The All-Star Antes Up
Page 100
Envy hit Luke like a helmet to the chest. “I’m glad you two straightened things out.”
“What you said to me that night . . . it shook me up. I didn’t want to take responsibility for my failure, so I shifted the blame to you.” Trevor shrugged. “I guess I figured your shoulders were strong enough to carry it.”
Luke sat down and waved toward the sofa behind Trevor.
“I couldn’t believe you threw me out. Cursed you with every foul word I could think of,” Trevor said, seating himself on the edge of the cushion. “Then I woke up the next morning and realized I’d lost my brother.” He looked Luke in the eye. “And that was about the worst feeling I’ve ever had.”
Luke sat back as he absorbed Trevor’s about-face. It was like the spreading warmth of a shot of great tequila. “Hardest thing I ever did.”
“I’ve had my head up my ass for too long.” Trevor stared down at the hands he had clasped on his thighs. “You don’t have to forgive me. I just wanted to tell you that I heard you.”
“It’s not about forgiving. That’s done.” Luke wanted to make sure his brother understood. “It’s about owning your actions. That’s the only way to move forward.”
Trevor raised his head. “I’m headed in the right direction now. I want to include you in the journey.”
“You got it, Trev. I’m with you all the way.” He stood and walked over to his brother with his hand held out. Trevor took his hand and rose to pull him into a brief, hard hug.
As they stepped apart, Trevor grinned. “Man, you even smell like a barn. So you weren’t busting my chops. What the hell were you doing?”
“It’s a long story.” The screwed-up mess he’d made crashed into him again.
“I’ve got all night.”
For a split second, Luke was tempted to spill his guts, the way he had years ago when they were close and his brother was the one person he could trust to keep his secrets. But the feelings were too raw, and he’d gotten used to keeping things to himself. “I appreciate it, but about all I have the energy for is a shower and bed.” He gripped Trevor’s shoulder. “You’re welcome to stay here tonight.”
“Thanks, but I’ve got a hotel room already booked.” Trevor’s smile turned wry. “No more mooching off my older brother.”
“It’s not mooching if you’re welcome.”
Trevor gave him a level look. “I know you mean it about staying here, but I need to stand on my own two feet.”
“I hear you.” Luke walked him to the elevator. As the door slid open and his brother stepped in, he said, “Give my love to Jodie. And come back soon.”
He stood, listening to the hum of the elevator as it descended. He wanted to shout at Trevor to come back so he could celebrate the fact that he had a brother again. But Trevor had called the play this time, and Luke couldn’t argue with it.
He pivoted to the photograph of the two cowboys walking side by side. Maybe it did remind him of himself and his brother. Miranda had thought so.
And Miranda had made his reconciliation with his brother possible. She was the one who had told him to push past the guilt to honesty. Her support had given him the courage to tell Trevor the truth about how he felt.
Regret and longing clawed at him as he remembered how her face had lit up when she’d walked into the farmhouse’s kitchen. She hadn’t looked at any of the other people crowding the room, just him. He felt like he’d been sacked in the end zone.
And he’d shut her down. Killed the light because he was afraid of how she made him feel.
He shook his head to stop the pain that pulsed through it. He needed to find a way to get Miranda her job back. Somehow Orin had to go while the rest of the staff kept their jobs. And Luke couldn’t be involved, so he needed a front man. He searched his memory and came up with a client name Miranda had mentioned . . . Anglethorpe. He’d enlist them to lead the campaign. Once he got that taken care of, he could focus on football. Be the Iceman again.
He strode out to the terrace, hoping the razor-sharp wind would blow Miranda out of his mind. The Statue of Liberty stretched her arm upward tirelessly, and the distant lights of the Verrazano Bridge winked like the jewels of a necklace against dark, liquid velvet.
The spectacular view couldn’t stop him from remembering how beautiful Miranda had looked in her jeans and rubber boots, her hair wisping around her face. The smudges of fatigue under her eyes had made him want to scoop her up in his arms and carry her to a bed.
Except if he’d gotten anywhere near a bed with her, he’d have climbed in and made love to her. He’d barely been able to stop himself from ripping the coveralls off her in the cheese cave, with his teammates—and even worse, Gavin Miller—just outside the door.
Once she got her job back, he would run into her every now and then, hear her satin-smooth voice, watch her lips curve into a smile. Maybe even see her with another man, the one she deserved.
His fingers clenched on the stone parapet so hard that tiny bits of grit embedded themselves in his skin.
“I’m an idiot,” he muttered, echoing Miller’s text. If he saw another man touch Miranda, he’d horse-collar the guy and break every bone in the hand that had dared to touch her.
Miranda had told him to be honest with his brother. Now he needed to be honest with himself. As he stared down at the corded tendons of his hands, the truth unfolded in his heart like a perfectly executed play-action pass on the field.
