“Nothing better than this,” he said sleepily. “Waking up with you in my bed. I must have finally done something right.”
We were quiet and lazy for a while. It was Sunday, too. There was no place else I needed to be, except right there next to him. I brought his hand up to kiss it. “Hartley,” I whispered. “The other night, when I was drunk, you said you had some shit to shovel.”
“Yeah, I shoveled it,” he said.
“What was it?”
He turned his head, opening his eyes to look at me. “I don’t want to talk about her while I’m lying here with you.”
“Her. Really? What does Stacia have to do with it?”
“Plenty,” he said. “And she doesn’t even know.”
What? “Well, now you have to tell me.”
He rolled onto his stomach and put his chin in the crook of his elbow. “Nobody knows, actually. Not a soul.” His long eyelashes flicked up when he looked at me. I moved closer, putting my hand on the back of his neck, and he closed his eyes again. “You probably noticed that there’s no father in the picture for me.”
“Sure,” I breathed, caressing his neck. I could touch him all day long.
“He got my mom pregnant when they were both eighteen. She was a waitress at his country club.” He opened his eyes and looked up at me again. “My mom’s story has made me very, very careful, by the way. The next time you see a doctor, could you ask about…?”
Birth control. “Okay.” It might be tricky, though, because my history with blood clots would probably make me ineligible for the pill. But I would ask.
Hartley closed his eyes before continuing. “When I was little, my father’s parents used to send us money every month. But when I was six, they stopped, and he was supposed to start. But he never sent us a dime.”
“Classy,” I said. “And your mother didn’t go after him?”
He shook his head. “She said she wouldn’t embarrass him publicly. No matter that she was always embarrassed. No money, no dad to teach me to tie up my hockey skates…” he trailed off. I leaned over and kissed the velvety skin on his shoulder. “Mmm,” he smiled. “What was I saying?”
I stopped kissing him. “Your asshole father.”
“Right. Well, here I am in the hallowed halls of Harkness, working my tail off. I’ve learned to forget about him, except when I see his name in the newspaper.”
“You do?”
He nodded. “He’s a film producer — very successful. Top shelf. And that fucked with me too. I kept thinking that if I was successful, then maybe he’d acknowledge me. I even picked this school because of him.”
“But this school is great.”
“It’s great, unless you have a giant chip on your shoulder about rich people. It would have been more my style to take a hockey scholarship at Michigan or somewhere. But I came here, because he’s an alum.”
“Please don’t say you wish you hadn’t come to Harkness.” I nuzzled him.
“That’s not what I said.” He kissed my ear. “It’s just that I chose it for the wrong reasons, and it made my pile of shit deeper.”
I slid my body onto Hartley’s back, spreading out on him as if he were a piece of furniture. “What does your father have to do with Stacia?” I asked.
“Right,” he said. And then he took a deep breath. “Callahan, when you’re pressing your boobs against my back, it’s hard to think.”
“Try.”
“Okay…” he chuckled. “Stacia was dating Fairfax, and I thought she was the bitchiest, most high-maintenance girl I’d ever met. But one night she happened to mention that their neighbor in Greenwich had been to a dinner party her parents gave. Stacia is a big name-dropper.”
“And the neighbor…was your father?”
He nodded.
“Wow. Strange coincidence. So you asked her out because of that? Did you want to meet him?”
He was quiet for a moment. “No, I never tried to meet him. That wasn’t it. It was more like…she was inside the gates, and I was on the outside. So she became very attractive to me. If I could get her to love me, then I’d be a member too.” He swiveled his head around to look up at me. “This shit sounds even worse out loud than it does in my head.”
I sank my thumbs into his shoulder muscles. “Keep shoveling, Hartley.” I massaged his neck and he dropped his head in appreciation.
“Last year was great. I thought so at the time, anyway. I won her off of Fairfax.”
“Ouch,” I said.
