. I’m one more falling-off-a-dock-into-a-lake-blooper video away from walking out the door and texting Lori McNeill to come and deal with her son.
I already tried texting his sister, and she just sent me ten laugh cry emojis back.
“I can’t reach my chopsticks,” Crew says, reaching out his arm a mere two inches.
He’s like a Victorian heiress on a fainting couch with a bout of the fucking vapors. If the couch was the world’s biggest one in existence. I’m also still annoyed by this oversized couch because Crew is usually the one sprawled on it, even before his injury.
I pick up the paper packet holding the disposable chopsticks and throw them at him. They bounce off his chest and land in his pampered lap. “Did you even hear what I said?”
“Yes. And for oh, about the tenth time, Doc didn’t want you to go.”
