Teasing: Chapter 17

I once saw a poster that said the butterfly is only beautiful because the caterpillar is brave, and my goodness, did that hit home. If that furry looking little thing can be brave, I can at least try . . . right?

—Emmie’s Secret Thoughts

Maverick steals a quick kiss before I follow Camden across our yards later that night. Nothing at all like our last kiss, and yet, just the brush of his lips against mine rocks me to my core.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Em.” Cam opens the door and waits for me to walk through before he follows me inside.

My shoulders stiffen, but not because I’m offended. They stiffen because I’ve been asking myself the same thing. I haven’t stopped asking since that night on Mav’s porch. “Do we ever really know?” I murmur and set my bag of art supplies on the table and spin on my brother, heartbroken to have this conversation again. In some ways, it’s been nice having him in the house, and in others, I feel as alone here as I did just a few short months ago. “I saw Dad today.”

He looks away. “Yeah, I heard you and Rosie mention it.”

I step into Camden’s space and cross my arms over my chest, taking up as much space as possible. Forcing him to look at me. “He asked about you.”

“Em—”

“I know what I’m doing, Camden. I’m living. I’m trying. It’s so damn scary, but I’m trying. Can you say the same?” Everything hurts. It’s raw. My heart and soul were shredded today, and I need him to know that. To try to understand.

He closes his eyes for a hot second to hide the pain shining there. I know this move. I’ve used it for years. When he opens them, his mask is firmly in place. Fortified walls intact. “We’re doing the best we can, Em. Give it time. It’ll get better.”

“Don’t you ever feel like that’s all we’ve ever done? Given it time? Waited out the storm.” I’m not yelling. My voice isn’t raised. It’s not angry. It’s just tired. So incredibly tired. “Guess what, Camden? It’s still raining. We’re caught in the eye of the storm, waiting for a break that’s not coming.”

“I never wanted you to feel like that, Em.” He lifts his head to the ceiling, trying to hide the anguish. “There’s an end coming. It’s just not one any of us is ready for, no matter how we try to spin it. And I swear to God, Em. We tried to protect you from it. We tried so fucking hard.”

“Cam.” I reach out for him, but he pulls away. “You and Vivi did the best you could. We all did.”

His green eyes blaze and whip to mine. “How can you even say that?”

“Because I’m choosing to be happy, Camden. I’m living. What’s the alternative?”

He groans and shakes his head. “I always said you were the smart one.”

“Not wrong.” I smile through the unimaginable pain because what other choice do I have? “Maybe I don’t know what I’m doing. But I’m trying. We’ve got to keep trying.”

“Oh yeah . . .” Sarcasm drips from his tone as he makes his way to the kitchen, and I follow and hop up onto the island.

Camden pulls a water bottle from the fridge and cracks the lid before he hands it to me. “Drink this, so you don’t have a hangover tomorrow.”

“Camden—”

He lifts a brow as if to say is this the hill you want to die on?

“What exactly are you trying, Em?” The lines of his face are tight and tired. He’s too young to be this old.

“Faith, Cam. I’m trying to have faith. I refuse to believe there’s not a life out there meant for me, and maybe, just maybe, we’ll be okay. Maybe we’ve already gone through our hell and it’s our turn to be happy. I’m choosing faith, Camden.”

There’s a long pause before either of us says anything.

We’re stuck in a stalemate.

Both of us on opposites sides of the same war.

Until finally, he moves. Cracks his neck and brings his golden-green eyes back to mine. “Think you’ve got enough to loan me some?”

I hop down and lean into his side, forcing his arm around my shoulders. “I think so.”

“You know, I’m supposed to be the one protecting you guys, and I keep failing.”

If I had any tears left to cry today, they’d all be falling now. “You’ve been protecting us for years, Camden.”

He pushes away. “Yeah. And it still wasn’t enough.”

This time I don’t follow him. I let him go. Give him the space he needs.

I’m not sure how we get past this, if we even can.

But I am sure I just managed to make it worse.