He laughed. “That’s the only part of this story that isn’t awful. Because Fairfax didn’t mind that much. There’s only so much Stacia a guy can take. Anyway, I worked hard at being with her. It’s not like I just phoned it in, to get the invite to her mansion. We went on our little adventures, and she can party with the best of them. I took all the crap she could dish out. And every time I drove past my father’s house behind the wheel of Stacia’s Mercedes, it felt damned good.”
I stilled my hands on his back, thinking.
“You can say it,” Hartley said. “Pretty pathetic.”
“There is nothing pathetic about you,” I said. “I only wish you believed it. Did you ever see him?”
“No, and I didn’t expect to. I think he works out of L.A. a lot of the time. But once I saw his kids kicking a ball around on the lawn. It was only for a few seconds, because I had to keep driving. That was hard.”
“Oh my God! You have siblings. What did they look like? Did they look like you?”
He shrugged. “Hard to say. They looked like a Ralph Lauren ad. Clean and shiny. Two boys and a girl.”
Hartley rolled onto his side, sliding me off of him. We faced each other side by side. Self-conscious, I pulled the sheet up, covering my breasts.
“Don’t hide those,” Hartley grinned. “It took me months to get my shit together so that I could see them.”
“Months?”
“Sure.” His smile faded again. “This year has been hard, with the broken leg, no hockey, and no fancy princess around to prop me up. And then I started hanging around with you, Callahan. And that really fucked with my head.”
“Why?”
“Because you were so real. And you weren’t afraid to name all the things that scared you. And I realized I’d never had a single conversation with Stacia like I had with you. I was waiting around for a girl I didn’t love. But she said she still wanted me, and I couldn’t stop thinking it was important.” His eyes were sad. “I was afraid to cut the cord. It made me start hating myself.”
“Yikes.”
He blew out a breath. “On my birthday, I was sitting in here waiting for her, but the person I really needed was just across the hall. And even when I got off my ass and went to you, I wasn’t truthful. I made a game out of it, and it wasn’t a game.” He reached out, stroking my hair. “I tortured both of us, didn’t I? I’m sorry.”
That only made me smile. “I’m that transparent, huh?”
“Callahan, you were honest. You weren’t afraid to tell me to my face the other night, that you couldn’t just be friends. That killed me — that you were the one with the balls to say it. So I got ready to make it right.” He pulled me toward him, tucking my head onto his chest. I could hear his heart — glug glug — under my ear.
My pulse accelerated. I wasn’t quite used to the idea that he was holding me, just like I’d always wanted him to. My plan at that moment was to stay in his bed until he kicked me out. And yet I still had questions. “Does your mom know that you were sort of stalking your father?”
“No,” he said. “But even without the details, she was on to me. She knew there was something about my relationship with Stacia that wasn’t honest, and she loved beating me up about it. ‘Adam, why are you with her? She’s a stuck-up bitch, you’re smarter than that,’ and so on. My mom hates everything about Greenwich, Connecticut. And Stacia didn’t do a very good job of winning her over.”
“Were you ever tempted to tell Stacia about your father?”
I asked.
He shook his head. “You can’t show any weakness to Stacia. She’ll eat you for breakfast.”
“That’s not love.”
He kissed the top of my head. “I get that now. And here I am, spilling my guts to you first thing on a Sunday morning, like it’s no big deal. Because you’ve always got my back.”
“Actually…” I splayed my fingers across his belly. “I have your front.”
He pressed his nose into my hair. “Have more of it, baby.”
As my fingertips feathered across his waist, Hartley reached for me.
For me.
When I opened Hartley’s door an hour later, he was still lounging on his bed, half-dressed, flipping through Sports Illustrated. He sat up quickly. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you’d be ready so soon.”
“It was only fifteen minutes, no?”
He grinned, reaching for a T-shirt. “Some women say fifteen minutes when they mean forty-five.” He put a baseball cap over his messy hair. “I, on the other hand, need only forty-five seconds.” He went into the bathroom where I heard him brush his teeth.
