It’s Always Us (Abandoned Brothers #3)

Chapter 22

LEX

I turn the key in the ignition, and my truck rumbles to life. I yawn, buckling my seat belt. I huddle close to the steering wheel, bracing myself from the cold. The winter sky is black, and I already miss the warm, dry air we left behind.

“If it weren’t yours, I wouldn’t believe this old girl still runs.”

I turn and smile at Mark. “I told you she’s got good bones.”

“Babe, that was, what, ten years ago?”

I grin, surveying my restored F-150. Her crisp black lines are everything my teenage heart longed for, and the woman in me still loves. “I’m good at what I do.”

I throw cockiness back at him, and a smoldering, sly smile spreads wide across his too handsome face. After these past few days with him, playing it cool is becoming increasingly difficult.

He pulls my hand to his lips and kisses the back of it. “That you are.”

“I’d restore trucks every day if I could.” His eyes stay locked on mine in deep thought, and I have to look away, or I might do something in the airport parking lot that I’m pretty sure isn’t allowed. “You ready?” I ask, linking my fingers with his as he continues to study my face.

He tries to smile, but I see through it. “As I’ll ever be.”

His unusual nerves make me smile. I lean over to press my lips to the edge of his jaw, purposefully avoiding his lips.

I reign in my hormones with some kind of superhuman, pregnancy strength and put the truck in drive. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Mark nervous, but his quietness makes me wonder. I’m not worried about telling Grandpa. Mark shouldn’t be, either. The old man loves him. In high school, Mark practically lived at our house when he wasn’t at practice or making curfew at the group home.

It’s sharing the news with my mom and the guys at the shop that will be . . . interesting. Then there’s the little thing of talking to Grandpa about Slade buying him out, which reawakens a deep ache every time I think about it. That’s the conversation I’m not sure I’m ready to have.

I glance at Mark, and my breath catches in my throat at the reality of him being here, next to me. No longer the boy I fell in love with, but a man who I’m beginning to see is so much the same inside, but with a confident, sexy swagger that comes from growing completely comfortable with himself.

These past few days, waking up next to him makes this feel real again, and I don’t want it to end.

Three nights ago, when we lay in his backyard sharing painful truths, it was as if we were finally coming home to one another. Like the old us was meeting the new us, and I don’t want to lose that progress or get lost in the separation we’ll face again when he has to leave.

Mark told me the carousel of women wasn’t as it appeared, and I believe him. He said he wanted to forget, and I understand that, too. Hadn’t that been what I’d tried to do with Seth? And no matter how hard I tried, Mark was always there, blocking my heart from ever being given to another.

I can’t blame him for any of it, even if it had been what it seemed. It hurt like hell seeing him with other women, but I was the one who didn’t show up. I was the one who stayed away and made him believe something that wasn’t true.

I did it to give him a chance. To save him from being dragged down and never having the life he deserved. But as I lay there with him, learning the pain I caused, which I could see extended beyond what he admitted, I wondered if I did the right thing.

I tried that night to tell him. All of it, but Slade’s stupid, growly voice kept reminding me that the past belongs right where it is. I weighed the truth, unable to force it out, and despite how much Slade hurt me, maybe he’s right. What good would it do ?

Telling Mark the truth means hurting him all over again, and I’m not sure I’m willing to do further damage. It’s over now, and he and I are trying to move forward.

I squeeze his hand, needing to remind myself that the present is what matters. He squeezes mine back, that slick smile causing a warm sensation in my core that sends pulses to the rest of my body.

Fifteen minutes later, I pull into the driveway of the simple, white-sided, two-story home. My home. The small front porch, bare shrubs, and dead grass are all the same, just as I left them, but everything else in my life is totally different.

Parking my truck right next to Grandpa’s, I turn to Mark. “You ok?”

He surveys the house. “I feel like I’m sixteen again heading in to tell your Grandpa I got you pregnant.” I smile, and he catches me. “What?”

“You’re cute when you’re nervous.” I unbuckle and scoot closer to him.