“But Daddy . . .” Rosie whines, and I’m pretty sure this is the first time I’ve ever seen this little girl bordering on a meltdown. “I really, really want to go. Mimi and Grandpop will both be there.”

Maverick squats down to Rosie’s level and calmly takes her hands in his. “Briar Rose, I told you you’re not coming to the game tonight. I won’t even be playing. Maybe . . . and it’s a big maybe, but maybe, I’ll let you come to one of the regular season games. But not tonight. Now I have to go or I’m going to be late, and what does Grandpop always say?”

She looks at him like she has absolutely no earthly idea what Bash says, and I have to stifle a laugh. “That I can have a pony?”

So not the right answer, kiddo.

I watch the corners of Mav’s lips tip up as he fights his own smile and shakes his head. “He says if you’re not five minutes early, you’re late.”

“Is my pony gonna be late?”

Oh my goodness. I have to walk away. There’s no way to keep a straight face with the way this kid manages to innocently manipulate a conversation.

The world isn’t ready for Briar Rose Beneventi.

After a minute, Maverick meets me by the front door with an exasperated look. “I’m not sure how many more years I’ll be the one winning the battles with her, and she’s only five. What does that say about me?”

I press my palms to his chest and run them down the hard planes over his worn tee. Vintage Philly Kings, circa twenty years ago, if I know my Kings, and I do know my Kings. “It says you love your daughter. It also says you need to get firmer with her or you’re going to create a monster you’ll be trying to tame the rest of her childhood.”

“Beauty and brains.” He cups my cheek in his hand. “How did I get so lucky?”

I bat my lashes and purse my lips. “You haven’t gotten lucky yet, Cujo.”

Maverick presses his lips against mine, stealing my breath and my will to stand on my own two feet. I lean into him, our tongues tangling as the kiss goes from zero to two hundred and fifty in a single heartbeat before he pulls back. “Yeah, Em . . . I have.” He pecks my lips and drops his hand. “I have. I’ll see you after the game.”

“Go, Kings,” I call out as the door behind him shuts, and I close my eyes and lean back against it, wondering how I got here . . . with this man. This life.

Falling in love wasn’t on my summer bucket list.

Not with Rosie. Not with Maverick.

Not with their friends and their lives.

None of this was supposed to happen, but I think it might have been unavoidable.

But will me giving in hurt them in the end?

Maverick

“You look like you’re going to puke, Monroe.” I stand next to Camden on the sidelines as an opera singer moves to the fifty-yard line to sing the national anthem. “You doing okay?”

Camden looks down at the helmet in his hands. “I’m fighting for my life tonight. I’m not getting another chance at starting quarterback if this doesn’t work out. I’m not that hot shot out of college anymore. This is it.”

“The position is yours to take, brother. Fucking take it. You’re the best QB on the team. We all know it. You know it too. But if you don’t believe it, nobody else can help you.” The weight of the world is sitting on this guy’s shoulders, and I wouldn’t want to swap spots with him for anything in the damn world.

“Good talk, Beneventi,” he gruffs.

“You want a sweet pep talk full of flowers and unicorns with glitter shooting out of their ass, talk to my kid. You want honesty, listen to me. Nobody is gonna give you the chance. You need to take it, and then you need to shove it down their fucking throats, so nobody forgets that it’s yours now.” The music starts, and I look at him from the corner of my eye. “Nobody gives a shit who’s the preseason quarterback. They’ll remember who starts next week. Don’t give Coach Sinclair or Coach Ryan a chance to consider anyone else. Make sure all they see is you.”

The tenor opens his mouth, and one of the most beautiful renditions of the national anthem comes out, bringing tears to my eyes. This right here is one of my favorite moments of a game. The calm before the storm. And as he holds out the final note and we all hold our helmets high in the air, Camden turns my way.

“That one was better. But your pep-talk game sucks. You better up it if you’re supposed to be captain, Beneventi.” He slaps my back and walks over to the QB coach, Brady Ryan, with a look on his face that tells me the world is about to find out just how good a quarterback Camden Monroe is.

It’s about fucking time.