I’d spent my fifteen minutes wisely, pulling myself together for brunch. I made more of an effort than I usually would, changing into new jeans and a top. I’d even added a slick of lip gloss. In other words, I didn’t want to walk into that dining hall looking like I’d just rolled out of bed with Hartley.
In spite of my preparations, my face began to burn as I hitched myself toward the top of the Beaumont dining hall stairs. I paused before the doorway, looking up at Hartley. “This is weird for me. I feel like it’s tattooed on my face,” I whispered.
He only looked amused. “You’re cute when you’re freaking out. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were embarrassed to be seen with me.”
“That must be it,” I said, taking a deep breath.
He moved very close to me, his hand resting on the small of my back. “How old is this place? Three hundred years?” He dropped his voice to a hot whisper. “We’re not the first people to have a whole lot of sex before Sunday brunch.”
His lips brushed my face, heating me everywhere. “The school has only been coed since the seventies,” I pointed out, inhaling his warmth.
“What a bummer for all those old dudes.” He pulled me even closer to his body.
With his hands on me again, I felt the familiar thrum of desire in my core. For sanity’s sake, I pushed him away and took a deep breath. “You’re not helping me to appear cool and indifferent.” I turned away from his smile and headed for the kitchen.
Now that I was on crutches and he wasn’t, Hartley handled our food. “Holding the tray used to be my job,” I pointed out. The role reversal stung. He was going back to normal, and I wasn’t.
He flinched. “Callahan, are you going to hate me when I go back to hockey in the fall?”
Hmm…In the fall. Hartley assumed we’d be together then, too. I loved that. “No,” I decided. “I’ll finally get to watch you play.”
His face broke open with happiness. “Really?” He leaned over to brush his lips against my cheek. “I’ve been worrying about it.”
“Just don’t expect me to squeal like a puck bunny when you take the ice. And I’m not wearing a tight-fitting jersey with your number on it.”
“C’mon. You have to,” he grinned, reaching for the plates on the service counter.
“Good luck with that.” My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, but it was only my brother calling. I could get back to him later. “I’m going to pour coffee,” I told Hartley, and crutched out into the dining room.
Out there, I scanned the tables, considering our options. Bridger was at one of the long, crowded tables, but Stacia was also there. So that was out. At our favorite table by the door, Dana and Daniel were deep in conversation.
“Where to?” Hartley asked, holding out the tray for the mugs.
“Well, they look awfully cozy,” I said, pointing to my roommate.
“Interesting,” he said. “But they like us, so let’s sit.”
When I made my way over to Dana, she looked up fast. Then an excited smile broke over her face.
“Not a word,” I warned. My face was instantly red.
“O-kayyy…” she said, grinning into her coffee cup.
I sat down beside Daniel. Hartley set our tray onto the table and then slid onto the bench beside Dana. “Morning!”
“A fine day, isn’t it?” Daniel asked with a wink.
“A very fine day,” Hartley began, until I fixed him with a death stare. “If unremarkable.”
Dana giggled.
“Miss Corey,” Daniel said. “If you don’t want gossip, you should not have let him give you that enormous love bite on your neck.”
“What?” I looked down, but of course it was impossible to see my own neck without a mirror.
“Made you look!” Daniel said, sending Dana into a fit of giggles.
“With friends like you…” I threatened. But I was starting to relax. Every time I glanced at Hartley’s handsome face across the table from me, I felt a little lighter.
“Now Corey,” Daniel reminded me. “Don’t let a night of passion distract you from your true cause. Ashforth House has promised not to forfeit today’s game, but now I’m worried that we’ll have to.”
“Why?”
“Bear and Allison have a symphonic performance.”
“Seriously? Bear is a classical musician?”
“He plays the tuba. And Allison is the first viola. I’ll be working the phones after brunch…” he looked at his watch, then at my roommate. “Help a guy out, Dana?”
Dana looked genuinely torn, which is how I knew that she was hot for Daniel. There was no other reason she would even hesitate before saying no. “I just can’t,” she said after a pause. “I’d duck every time the ball comes near.”