“Baby, I’m not nervous. It’s the best news of my entire life.” He slips his hand behind my neck, pulling me close and resting his forehead against mine. “Buckle up, sweetheart. After this, we’re telling the whole world.”

My stomach jumps into a rolling somersault. “You’re making this ‘taking things slow’ stuff really difficult.”

That small, sly grin returns and this man knows exactly what he’s doing. “That was your idea, not mine. Slow isn’t really in my vocabulary.” His lips are an inch from mine, his breath whooshing across them as his eyes dare me.

My entire body hums with need. “Huh, I never noticed.” It comes out as a pathetic whisper, and I might see the beginning of a smug smirk, but it’s gone too fast as he pulls away and opens the door.

He doesn’t have any idea what is going on inside me with all these hormones, and right now, I might kill him. I sit for a second, letting those bad boys slither back into place while he casually climbs out. I help him grab our suitcases, but if his shoulder wasn’t still a bit fragile, I’d punch him.

It’s possible I stomp to the back door, and he follows but stops, taking a deep breath as I unlock it. He’s not nervous, my ass. I might not feel so bad if Grandpa wants to rough him up a little .

Inside, I hear the rumble of the TV, and I have no doubt Grandpa’s eating fast-food and watching the news. Mark pulls our bags inside, and the old man hollers.

“Either you’re finally home, or whoever is robbing me is a real dumbass thinking there’s something of value in here.”

I smile and head for the living room, ready to face the man I’ve missed these past few days, even though the massive bruise on my heart remains.

I round the corner to the small room with a couch and Grandpa’s recliner shoved into the corner. The brick fireplace sits unlit, but the TV flickers as Grandpa takes a bite of a double burger.

“You shouldn’t be eating that,” I say as he wipes his mouth.

“I’m too old to care. It tastes good, and my chef left without notice. If this pushes my arteries into overdrive, that’s your damn fault.”

I let my head fall to the side, happy to see we’re falling right back into our rhythm even though I haven’t handled things in the best manner. “I’m sorry I just left. I was hurt, and . . . there was something I had to do.”

“So, you said in your message. Anyone ever told you your verbal skills are lacking?” I bite my lip, knowing my quiet nature irritates the hell out of Mark, but I also know these two men, my favorite ones, love it.

He sets down what I have no doubt is a milkshake and rests back in his chair. Anyone who thinks only women eat their feelings are fools. Rather than cake and ice cream, these jokers mop up their tears with beer and grease.

He raises a gray, bushy eyebrow that needs a lawn mower taken to it as he casually shuffles his fries around in the carton. “Want to talk about it?”

I find my earring and give it a couple of twists to calm the swirl of emotion flowing through me. “Actually, I need to tell you something.” This man is not soft by any stretch of the imagination, but as his gray-blue eyes find mine, I see a tentativeness there that’s as rare as a Ford GT. “But—”

Mark finally rounds the corner and steps beside me, sliding his recently freed arm carefully around me. His large hand stops to rest low on my hip but mostly on my butt. Him and all his touchy-feely tendencies. I might as well light myself on fire .

Grandpa’s eyebrows shoot higher. He doesn’t say a word, and I know the stubborn old goat is going to make me say it.

“ We have something to tell you,” Mark says, evidently having ditched his nerves in the kitchen. He grins like he just won the Super Bowl.

Damn him and that smile and his hands and every last stitch of manly self-assuredness.

Grandpa rests back in his chair, eyeing us as my pores prickle with sweat. Are nerves transmitted through contact? I inhale slowly.

“When I played in Vegas, Lex showed up, and I asked her to marry me.” Mark just throws it out there like it’s no big deal or surprise.

I watch Grandpa’s face, and the man should’ve joined the CIA because he doesn’t even flinch. I’m not sure he’s even breathing.

Mark continues, unfazed. “She said yes, or actually ok, and I wasn’t about to let her leave without making her mine forever.”

Mark’s fingers stretch to my hip, pulling me into him while I wait, watching. The only sound in the room is some news anchor droning on about gas prices.

Eventually, one rough hand reaches up and scratches at his day-old whiskers as his eyes move to mine. “You’re married . . . to this one?” He points at Mark.