“What you said to me that night . . . it shook me up. I didn’t want to take responsibility for my failure, so I shifted the blame to you.” Trevor shrugged. “I guess I figured your shoulders were strong enough to carry it.”
Luke sat down and waved toward the sofa behind Trevor.
“I couldn’t believe you threw me out. Cursed you with every foul word I could think of,” Trevor said, seating himself on the edge of the cushion. “Then I woke up the next morning and realized I’d lost my brother.” He looked Luke in the eye. “And that was about the worst feeling I’ve ever had.”
Luke sat back as he absorbed Trevor’s about-face. It was like the spreading warmth of a shot of great tequila. “Hardest thing I ever did.”
“I’ve had my head up my ass for too long.” Trevor stared down at the hands he had clasped on his thighs. “You don’t have to forgive me. I just wanted to tell you that I heard you.”
“It’s not about forgiving. That’s done.” Luke wanted to make sure his brother understood. “It’s about owning your actions. That’s the only way to move forward.”
Trevor raised his head. “I’m headed in the right direction now. I want to include you in the journey.”
“You got it, Trev. I’m with you all the way.” He stood and walked over to his brother with his hand held out. Trevor took his hand and rose to pull him into a brief, hard hug.
As they stepped apart, Trevor grinned. “Man, you even smell like a barn. So you weren’t busting my chops. What the hell were you doing?”
“It’s a long story.” The screwed-up mess he’d made crashed into him again.
“I’ve got all night.”
For a split second, Luke was tempted to spill his guts, the way he had years ago when they were close and his brother was the one person he could trust to keep his secrets. But the feelings were too raw, and he’d gotten used to keeping things to himself. “I appreciate it, but about all I have the energy for is a shower and bed.” He gripped Trevor’s shoulder. “You’re welcome to stay here tonight.”
“Thanks, but I’ve got a hotel room already booked.” Trevor’s smile turned wry. “No more mooching off my older brother.”
“It’s not mooching if you’re welcome.”
Trevor gave him a level look. “I know you mean it about staying here, but I need to stand on my own two feet.”
“I hear you.” Luke walked him to the elevator. As the door slid open and his brother stepped in, he said, “Give my love to Jodie. And come back soon.”
He stood, listening to the hum of the elevator as it descended. He wanted to shout at Trevor to come back so he could celebrate the fact that he had a brother again. But Trevor had called the play this time, and Luke couldn’t argue with it.
He pivoted to the photograph of the two cowboys walking side by side. Maybe it did remind him of himself and his brother. Miranda had thought so.
And Miranda had made his reconciliation with his brother possible. She was the one who had told him to push past the guilt to honesty. Her support had given him the courage to tell Trevor the truth about how he felt.
Regret and longing clawed at him as he remembered how her face had lit up when she’d walked into the farmhouse’s kitchen. She hadn’t looked at any of the other people crowding the room, just him. He felt like he’d been sacked in the end zone.
And he’d shut her down. Killed the light because he was afraid of how she made him feel.
He shook his head to stop the pain that pulsed through it. He needed to find a way to get Miranda her job back. Somehow Orin had to go while the rest of the staff kept their jobs. And Luke couldn’t be involved, so he needed a front man. He searched his memory and came up with a client name Miranda had mentioned . . . Anglethorpe. He’d enlist them to lead the campaign. Once he got that taken care of, he could focus on football. Be the Iceman again.
He strode out to the terrace, hoping the razor-sharp wind would blow Miranda out of his mind. The Statue of Liberty stretched her arm upward tirelessly, and the distant lights of the Verrazano Bridge winked like the jewels of a necklace against dark, liquid velvet.
The spectacular view couldn’t stop him from remembering how beautiful Miranda had looked in her jeans and rubber boots, her hair wisping around her face. The smudges of fatigue under her eyes had made him want to scoop her up in his arms and carry her to a bed.
Except if he’d gotten anywhere near a bed with her, he’d have climbed in and made love to her. He’d barely been able to stop himself from ripping the coveralls off her in the cheese cave, with his teammates—and even worse, Gavin Miller—just outside the door.
Once she got her job back, he would run into her every now and then, hear her satin-smooth voice, watch her lips curve into a smile. Maybe even see her with another man, the one she deserved.
His fingers clenched on the stone parapet so hard that tiny bits of grit embedded themselves in his skin.
“I’m an idiot,” he muttered, echoing Miller’s text. If he saw another man touch Miranda, he’d horse-collar the guy and break every bone in the hand that had dared to touch her.
Miranda had told him to be honest with his brother. Now he needed to be honest with himself. As he stared down at the corded tendons of his hands, the truth unfolded in his heart like a perfectly executed play-action pass on the field.
