The Crush (69)

The birthday girl—and the sister I’d always been closest to—settled into a chair next to mine and folded her hands on her stomach.

I closed my eyes and sighed. “Yeah. Sorry if I’m ruining the celebratory vibe.”

She snorted. “I hate being the center of attention, Emmett. You having the man-sads because Adaline left is the best thing to happen to me. Everyone in that house is so worried about the two of you that once the presents were opened, I’m off the hook. I almost invited all the kids just so there was a distraction.”

Despite the persistent ache in my chest, I found myself smiling. “Glad to be of service.”

Isabel and I sat quietly for a while, and she sat up to watch the shoreline as her husband, Aiden, spiked a volleyball over the net. My brothers-in-law Bauer and Noah both dove for it.

Aiden laughed when they immediately started arguing that he’d touched the net.

Isabel settled back in her chair, grinning when her husband looked over, and they shared some wordless communication.

“You all do that.”

She glanced over, eyebrow raised. “What?”

“The thing where you look at each other, and it’s like you can read their mind.”

Isabel hummed. “Yeah, I suppose we do.”

“I’ve had a front row seat to all your relationships,” I said. “Since like … ten years old.”

She nodded. “True. We all found our person. That’s pretty rare these days.”

There it was again. That throb behind my ribs, something I hoped would ease with time.

Adaline was my person. There was no doubt in my mind.

I was so glad I came up to the beach house early because I’d never regret any of the time I got with her. Every conversation, every kiss, every time I made her laugh or smile, every time I was able to slide my body in hers and settle deep into that sense of rightness—I knew what she was to me.

And still … I was stuck.

The frustration cranked the ache in my chest to something sharp and hot, and I let out a slow exhale to try to get rid of it.

“You can talk to me,” Isabel said steadily, “if you want.”

I closed my eyes and tried to think of what I even wanted to say.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” I managed.

She cut me a quick glance. “We’ve got time. No screaming kids who are going to interrupt every other minute. Why don’t you just start at the beginning?”

The rest of the family must’ve sensed that we needed privacy because no one approached us as Isabel sat and listened to the entire story.

The times I noticed Adaline after we first met.

Draft night.

When I sat in the hospital and inexplicably thought of her.

The ball.

Her parents.

The four months between.

Ned refusing to meet with me.

And now, my trip home.

Isabel puffed out her cheeks and exhaled. “Well … I guess my birthday has been good for one thing,” she said wryly. “You’re welcome.”

I exhaled a laugh.

“That must’ve been hard for both of you,” she said. “That last conversation.”

When I thought about Adaline’s obvious panic, the slow tightening of tension through her whole body as I held her, I could pinpoint the moment down to the second when she realized the impossible position she was in.

The one I was in too.

I wanted to leave and couldn’t—unless I was willing to walk away from my team.

She wanted to be with me and wouldn’t—unless she was willing to leave her family when they needed her.

Part of why I loved her was how she took care of the people she loved. Part of why she loved me was my dedication to the people I was responsible to.

If either of us made those choices, it went in direct contradiction to what made us who we were.

“I’m so frustrated with where we ended up,” I told Isabel, “even though I understand why. I know that I’m in love with her, and even if she didn’t say it back, she’s in love with me too.” I ran a hand through my hair. “I can’t do anything about it, and it makes me feel so fucking useless.”

Isabel smiled.

“What?” I snapped.

That made her smile grow. “Kid, you’ve had a pretty charmed existence.”

I slicked my tongue over my teeth.

“It’s not something that should be held against you. People with good parents can go through really shitty things, but you just … breezed through your life, Emmett. You got into the good school and made the good grades, all while dominating a really hard game to dominate. And when you took the next step”—she shook her head—“it was amazing to watch you. You took to all of it so easily. It didn’t change you into some showboating asshole who only cared about making money and sleeping with supermodels.”

“Mom was a supermodel. You better not let her hear you say that,” I said.

She laughed.

While her words sank in, I shifted in my seat. “I know you’re right, but it didn’t feel easy at the time. Making the grades and playing the game, leaving my family to move across the country.”

“I know you worked your ass off. That’s not what I mean.” She turned in her chair. “But this is the first time in your life that you’ve truly wanted something—but couldn’t have it.”