Chapter Two
MILLER
I was fucked.
No other way around it.
The words fell from my mouth before I had a damn chance to stop them. But the minute they were released into the universe and I saw Kinsey’s pale expression color enough that I wasn’t afraid she was going to pass out, I felt better.
The best I’d felt in months.
Because I’d saved her.
And the last time I’d seen her?
I’d screwed her over.
Both times by way of her brother.
Shit, this season wasn’t starting so well.
“Great!” Jax exhaled and then breathed in and out again. He slapped my back and gave it a semi-awkward rub before jerking away and scratching his head. “I, uh, I appreciate it, Miller, I just—”
“Don’t mention it.” No, seriously. Don’t. Because every time the name Kinsey rolled off his damn tongue, my entire body buzzed with awareness and my eyes searched for her.
“Tell me more about Dad,” Kinsey pleaded, her lips pressed into a thin line before she crossed her arms and rubbed them.
Jax hung his head. “Not now, Kins.”
Her hands balled into tiny fists.
Unfair—that she was still gorgeous, that my mouth burned to graze hers, that I wanted to devour every single word that dropped from her luscious lips even if they were filled with bitterness and resentment. Her eyes were glossed over with worry—and even then she was still beautiful. Kinsey. The one girl that was off-limits—the one girl I couldn’t seem to get enough of.
The type of woman that made a man feel at his best—even when he was at his worst.
Tears filled her eyes and then she stomped toward me.
I wasn’t sure whether to back up or just let her hit me, get it over with, and pray to God that she didn’t expose what I’d done. If Jax ever found out, I’d be dead, and it would be on her conscience.
“Fine.” She poked my chest with one of her fingers. Her face was softer than normal, a bit more round. The weight she’d gained (not that I’d ever admit to her that I could tell) looked good on her, like she was finally healthy, gaining that ass she’d been comically obsessed with ever since my best friend Emerson joined the cheer squad and showed her how to survive off things that weren’t just green.
Like bread.
Pasta.
Life.
“But he’s not allowed to touch me.” She licked her full lips. “At all, especially—”
“Whoa!” Jax shook his head and then laughed so loudly that I was actually offended. “Miller? He knows I’d kill him and bury the body. It’s why he’s the only guy who can do it—he’s the only guy who would know to look the other way if you’re running around doing a naked striptease.”
Kinsey glared. “I was a kid.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Jax shrugged. “Naked is naked. Go take your nap.”
“No.” She crossed her arms. “I want to know more about Dad.”
And that was my cue to leave.
I awkwardly checked my phone. Damn it, I would kill for a text message or missed phone call—even if it was from Sanchez. Then again, he hadn’t come up for air since proposing to Emerson a few months ago.
I briefly rubbed the spot on my chest that still burned after being rejected and then remembered—I was over it.
Not fully.
But getting there.
Just not as fast as I would have liked, especially since I was constantly surrounded by their inability to not scream while having sex.
I think Sanchez did it to piss me off.
And since I was their neighbor.
I was in hell.
Of course this led to me staying with Jax a few times a week, which led to this current bad life decision.
He’d trusted me.
Let me into his life.
Something he’d never done with any other teammate except Sanchez.
And all without knowing that I’d seen his sister naked—and she sure as hell wasn’t six at the time.
What the hell train of thought just occurred?
I blinked and saw Kinsey shaking in Jax’s arms. I missed a pivotal part of that conversation, I was still trying to figure out if it was a good thing or bad when she sniffled against his chest and then shoved away from him and ran into her room.
Slamming the door behind her.
Her luggage was still strewn around the living room, even though she’d gotten back last week.
And for the last seven days, Jax had asked me to come over.
I’d said hell no in my head and lied, told him I was busy, when I was really avoiding his sister like the plague.
And not because she was this psychotic clingy sexually frustrated cheerleader, but because I was legit afraid that I’d forget about Jax, and all the reasons I wasn’t allowed to touch her, and just fuse my mouth to hers until I passed out from oxygen deprivation.
“She took that well.” Jax hung his head, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I can’t win with her.”
Emotional heart-to-hearts—especially about things like cancer or impending death—weren’t my thing. It’s not that I couldn’t tap into that part of my heart, but I wasn’t ready to, because a part of me wasn’t ready to acknowledge that I still had a lot of shit still locked up on the inside that was trying to pry its way out. Talking reminded me of my own pain and I hated it. Besides, what the hell kind of encouragement did I even have to give? When I knew nothing. And it seemed like the worst possible idea to try to offer him hope—when I sometimes felt like I had none.