I bite my lip and nod. “Also,” I say softly, needing to get it out. “I’m pregnant.”

The news suddenly flips to a commercial, and the room vibrates from the increase in volume. Grandpa’s blue-gray eyes zero in on Mark and stay there, and his body presses closer to mine as if maybe his carefree attitude bolts. Ha.

The silence would be deafening, but the commercial blares on instead.

Eventually, Grandpa leans forward in his chair. “ You got my granddaughter pregnant?” he asks Mark like we’re sixteen again, and my insides wiggle just a little at his tone.

Mark’s arm pulls me even tighter, my shoulder pressing into his chest. “Yes, but I was sure to marry her first.” His voice is clear and confident, and I press into him this time, wanting to wrap him up and also kiss him like never before.

“The two of you are married and having a baby.” Grandpa’s finger wags between us .

I stare at him, wondering what in the hell is going on. I know he didn’t go deaf, but then again, the blaring TV filters through, making me question.

“Grandpa,” I say, getting his attention. “Mark and I are married. I’ve been with him these past few days in Phoenix, and we’re having a baby.” The words I’d never in a million years thought I’d say roll right off my tongue.

“Well, hot damn!” Grandpa jumps up like a spry fox. “Congratulations, boy. Hell, it took you long enough to get your ass back here.” He lunges forward and wraps Mark in a bear hug while I stand speechless. “I’m going to be a great-grandpa. How about that?” He claps Mark on the back, and I wonder if he remembers I have a role in this.

Grandpa beams at me and pulls me in for a hug with what might be tears in his eyes. Mark stands to the side, grinning like he just stole the last cookie from the cookie jar. I knew Grandpa wouldn’t be mad or disappointed, but I didn’t expect him to start prancing around as if he won the Mega Pot.

Grandpa leans back, holding my face in his hands, and those tears cause pools to form in my own. “My brave girl. It was always the Mustang.”

“What’s the deal with Mustangs?” Mark asks, eyeing the two of us. I think he might be catching on.

An ornery smile pulls at my Grandpa’s lips. “Damn. I’ve got to tell the boys. They’re going to . . . Sandberg and a baby. Ha!”

“Hold on, Grandpa.” I grab his arm. “I’m stopping by the shop in the morning, and then I have my first appointment, so you’re keeping your big mouth shut until then.”

His elation falters. “Pal, you can’t be on the floor pregnant. If anything happened . . . ”

Mark’s hand presses into the small of my back, and it’s comforting.

“Grandpa, I can’t sit around handing back keys. I’ll go crazy.” My eyes shift to the floor. “I know we need to talk about Slade buying the shop—”

He cuts me off. “Not tonight, but you should know we were only talking. We would’ve told you that if you’d stuck around.”

“We have a lot of things to figure out,” Mark says, breaking the tension .

“What time is your appointment?” Grandpa asks, smiling again. “I want a picture of my grandbaby.”

“Ten,” I say, and his gaze drops to my stomach, hidden under my sweatshirt.

He gestures to my midsection. “How long have you been hiding that?”

Memories of Mark’s reaction flood the forefront of my mind. I lift my sweatshirt to reveal my snug T-shirt underneath.

His eyes grow wide at my little bulge. “Well, shit, Pal. No, hiding that anymore.”

“Thanks, Grandpa.”

“You plan on telling your mom?” he asks, moving back to his chair and taking a bite of his burger.

I pull Mark to the couch, and he sits next to me, throwing his arm over the back while keeping his other tucked securely to his body. “I’m going to see if she wants to have dinner. Mark can only stay until Friday.”

“I’ll be sure to disconnect my phone and sleep at the shop until you give me the all-clear.”

I roll my eyes at him. “She’s preoccupied with a new man, so hopefully that will help.”

His body shakes with laughter, and Mark’s eyes meet mine.

I eye Grandpa. “What’s so funny?”

“I want to be there when she finds out you’re married to Sandberg. She was all hung up on Mr. Shiny Shoes.”

“She doesn’t know anything about Mark, and I’m fine keeping it that way for as long as possible.”

