“I’m not sure I’d say favorite. But I always love to watch the ’Stros win.” Jake leaned back against his desk and crossed his arms.
“You’ve always said he’s your favorite. You should have him sign his rookie card. How cool would that be?” Noah rocked onto the balls of his feet and pointed over to the shelf Corey hadn’t noticed. “You’d do it, right?”
“Noah,” Jake’s voice warned.
“Sorry, sir,” Noah said quickly and headed out the door.
“I’d be happy to sign it for you, sir.” Corey stood up and headed for the shelf covered in Astros stuff. His gaze narrowed as he got closer. “Holy shit,” he muttered, grabbing the picture of himself off the shelf.
“I wondered about that,” Jake said from behind him. “She was finishing up her reign as Miss Teen Texas. If I recall correctly, the world series game was her last official outing. That’s her late fiancé with her.”
Corey stared at the eight-year-old photo at game seven of the world series. He stood between a young man in Navy dress whites and a younger version of Taran in a red dress, white sash, and crown. He vaguely remembered being pulled off warm-ups for the publicity shot with little miss sunshine. It seemed impossible the bubbly teenager had been Taran.
“She was always the brightest spot in the family; so happy. Had plans to save the world one story at a time.”
Corey looked up at Jake’s reflective tone. He stood in the same spot, leaning against the desk.
“I probably wouldn’t recognize her as the same girl either, and I’m her father. That accident changed her. Pretty quickly, that bright light became a snarky pain in the ass who silently flips the world off one rude T-shirt at a time.”
Corey set the photo down. “No disrespect, sir, but that snarky pain in the ass is becoming the best part of my life.”
“Since your days with the ’Stros, you’ve been popular in this family.” Jake tilted his chin toward the photo on the shelf. “But my daughter has been through enough. So don’t think your standin’ with this family won’t drop drastically if you hurt her.”
“Did you just threaten Corey Matthews?” Taran asked from the doorway.
Jake smirked at his daughter as he pushed his hip from the desk and headed toward her. “Who he is isn’t as important as what he is and how he treats you, kid.”
Jake patted his daughter on the shoulder before leaving the room.
“Whatever you said to Noah was perfect. I’ve never seen him bounce back from his brother’s teasing that fast before,” Taran said.
“Glad I could help.”
“I’m not pushing,” Taran paused, and Corey braced for what she might say, “but there are a ton of kids who may benefit from hearing how their hero has battled and overcome their same demons.”
Corey swallowed. He got what she was saying. He should talk about it, and helping Noah feel more confident had felt good. Corey knew it would have made a world of difference in his life if someone had spoken to him as a child—told him that it would get better.
“I’ll think about it,” he promised. Because if there was a person who could tell his story right, it was the woman across the room. But he didn’t want to talk about it anymore right now. “You didn’t tell me we’d met before, chipmunk.” Corey picked up the photo of them.
Taran groaned, but Corey wasn’t sure if it was about the nickname or the photo. She scuffed her Converse against the carpet twice before looking up at him. He was still standing by her dad’s Astros shelf, and she finally moved toward him to take the picture out of his hands.
“That girl in the crown and the dress? Yeah, you met her. But she’s gone.” Taran swallowed.
Corey wrapped his arms around her tiny waist, and she melted into him. The warmth of her cheek pressed against his heart.
“She disappeared two years ago, and even though a lot of people wish she would come back. I’m not her anymore.”
“I’m sorry for what you went through, Taran.” Corey pressed his lips against the crown of her head. “But I’m not sorry that girl is gone. She was a dime a dozen. I barely remember her. But the woman in my arms right now—the one I bumped into in the parking garage three months ago? I can’t stop thinking about her.”