“Mom needs to lighten up,” he slurs.
While I agree, I hide the small smile that wants to form from his statement and grab ahold of his shirt sleeve. “C’mon. I’ll stop and buy you something from a drive thru to sober up. You’ve got an interview in the morning, remember?”
He jerked his arm back and shoves my hand away. I lose my balance on the curb and fall backward into the street.
There are headlights.
A loud horn blaring.
Then…impact.
I’ll always remember the pain that radiated throughout my body once the car struck me—how my leg bent at an unnatural angle and my piercing scream echoed down the street. I couldn’t move, couldn’t think, as Noah and a few of his buddies circled around me. The driver had gotten out and called 911 while everyone else in my brother’s group ran like a bunch of pussies.
Noah sobered up quickly when the sirens came and stared silently at me the entire way to the hospital in the ambulance. Police questioned him after paramedics had rushed me into the emergency room, then he’d called our parents.
But my brother didn’t stay.
Not only had his actions shattered my leg in four places that required multiple extensive surgeries to fix, but he didn’t even wait to make sure I was okay before bailing.
The next morning, he’d skipped his interview and was seen photographed with the same people he was with the night before. Different clothes. Same drunken choices. Dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. Twitchy. Mom started freaking out in my hospital room. Not for me. For Noah because she thought he was on something when she saw the images featured on TMZ and every other gossip outlet that could get their hands on them.
My leg still aches to this day. It’s stiff in the morning and sore at night. If I don’t elevate it with ice or heat at least once a week then I’m fucked. Even though the doctors made it clear I wouldn’t be able to play professionally again, I held onto hope through each surgery and physical therapy session. It wasn’t until a year and a half later when I got the official news.
I was done.
The day I realized my fate, I stared at my cell phone debating on who to call. I wanted to tell Noah about what he’d done. But I didn’t do that because I figured he wouldn’t give a shit even if he did pick up when he saw my number across his screen. Why would he care when he couldn’t even visit me more often after what he’d caused?
But Adelaide did.
So, I called her first.
Told her what I couldn’t even tell my own brother. My parents. She listened to me, then sat in silence with me over the phone for twenty minutes before saying how sorry she was.
It wasn’t until a week later that I finally told Mom and Dad the news. Addy was there, so was Noah. She gave me a reassuring smile that grounded me for the reactions I was dreading from the others.
Truth is, Adelaide Peters still grounds me.
Which is why I didn’t want to fuck up anything for her even if I threatened as much. The photos of us were bought out by me for a pretty penny so they weren’t spread around the internet. One call to my former agent and the mess I’d created was cleaned up. For her. Not for me.
Definitely not for Noah.
It wasn’t until seeing Mom walking toward the bedroom door Addy had just left at the party that I decided enough was enough.
I took the plate of food from her, opened the door, and slipped inside for a one-on-one that should’ve happened a long damn time ago.
And that’s when I heard it.
The crying.
When I walked into the bathroom, I saw my brother sitting on the bench in the massive shower with his face in his hands and his shoulders shaking as water poured down on him.
It was the first time in a long time that I looked at my sibling and saw someone human.
Somebody broken.
That’s when I made my choice. I was done feeling this way. I walked over, turned off the water, and grabbed a towel for him. We said nothing to each other as he dried off and met me in the bedroom where I waited with his food.
He’d looked at me with red eyes.
Looked at my offering.
And said, “I’m sorry, Daire. I keep fucking up.”
The words spoken so brokenly were the reason I nodded my head, passed him the plate, and said, “I know. Eat this and finish that water. You and I have some shit to clear up before I leave.”
By the end of the night, I’d walked out my parent’s penthouse with closure, an address, and a mission.
Which is how I find myself staring at the white door in front of me debating on whether it’s a good idea to knock or not.
But I do.
Because I’m not here to be a chickenshit like I have since the day I put distance between me and the girl who cracks the door open. Her fiery hair is pulled up in a messy bun that greets me as I offer her a smile and lean against the doorjamb. “We have unfinished business,” I tell Addy as she stands in cute ass Christmas pajamas. She gapes at me, only making me smile wider at her silence. “If you’ll let me inside.”
Chapter 11
Adelaide
* * *
I’m hyperaware of the fact I’m wearing cotton pajama shorts that barely cover my ass and a thin white shirt that says Santa’s Ho across the front in red cursive lettering. All it takes is his eyes roaming over me for my nipples to harder like the traitors they are, and there’s no hiding them from his lingering gaze.
Shifting on my feet, I grip the door. “Are you lost or something?”
His grin kicks up higher. “Or something.” He looks past my shoulder into the apartment behind me where A Christmas Story is playing in the background. “My brother gave me your address.”
I gape. “Excuse me?”
“Noah. My little brother. Your best friend and not boyfriend.” His eye twitches at that revelation like he’s still having problems accepting it. “After you left I decided to rip off the Band-Aid. We talked for a while. Didn’t even raise my voice…much. I think our parents were eavesdropping outside the door.”
I wouldn’t put it past their mother to do that. “Does this mean you two are okay now?”
I can’t imagine why else Noah would have given Daire my address. He’s hurt and tends to hold grudges longer than a day.
“Can I come in?” the oldest Scott brother asks, gesturing toward my apartment. “I smell cookies, and I think the best part of the movie is about to happen. Not often you get to laugh over a kid getting his tongue frozen to a pole without being considered an asshole for it. Believe me. Been there with one of my hockey players.”
“You like this movie?” He knows Christmas is my favorite holiday like I know his is Halloween. He used to do anything he could to scare the crap out of me and Noah whenever he could during spooky season. It’s not like he’s a Scrooge this time of year, but he’s never stuck around whenever Noah and I would put something classic on to watch whenever he was visiting his family during the holiday season.
“It’s my favorite,” he admits.
I find myself stepping aside and watching him enter my personal space. Noah is the only one who’s ever been over. I like to keep my life outside of work as private as possible, especially because my apartment is small compared to most of the other people I know. The furniture isn’t very expensive and there’s a lot more clutter than what I should keep around.