“I don’t get it,” Mark says.

I turn toward him. “You know how my mom was. She wanted me to find someone to take care of me. When she finds out you’re one of the highest-paid players in the NFL—”

“So, she’s going to be ecstatic,” Mark smiles.

I frown. “Uh . . . yeah, probably, but I’m not telling her what you do. I’ll be surprised if she knows who you are. She’ll tell me my life is over, and someday when she figures it out, well then . . . she can think whatever she wants.”

Mark kisses my forehead. “There’s going to be a lot of people who think a lot of things. She’s not going to be the first or the last. ”

Great. My stomach lurches. People have always had a lot to think and say when they find out I read at a first-grade level and worse when I feel pressured.

Grandpa slurps the end of his shake. “I’m going to have fun watching how this all turns out.” He points at Mark. “I fed your growing ass for years. I have two posters that need signing. Tickets to a game for all my pain, suffering, and worrying about your hormonal teenage tendencies would be sufficient compensation.”

Mark laughs. “Any team I should stay away from during negotiations that wouldn’t fit the bill?”

“Don’t even think about taking my granddaughter or that baby anywhere near the city.” He gives Mark a look that says he means business, then moves right on as if Mark never went missing. “That brother of yours has got a good thing going on after the trade. You going to the big game?”

Life has been crazy these past weeks, and I haven’t watched the remaining playoff games, but I know that Mark’s brother, Sean, is playing in the Super Bowl.

Mark shifts next to me, and his hand drops to my shoulder. “Yes. Shane and his family will be there, and I have the awards beforehand.” His chin dips to look at me. “Maybe you could come with me.” His eyes hold an unusual hint of shyness that I don’t understand. Mark is never shy.

“To the awards?” I ask, thinking about what that would mean. It would mean being on full display in front of the entire world.

“Both,” he says quickly.

Grandpa must sense my apprehension and jumps in. “Pal, there isn’t going to be a whole lot you can do around here.”

I slump. “I can’t go the next six months without a paycheck.”

The old fart snickers at my comment, like the idea of needing money is absurd. Mark’s hand squeezes mine.

I inhale and let it out, resting my head on his shoulder and settling back into real life.

Trying to let it all go for tonight, I relax into Mark and yawn while he tells Grandpa about his surgery and expedited recovery plan.

I listen as he talks about his agent gathering information, but for now, everything is speculation. Any solid interest will depend on his progress over the weeks ahead. I run a hand over my stomach and focus on the warm body next to mine, trying not to think about what it all means.

______

Mark sets his suitcase down in my small room and sits on the foot of my bed. I close the door as he looks around, taking in every square inch. I unzip my tight jeans, and it’s instant relief.

“This is my teenage fantasy come true.” That mischievous grin appears as he watches me peel off my jeans and toss them in the closet.

“What? Watching me struggle with my too-tight pants.” I grab a scrunchy and twist my hair into a low, loose bun.

“You have no idea how many nights I laid in that small, horrible bed above Shane, pondering the risk of sneaking out and crawling in this bed with you. You taking off your pants sweetens the entire vision.”

He stares, taking me in, and I will my face not to flush, surveying my small, safe space—its light gray walls, white duvet, and curtains. An old wooden dresser with a mirror sits along one wall with a nightstand beside my bed. In the corner is my tiny bathroom with a shower.

“It’s pretty much the same. My walls were lavender when I moved in, but Grandpa and I painted them that summer.” I pull my sweatshirt off, leaving on my long T-shirt that’s stretched tight. “It’s a little strange to have you in here.”

He reaches forward and pulls me between his legs, his hands resting on my hips. His forehead presses against my stomach as memories of a younger us flash through my mind.

Mark tugs my wrist, pulling me down, and I straddle his lap. One hand dives underneath my shirt and runs up my spine. I shiver, and a smirk skirts across his lips before he inches me closer, my chest pressing into his.

I let out a long, slow breath. “How’s your shoulder?”

“Not a problem at the moment.” It comes out ragged.