And Jax? Well, he was the type of guy who had his shit together and on lockdown; he’d see right through my lame attempts at trying to make him feel better.
“She’s been out of the country. That’s a lot of news to dump on her first week back, man, and my dad wanted her to have that time—Kinsey needs that time, she deserves it.”
Something about the way he said that made me pause.
She deserved it?
Jax’s jaw clenched.
Silence overtook the room.
He was still staring at the door with his laser vision like he was waiting for it to open or maybe disappear altogether. “My dad should be fine.”
“That’s good news.”
“One more round of chemo,” he said in a hollow voice.
“How long does that take?” I had a feeling he wanted to talk. And I felt like a bastard for thinking of every excuse in the book to bolt.
Still staring at the door, Jax gave a noncommittal shrug. “A month, maybe two. We’ll be playing the Pilots again.” He gave me a serious nod and popped his knuckles. “Good quarterback, strong special teams, heard they picked up that dickhead Silva.”
“Silva can kiss my ass.” I felt my body visibly relax. Football I could talk about. Slowly I made my way toward him then stepped directly in his line of vision. “Besides, he’s only fast when he’s not out partying all hours, and we all know that his discipline is total shit.”
He nodded, staring through me, toward the door . . . toward his sister. Damn it.
“God. Football. Family—Kinsey.” He gulped, finally locking eyes with me while a muscle ticked down his neck. “That’s how I deal with shit. They don’t usually mix, man. I have to compartmentalize to concentrate, then I feel like a complete dick for having to do that. I just, I can’t look at the whole picture all at once. It’s the same with plays, I have to look at each possible outcome then back at the whole picture and dissect. And with my dad, that means—”
“You look at the end.”
“Yeah.” His voice cracked. “I do.”
My heart splintered a bit.
I knew what it was like to lose a parent.
There were no words in the English language to describe how much life it sucked out of a person—how it still hurt, years later, how you still heard that person’s voice and woke up running into the kitchen only to realize that they weren’t ever coming back.
I looked away. “I got you, you know that, right?”
“Yeah, man.” He finally seemed to snap out of it. “I know.”
“And I’ll take care of Kins, at least that’s one box you don’t have to open, alright?”
Because I already opened, plundered, plunged, thrust—holy shit on fire, I was going to burn in hell.
“You deal with what you gotta deal with and I’ll help with the rest.”
“He broke her heart,” Jax added. “I’m not letting that happen again.”
“You gonna lock her in her room again?”
“If I have to.” He was dead serious, poor Kins.
“I will literally suffocate you in your sleep” came Kinsey’s voice as she sauntered out of the room in spandex shorts tight enough to give me a heart attack and a tank top that left nothing to the imagination. “I’m going to go to the stadium to lift.”
“The hell you are!” Jax roared.
Here we go.
She swiped a few tears. “It’s how I de-stress!” She grabbed her keys. “And we start practice in a week, I need to lose this!”
She slapped her ass.
I swear the hardest moment of my life occurred when I looked toward the ceiling rather than in the direction of the sound of her hand hitting spandex, though I probably lost points with God when I replayed the image of me doing the exact same thing until my palm was sore.
“I can’t go with you.” Jax gritted his teeth. “I have film to go over.”
And just like that, all eyes fell to me.
And when I say all, Kinsey glared and silently gave me enough threatening looks to get her point across while Jax pleaded.
Couldn’t win either way.
“I should, uh, lift too.”
“Gee, maybe we can have a bro-sesh and I can spot you.” She rubbed her hands together. “Oh wait, you can lift ten of me. Just let me do my thing, and you can go do what dumb football players do.”
“Oh yeah, what’s that?” I took the bait.
“Look pretty.” She winked at both of us.
“Jax, she called us pretty.”
“Don’t fight it.” She jerked the fridge open and grabbed a water bottle. “And if you’re coming to babysit, then I at least get to drive.”
“Okay.”
“Your car.” She dropped her keys on the counter and held out her hand. “Come on, give them up, baby. Or wait”—she tapped her chin—“I think I need a better nickname for you . . .” Her eyes looked evil. I didn’t like the look, well, most of me didn’t, other parts were on board, treacherous bastards. “Chicken Waffle.”
“You can’t call him Chicken Waffle.”
“I’m not.” She grinned. “He can be the chicken, I get to be the waffle.”
The door nearly slammed her on the ass on the way out.
“Better go after her.” Jax sighed. “She’s had five tickets.”
“That’s not so—”
“In the last year.”
I groaned.
And followed her out.