“Aww. Just…” He blinks, his throat moving with a deep swallow. “Just doing my job. How’s your mother? Your sisters?”
He moves to small talk because I suspect his emotions tonight are hard to keep under control. Having said my piece, I turn to leave, only to come face to face with Cliff.
“Fletcher,” I say, barely sparing him a glance, and move to walk around him.
“Wait.” His hand snakes out and grabs my arm.
I look from the grip he has on me to his face. Is he really going to do this shit on Coach’s big night? I don’t answer but stare at him, waiting.
“I need to talk to you,” he says, tipping his head toward the gym exit.
Tension rises around us as people watch our interaction. If he’s gonna show out, the least we can do is go somewhere everyone won’t see it.
“Sure.” I shrug and head for the exit without checking to see if he’s following.
Once we’re in the hall, he glances at the glass case, his mouth assuming a bitter twist.
“I, um, I owe you an apology,” he says.
My eyes snap to his face, disbelief freezing me in place and keeping me silent.
“I’ve talked about you a lot over the years.” He scoffs. “To my sponsor, to doctors in rehab, to my family—to anyone who would listen to how you had ruined my life.”
I wait, wondering what changed since he talked to Takira last week.
“I had stopped going to group for a while,” he says. “After that last time I relapsed, I couldn’t face them. Felt like such a failure.”
“You went back?” I ask because he’s the one doing all the talking, and I don’t want him to think I’m not engaged, not really hearing him.
“Last week, yeah.” He glances at me, and his eyes are so much like Takira’s, but so much older, so much wearier, it makes my chest tighten. I know how much she loves him, and his pain is hers. And now hers is mine.
“When Kira told me about you and her…” He draws a sharp breath through his nose, rubs his mouth. “I was pissed. I kept thinking, him? Of all people, him? The guy who got everything that was supposed to be mine?”
I don’t correct him. At times I’ve felt the same way, even though I know it’s not actually true, a kind of survivor’s remorse.
“Believe me,” he goes on, “Mama has told me a million times I’m wrong. Everyone told me at some point, and I know it’s true.”
“You do?” I ask, my voice gruff with skepticism.
“It’s easier to blame you than to see in you all I could have been and had,” he says, a muscle clenching along his jaw. “And know I got nobody to blame but me.” He looks me in the eyes. “So I’m sorry. It’s overdue by years, but I’m sorry.”
“I appreciate that,” I tell him, nodding. “In a short time, I’ve come to care about your sister a lot. Scratch that. I’m in love with her.”
His stare is glued to my face.
“I hope one day we’ll be related,” I say with a wry smile, ignoring the surprise flashing across his expression. “And I want a better relationship with you, so I need to tell you something from jump.”
“All right,” he says. “Yeah,”
I pause, give it a second to make sure he’s looking right into the sobriety of my eyes. “If you ever disrespect Takira again like you did last week,” I say quietly, “I’ll fuck you up.”
“She’s my sister,” he says, not with anger, but just as a statement of fact.
“If you treat her like it, we won’t have a problem.”
For a moment, tension coils between us again, and I’m not sure he won’t punch me the way he did that coach, but then he cracks a wide smile.
“My man,” he says, patting me on the back. “Better you than me. She’s a handful to protect.”
I release a laugh, surprised and relieved by his comment. “I know, but I got it.”
He nods and looks back into the gym. “Well, I’m staying for the dinner. You?”
“Nah. I fly out tomorrow. Gonna go back to the hotel and get some rest.”
“So you ain’t leaving here and going by my mama’s house to see my sister?”
I can’t stop the smile that spreads over my face. “I might make one stop before I turn in, yeah.”