He stills, our lips inches apart, and he studies me, letting me decide. “I think I might actually die of starvation if you keep this charade up much longer.”

“Charade?” I ask with innocence .

His fingers slide down my back, digging into my hip. “Is this how things are now, Lex?”

“I don’t know. You seemed to enjoy torturing me earlier.”

“Torture?” His eyebrows hitch up, but the sexy stare remains. He leans down close to my ear. “Hmmm. So, we’re talking revenge, huh? I don’t know that I can be expected to behave myself when I’m currently reliving every teenage desire.”

I run my hands up his arms, wrapping them around his cut biceps. “Oh, but you’re so much stronger now than you were then.”

“Not when it comes to you.” It sounds like a promise, and I bite my lip, trying to suppress a smile. His thumb runs across my cheek, his eyes suddenly turning serious. “Baby, I’m running very close to my limit, and I can’t be held responsible for what happens when I hit it.”

A shot of adrenaline zips through my body, and my need for him reaches unbearable heights.

I press my forehead to his, squeezing my eyes shut tight. “I could get lost in this with you.” It comes out as a whisper. I could, but I wonder how long it would take until I woke up. The small bump between us deserves more than that. It deserves to come into this world with a strong, stable foundation between us.

His lips brush against my cheek. “I’m all in. There’s no going back. Ever.”

I don’t know a lot at the moment, but I know he means every word. I slide my hands around the back of his neck, holding him close as I run my lips over his jaw to the corner of his mouth. His body tenses, and I know it’s taking every ounce of his strength to hold back. Payback really sucks.

His hands run up my sides, pushing my T-shirt—

“Sandberg!” His hands freeze around my ribs at Grandpa’s loud bellow from the bottom of the stairs. “I don’t care who you are now and how much money you make. She’s still my granddaughter, and this is my house.”

Mark huffs and almost sounds painful. “Yes, sir.” He drops back on the bed, holding his shoulder and running a hand over his face. “I knew he’d bust my balls.”

I lay down beside him, giving us space. We lay there in the quiet, and I stare at the ceiling, floating back down to reality .

I remember all the nights I cried myself to sleep, thinking he’d never be mine again. I can’t ever go back to that. As the blissful fog clears, my mind starts sprinting, heading absolutely nowhere fast.

After a minute, Mark rolls on his side to face me. “Tell me what’s going on up here.” He taps my temple. “You got pretty quiet downstairs.”

The past couple of days, when it was just Mark and me, the real world felt far away. Being back home, the reality of our situation is roaring to life again.

Hmmm. There are so many things. Where would I even start? There’s the fun of sharing the good news with my mom, which will suck the life out of me. Or not knowing how my guys, my best friends, will react. I have to face Slade and the fact that he’s probably about to blow his lid since I’ve been ignoring him. The recent confirmation that Grandpa won’t let me on the floor. And I only have two more days with Mark, and then we’ll be back to being apart.

If that’s not enough, there’s also the little thing of having him here that calls up the secrets I still hold, and the weight of them is growing enormously heavy.

Mark moves closer, his arm curling around my middle. “Lex, tell me. I know your brain is in overdrive.”

I take another second to figure out where to begin. “When it’s just you and me, it feels like everything is going to be ok. Coming back . . . all the unknown is smacking me in the face. I need to tell my mom, and I know how that will go. The stuff with the shop. You heard Grandpa. I’ll be sitting behind a desk tagging keys.”

“Babe, one thing at a time. You don’t have to figure this all out by yourself anymore.”

I turn toward him, resting on my side. “Mark, you’re leaving.” I grip his shirt, needing to ground my racing mind.

He tips my chin up, forcing me to look at him. “Come with me. When I start negotiating, we’ll see what the options are and decide together. If you can’t work anyway . . . ”

I close my eyes as the desire to run away with him and the fear of doing that war within me. “Mark.” My voice sounds as small as I feel. “This is where my life is. The thought of leaving . . . it’s terrifying. ”

His strong arm hooks around me and tugs me closer, my body pressed to his. “I know, but I’ll be there. We’ll figure out how to navigate things together. I don’t want you to be afraid to be with me.”

