“You just kept it a secret and colluded with Dad about it.” Harper finishes sweeping up the glass. She levels a judgmental glare at me before she dumps the contents of the dustpan in the trash.
I mean, I can’t argue with her point. And when Harper’s against me, I’ve gone and stepped in it.
“Fine. Yeah, I knew. It’s not like Tank told me he planned to do this or gave me a big heads-up. I found out today, just like the rest of you.”
“Not quite like the rest of us,” Collin says, still pointing his cigar at me. “You went there. You’ve known for hours. You sat there, laughing and joking like things were normal. Is that why you bought these cigars?”
“No,” I tell him, but my voice doesn’t even convince me. I’m not lying—just hiding the bigger reason I’m on board. I’m not sure dropping the Lindy news on them right now is the best option. I’m thankful Tank didn’t reveal that too.
“I’m out of here,” James says, pushing back from the table and striding toward the gate.
“Jamie,” Harper calls. She’s the only one who can get away with calling him that, and she only does so when she needs the big guns. Tonight, she needs more like a cannon.
James pauses, one hand on the gate. He doesn’t turn around but inclines his head the slightest bit.
“Take some time,” my oh-so-wise sister says. “Then let’s hear Dad out. Maybe Pat too. Maybe.”
I throw my hands up. “How am I the big bad guy here when Tank is the one who did the purchasing and the planning?”
“I probably wouldn’t say anything more if I were you,” Chase mutters under his breath, shrugging when Harper narrows her eyes at him.
“James?” Harper calls again.
He grunts a response, which translates to, Caveman mad at family. Me go brood in cave. Maybe forgive later.
Then, he’s gone.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Collin asks, as soon as we hear the throaty purr of James’s motorcycle roaring down the street.
“Tank stole my phone.”
Harper shoots a pointed glare at the device in question, sitting next to me on the table.
“He stole it while we went there,” I clarify.
“I still can’t believe you went there.” Collin stands up, pacing near the edge of the pool, dragging his hands through his hair until it stands on end.
Then he’s definitely not going to believe who I saw there. One of the rules Lindy and I had about our so-called casual relationship was no family members. No meeting them, no talking about them. Which was a challenge considering how close my family is.
After phonecallpocalypse, where Lindy told me what I now know were lies about how happy she was, I was crushed. Like, stuffed inside of one of those car compactor things CRUSHED.
And though my family may not have known her name or exactly what happened, everyone knew that someone broke my heart. My impulsivity hit all new highs. Or lows, depending on how you look at it. I made stupid decisions, like marrying Padma and getting involved with women who I knew were only interested in my fame. I spiraled from there into not caring about anything, which is not the same as my typical devil-may-care cheerful optimism.
I didn’t care about football. My health, mental or physical. My money. My contract. My future.
Why did any of it matter without HER?
My brothers began referring to Lindy as The Woman, like Irene Adler in the BBC Sherlock adaptation. I tried defending her, telling my brothers it was my fault. But they still put one hundred percent of the blame on The Woman. Maybe more like ninety percent. Because I kept telling them I screwed it up and, well, it’s not like I had a good track record before that with relationships.