Stealing Home(41)

Alex shifted, hanging the dress back up. “So are you saying to buy both of the shirts?”

I smiled. “Not exactly. What I’m trying to say is just accept what he can and wants to give you without worrying about how you’ll pay him back. Just like you’d want him to accept what you can and want to give him without worrying about how he’ll pay you back.” I felt my forehead crease as I replayed what I’d said to a seventeen-year-old I’d just met smack in the middle of a store that was blasting yet more reprehensible music. “Does that make sense? Because now that I’m rethinking it, I don’t know what I just said.”

Alex laughed, moving on to the next rack. “You’re saying that we all might express it uniquely, but it comes down to the same thing—love.”

“Exactly what I’m saying.”

“Glad we cleared that up.”

A teenage girl who’d been on a handful of dates in her life apparently knew more about the inner workings of love than I did—a grown woman who’d known her fair share of relationships. That was a depressing thought. A sobering reality. I remembered thinking I knew what love was, but somewhere along the way, I’d lost it. Its definition had been skewed by Ben and my subsequent failed relationships. Somewhere along life’s journey, I’d lost the essence of love. The simplicity of it had been lost, hidden by conditions, masked by doubt, veiled by qualifiers.

Here, in this toddler-clothing-sized store, with this young girl, I’d just remembered it. You either loved a person or you didn’t. They either loved you or they didn’t. Time didn’t play a role in it, and neither did circumstance.

It wasn’t a decision you came to logically; it was a feeling you knew instinctively.

The next realization that hit me had me reaching for a rack to keep myself from teetering in place. Thankfully, my stream of thoughts was interrupted.

“How is he?” Alex glanced out the front of the store where we could just make out Luke. Who was getting another round of jeers from fans in Shock caps. He responded with a peace sign.

“Good,” I answered, moving with her to the next rounder of shirts. “He’s having an amazing season. Setting some records already. Other than the muscle strain, he’s been great.”

“I watch every game. I know every stat. That’s not what I’m asking about. How is Luke, my brother? Not Luke Archer, the baseball player.”

“Oh.” When I held up a shirt with a baseball on it, she held out her hand to take it. “Why are you asking me?”

“Because you’re on the team with him. You two must spend a lot of time together.” Her eyes met mine and stayed there a moment. “And I maybe haven’t missed the way you two look at each other.” She glanced out into the mall where Luke was stationed, his gaze intent on us. “And the way you act around each other.”

Maybe I should have been panicking that Luke’s sister had just called us out, but then again, maybe I shouldn’t gave gotten involved with a player on the same team I worked for. My should-have radar was seriously misfiring lately. “You just met me. How do you know that’s not how I look at and act around everyone?”

“I don’t.” Alex lifted her shoulders. “But I do know the way my brother looks at and acts around people, and this isn’t how he acts around everyone else.”

I felt a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. “Really?”

“Really.”

“That obvious?”

“If it makes you feel better, I am especially observant.” She lifted her hand at her sisters when they popped out of their dressing rooms and waved her over. Then she faced me with an expectant expression.

“He’s good,” I answered. “This is my first season with the team, so we’re really just getting to know one another, but he seems good. Happy.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. That’s a relief. Luke’s been through a lot. Our parents. His career.” She paused, her eyes moving to her brother. “Other stuff.” I was just about to ask her what other stuff she was talking about when she added, “He spends all of his worry on us, but then who worries about him?”

“You do?” It wasn’t a guess—it was obvious.

“Don’t tell him.” She lifted her finger to her lips. “He likes to think the three of us have nothing more to worry about than what color we want to paint our toenails and turning our homework in on time.”

“Not a word,” I promised.

As she headed for the dressing rooms, she waited for me to come up beside her. “So you guys are seeing each other?”

I guessed my long inhale was all the answer she needed.

“Can I talk in hypothetical terms?” she asked.

“If I can answer hypothetically.”

“Fair’s fair.” She nudged my arm. “If you were seeing him, I’d tell you you’re dating the best guy in the whole world.”

“Yeah? Why would you say that?” Not that I was arguing, but I was curious to know why a teenage girl thought her big brother was the best guy in the world. Most girls her age thought some magazine-cover dude with tattoos and supposed swagger was the height of the male species.

“Because it’s the truth. Luke takes care of people. He’s loyal. He does the right thing.” She squinted like she was trying to focus on something. “Sometimes to a fault.”