“I’ve never felt safer than when I’m with you, but I’m not made to sit around waiting for you to come home. These past few months, you were busy every moment.”

He pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. “It’s not like that in the offseason, and I’m talking to my agent about cutting back as contracts expire.”

“Ok, but . . . ” I hold my breath, taking a second to shuffle through my pile of insecurities and pick one. Screw it. I need to quit being a coward.

“It’s not only that. Mark, it’s the rest of the world. Your world. The one that doesn’t understand me or my limitations. I’ve seen players’ wives and girlfriends. They’re ridiculously beautiful, poised, and professional. Your world is big, bright, and loud; those women handle it all gracefully. I’m none of those things.”

I pause, forcing myself to be brave and let go of everything that’s had a chokehold on me since I stepped out of the hotel in Vegas. “You’re the best quarterback in the NFL. I’m just a girl covered in grease who works with men who burp and fart like it’s what they get paid to do. People look down on me for what I do, and that’s before they realize I’m practically illiterate.”

The Ford dually stalled on my chest, finally turns over and drives off.

When he doesn’t say anything, I risk a peek at him. His black brows are tipped in slightly, his eyes roaming my face with such fierceness I almost have to look away.

“Lex . . . ” His nickname for me comes out like it’s challenging to remain calm, and I pull back a little. His hand wraps around my waist, holding me there.

“Lex, you are my wife. I want you by my side wherever I am. All the time.” He pauses, making sure I’m listening. “When it’s bright and loud . . . when those blowhards who think they know you want to make assumptions, you hold on to me. I’ll handle them and the noise.” His hand slides up my back, pulling me close again. “They don’t mean anything. ”

I stare into his big, brown eyes. So earnest and good, and I don’t deserve any of it. I tuck myself into him, resting my forehead against his chest, where it’s safe, and give him the rest of it.

“I’m scared. Everything is happening so fast, and I feel . . . lost,” I whisper. “I don’t think I can do this without you.”

His lips press against the top of my head, his arms fully surrounding me. “You’re not going to. We just need some time to sort it all out.”

I want to believe him and time is all we need, but I’m growing a beautiful little time bomb that will blast right into our world regardless of where we’re at.

We lie twined together, and my eyes get heavy.

I push up. “I need a shower.”

He yawns, grabbing his phone.

I pull shorts and a shirt from my dresser and shower while Mark scrolls his phone. When I open the bathroom door, he’s sitting in the same spot, shirtless, fisting a tattered and worn gray shirt.

“What’s this?” He holds it out, his eyes a little red.

I stand perfectly still, knowing he knows exactly what it is.

“Lex . . . ” he breathes out, his head dropping and his voice shaky. “Dammit.”

I cross my arms over my chest, suddenly feeling very exposed. He wasn’t supposed to see that. “It was all I had.”

He stands, anger and confusion filling his sharp features, still gripping the holey, threadbare shirt. “Why? Why did you leave me? I waited every day to hear from you.”

My voice catches in my throat. I don’t know what to say. Nothing will make it better.

I shake my head, staring at the floor. “I couldn’t.”

He steps closer. “What does that mean?”

I search for the only part of the truth I know for sure and force myself to face him. “I would’ve rather lived without you than have you stay here. Nothing here would’ve been good for you.”

His warm, rough hand slides against my cheek. “You were here. I would’ve stayed. I would’ve come back.”

“I know! That couldn’t happen,” I say, honestly, because it couldn’t. It would have destroyed him, slowly, one day at a time .

“I don’t understand.” His shoulders drop, his tall frame sagging, and I hate myself a little more.

I step into him and slide my arms around him, wanting to protect him just like I had then from anything that could hurt him. He suffered enough to last a lifetime. Only I’m afraid I might’ve hurt him the most.

I run my thumb across the black script on his ribs. “I meant it when I said it. Every word.” It’s the best I can do. I rest my head against him, holding him tight, but he doesn’t say anything. “I’m not wearing that shirt tonight.”

His arms come around me, wrapping me up. “You’re not wearing that damn shirt ever again. You’ re coming with me.”