“That’s not against the rules,” I pointed out.
My phone chimed with a text from Damien. Where R U? Beaumt Dining Hall? Then my phone buzzed again, and I picked up the call. “Hi? Damien?”
“Please tell me you’re at brunch,” my brother said. “Because I’m climbing the stairs.”
“What — really? Why?”
“What do you mean, why? I came to see you. Are you up here?”
Startled, my eyes went straight to the door. A few seconds later, my brother stood there in the archway, peering out from underneath his Harkness baseball cap. I let the phone fall to the table as he met my eyes and then smiled. Then he was standing over me, leaning in for a hug. “Hey! I found you.” He grabbed a chair from the empty table next to ours and swung it around. That put him on the end, between Hartley and I.
Hell and damn.
“Um, Dana? I said. “This is my big brother, Damien.”
Damien didn’t seem to pick up on my discomfort. “So you’re Dana! Nice to finally meet you, girl.”
She beamed at him, shaking hands.
“And maybe you also know Daniel? And of course, Hartley.” I could feel my face reddening as I said his name.
“How’s it hanging, Hartley? I see you got your cast off. You must be feeling frisky again.”
Frisky? I was going to die of embarrassment in the next ten minutes if I couldn’t figure out how to extract myself from this situation. I snuck a look across at Hartley. He had the good sense not to look too amused.
Damien looked around the room. “Typical scene for a Sunday. I’m just going to grab a cup of coffee. Feels like I never left this place.” He rose again and loped towards the mugs.
“Oh, crap,” I whispered.
“Your face is the color of a tomato,” Dana whispered.
Hartley reached across the table and gave my hand a quick squeeze. “Be cool, beautiful. We’re just having brunch here. Did you know he was coming?”
“No!” I hissed. “He never mentioned visiting.”
My brother sat back down, sipping his coffee. “So, how are you holding up?” he asked me. br />
“Just fine,” I said quickly.
His blue eyes were studying me so carefully that it was unnerving. “Well that’s good,” he said slowly. “Mom and Dad asked me to check in with you.”
“That’s…nice,” I said, feeling as though I’d missed something. “You took the train up?”
“Sure,” he said, still eyeing me. Was there some way he could tell that I’d just done the one thing he’d ever told me not to? It wasn’t that I cared what he thought about Hartley and me. But my life was evolving at warp speed, and I could have used a day to get used to the idea. I didn’t need any push-back from Damien.
Stacia picked that moment to walk by, passing us between the conveyor where trays are deposited and the door. “Hey, Callahan,” she said suddenly. I turned my head as a reflex, about a millisecond before realizing that she was speaking to my brother.
My hockey-playing brother. Of course she was.
“Hey, Stacia. Looking good, as always,” he winked. “Do you know my sister Corey?”
As her gaze slid from Damien to me, the temperature of it dropped from steamy to subzero immediately. “Oh,” she said, frowning. “We’ve met.” And then she stomped out of the room.
“Well, she’s still the same,” Damien chuckled. Then he glanced at Hartley. “Oh, shit. Weren’t you two…?”
Now even Hartley looked rattled. “Yeah…uh…not anymore.”
“Sorry, dude.” My brother went back to his cup of coffee. My nerves fried, I was just about to declare brunch finished when Bridger trotted up, pausing behind my brother and me.
“What’s up, Bridge?” Hartley asked before draining his juice.
Bridger smirked down at him. “I was going to ask you the same thing. Please tell me that somebody had to do the Crutch of Shame this morning. Or do I have to restock the bourbon?”
“Bridger,” I gasped.
“Come on, Callahan,” he said as he passed behind me, giving my ponytail a flip. “I’ve been saving up that joke all weekend.” He rounded our table toward the door, aiming a lopsided grin at Hartley. And then he did a hard double-take as he recognized my brother. “Whoa, Callahan,” he said, pulling up short. “I didn’t see you there.”