Page 91 of When I Had You

Do I tell her that the injuries are worse than they know? That the nerve damage alone can keep me from what I spent my whole life training for? No. She’s my mom. She doesn’t care about my career or a stupid legacy. She only cares about me.

I don’t.

I need to do better than my father. I need to leave something of value to take care of my son. I’ll give Cullen the only thing I can and what I never had from a father figure. Security.

“I’ll talk to her.”

“I’m not forcing you to do something you don’t want. If you’ve changed your mind about dating her—”

“Stop, Mom.” Dropping my head, I let it hang and close my eyes. When I look up, she’s not fazed. I’m a moody fucking bastard. She’s probably used to it. That still doesn’t make my behavior okay. I sit back on the lounger and turn my gaze to the sky. Choosing a more palatable tone to alleviate any signs of an argument that I don’t want to have right now, I say, “I’ll talk to her.”

She glances toward the glass door. “My tea is ready. Do you need anything?”

“No.”

After the door slides closed, I think about Marina and her constant effort. But I see it in her eyes, that question suspended in her pupils and the distance her light blues travel to delve into my green waters. If I let her stare too long, she’ll see through me and know something is wrong.

That’s the problem, right? Scrubbing my hands over my face, I release a heavy breath of stress, though it returns to my chest just as fast as it left.

Like her brother’s enjoyed reminding me, she’s an owner of the team. One word . . . one slip of concern from her to any of them, and my career could be over.

So is this the choice?

My son and the security I could give him for the rest of his life or my soulmate?

Fuck. I shake my head to get out of the tailspin. I don’t need to invent scenarios that aren’t in play. I don’t need to premeditate a response. I’m fine. We’ll all be fine. I’ll be back in my seat on the grid next Saturday.

“Do you want to be alone?” I look up to find Marina standing with her back pressed to the door as if she’s scared to be left alone with me. I’m a fucker for causing her distress. She says, “I know you have a lot on your mind.” She angles to leave without giving me a chance to convince her otherwise.

“Stay.” My heart’s reaction.

She turns back to ask, “Are you sure?”

Am I sure?

Fuck. I’ve done that to her. I’ve made her small in this big world like her ex did. My pain is one thing, but I hate myself for causing her any. “I want you to stay, babe. Come sit by me.”

Marina’s hair is knotted in an elastic on her head, her face free from makeup, and dark circles induced by restless nights, which I’m sure I’ve caused her. A familiar T-shirt that I’ve been missing is draped over her small shoulders with her jeans.

She’s fucking gorgeous.

I don’t deserve her beauty or her heart. I’ll steal her soul, though, because there’s no existing for me without it anymore.

Coming to sit on the inside of the other lounge chair, she keeps her feet on the ground. “What can I get you? Are you hungry or need water?”

“I don’t need you to dote on me. I have my mother already doing too much.”

Her sympathetic smile isn’t reassuring. “We’re just trying to help.”

“I don’t need help. I don’t need anyone to take care of me. I can do it myself. I’ve done it my entire fucking life.”

Getting up again, she moves to the table and stands on the other side. “Why are you yelling at me, Cash?”

“I’m not yelling.”

She touches her fingertips to her chest, slightly leaning forward. “Okay, why are you raising your voice at me?”

“I’m tired, Marina. I’m tired of sitting here ‘healing,’” I say, tossing air quotes in there for some stupid reason. “I’m tired of doctor’s orders to rest and get some sleep. I’m tired of being treated like a—”

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