Spinning Out(The Blackhawk Boy #1)(61)

I shake my head and gesture to where they're sitting on the couch.  "You're already doing it." The front door opens and I look over my  shoulder to see Dad stepping outside. "I should go talk to him."

"We'll be here," Chris says.

Mason offers his fist and I bump mine against it. "Thank you, you two. You have no idea what this means to me."

I find Dad sitting on the front porch smoking a cigar. I close the door  behind me and he nods to the chair beside him. I take it but shake my  head when he offers me a cigar.

"You've had quite a day," he murmurs.

"I'm sorry about everything, Dad." I lean forward, propping my elbows on  my knees. "It never even crossed my mind that Coach would have lied to  me like that."

"I'm glad the truth came out." He releases a mouthful of smoke. "It has a way of doing that."

"I guess it does. Eventually."

"Gwen left today." He says it as if he's telling me there's leftover  spaghetti in the fridge. "Don't look at me like that. She wasn't happy,  and everyone knew it. She thought she wanted the grumpy old man for his  money, but it turns out I'm not worth it. She tried to forbid me to go  to the station to help you, and you can imagine how well I handled it."  He sighs heavily. "Anyway, she took Katie and went to her mom's."

"I'm sorry, Dad."

He shrugs. "Me too, but I'm not sorry she left. Just sorry we weren't  right together." He takes another puff and leans back in his chair. "I  miss your mother."                       
       
           



       

I swallow hard. Other than our anomaly of a conversation yesterday  morning, Dad and I don't have talks like this, and we definitely don't  talk about Mom. "You do?"

"She was my heart." He swallows hard. "Love like that is rare, but assholes like me fuck it up anyway."

"I don't want to fuck it up with Mia," I say, studying my hands. "I love her."

"Then be with her." There's something comforting in how simple he makes it sound.

"I keep pushing her away. I don't know if I get another chance at this point."

Dad stamps out his cigar, stands, and pats me on the back. "Then you  should go to her and beg for one. That's what your mom would tell you.  Life's too short."

I yank on the pant leg of my jeans to show him my ankle monitor. "House arrest."

"I think you can figure this out, son."

I swallow hard, both hopeful and terrified at the prospect of holding Mia in my arms again as soon as today.

He opens the front door and then stops. "Ask if she'd be interested in  coming back. Katie will be with me half the week, and I'll need help  around here."

And I need her. "You have to give her a raise."

"Already done."

"And have her sit with us at family meals, and hire someone else to cater your parties. No treating her like the help."

"Understood."

I nod. "I'll ask her, then."

Dad goes into the house, and I pull my phone from my pocket and dial my probation officer.





I am wrung dry and I am filled up.

I am confident and I am terrified.

I am lost but I know exactly where I am.

Bailey lies beside me in the grass across from Dad's trailer. From under  the big maple, we stare up at the sky, watching the stars twinkle  through the leaves.

"You have room for one more?" a deep voice asks from our feet.

My heart skids to a halt and then accelerates again all before I can take a breath. Arrow.

"Holy shit," Bailey mutters. She props herself on her elbows. "Aren't you on house arrest?"

"I told my probation officer what happened today and that I owed some apologies." He looks at his watch. "I have an hour."

Bailey hops up and brushes her hands on the back of her jeans. "I'll  just get out of your way, then." As I sit up, she winks at me and then  strolls away.

Arrow takes a step toward me, but before he's close enough to touch, he  stops and shoves his hands into his pockets. "Gwen left Dad."

"I'm sorry," I say.

He looks over his shoulder toward the house. "You know, I think it's  okay. I think he was sick of falling short on making her happy."

I shake my head. "That's where they went wrong. It's not his job to make her happy. It's hers."

He gives a sad smile. "Yeah, someone told me something like that once."

I lean back on my elbows and study the starlight through the broad  branches of the old maple tree. "She was wise." I swallow hard.

"Do you remember when you told me about your mom? About the fire and the sun?"

My stomach twists. I tried so hard to justify ignoring my feelings for  Arrow. "It was just a metaphor." It was a false binary that didn't work  in a world where two guys who were best friends were both so important  to me.

"I like metaphors," he says, sinking to sit in the grass beside me. "But  that one's never worked for the way I feel about you. I don't want to  be your fire or your sunshine."

I can't pretend to look at the stars anymore. I turn to look at his face  and see he's watching me. "You came here to tell me again that you  don't want me in your life?"

"I didn't say that. It's just not the metaphor I like. It's too simple  to describe what I feel for you." Reaching over, he brushes my hair  behind my ear. "You're not the hot, burning fire, because you're there  even after a long, hard rain." He swallows and takes a breath. "You're  not the sun, because you're there in the darkest night." He traces my  lips with his thumb.

"Arrow . . ."

"You can't be the wind-beneath my wings or otherwise"-he laughs and then  his smile falls away as he traces his thumb down the column of my  neck-"because you keep me warm during the deepest winter." He closes his  eyes, lifts his hand from my neck, and clenches his fist.

"Are you okay?"

He opens his eyes again and gives me a crooked smile. "I'm not done, but I really fucking want to kiss you right now."                       
       
           



       

The butterflies in my stomach burst into raucous applause. "That would be okay with me."

He strokes my cheek, and traces my lips again. "I need to finish first."

I bite back a smile. "Then hurry, because now that I know how this conversation ends, I'm pretty anxious to get through it."

His gaze lands on my lips for what feels like a thousand desperate beats  of my heart before he meets my eyes again. "For a long time I thought  you were gravity. Always there. Always pulling me your way. But that  can't be it either, because you don't pull me down. You lift me up when  there's no reason I should be able to stand."

My stomach twists in knots of hope and worry. Of love and insecurity.  I've spent too much of my life not saying what needs to be said. When  Mom left, I didn't tell her how much that hurt me. When Dad reacted to  Nic's death as if he'd lost his only child, I didn't take away his booze  and tell him he still had a daughter who needed him. I can't be like  that anymore. "Arrow, you pushed me away when I wanted to stand by your  side."

He slides a hand into my hair and scoots closer. His mouth is a breath  from mine; each word could almost be a kiss. "But that's exactly it.  You're too important to be brought down by me. To me, you're everything.  And this morning when I told you I wanted you to be free of me, know  that I meant exactly that. I've never wanted to be free of you, only the  other way around."

I shift and our lips brush. The contact is electric, and I want to do it  again and again, but I make myself back up an inch. I'm going to try to  say this without hiding behind analogies, a lover of metaphors  stripping bare. "It's always been you. And I know you think you need to  free me because our past is complicated, but I'm here to tell you that  if I'm free, if I can choose, I'll be right by your side. Because I love  you."

He exhales slowly, then slides his hand behind my neck. "I love you, too. You are the most important pieces of my heart."

When he finally kisses me, I melt into him.





One week later . . .



The sun is shining and my friends lounge around the pool, lazy thanks to  full bellies and warm sun, and Mia's in my arms. Mason cooked us  burgers on the grill, and Chris cleaned up after, insisting that Mia  gets her share of domestic duties through the week.

I used to lie in bed trying to rewrite the past in a way that would mean  Brogan would still be with us. But after everything that's happened  during the past week, I've begun to accept that I don't get a redo. What  I get is today. What I know is that in a world that has proved to be  too cruel to bear during some moments, other times prove to be  impossibly perfect.