Chance of a Lifetime (Anderson Brothers) (10 page)

Chapter Fifteen

G
en’s sides hurt from laughing. All through dinner, Will and Chance entertained them with stories about their antics growing up. Now they’d moved on to tales of adult shenanigans.

“And then…” Will said, pausing to catch his breath. “Then we go to Michael’s apartment, prepared to do an intervention.”

“…because Will was convinced he was some kind of sex addict,” Chance added.

“The tabloids said that, I didn’t.”

“Anyway—”

“Anyway, we go in there, and Mighty Mikey’s in his underwear—” Will broke out laughing again, slapping his hands on the table.

Chance took up his sentence, laughing between words. “…holding this froufrou dog in his lap—”

“…crying his eyes out over Mia, because she’d figured out he was a controlling jackass and told him to take a hike.” Will snickered. “It was pathetic.”

“Not as pathetic as the butt-ugly matching homemade sweaters he and the dog had on when he proposed!”

“Those
were
pretty terrible,” Claire agreed with a chuckle.

“I love it when Michael looks foolish,” Chance said. “I wish he did it more often.”

“It took guts to do what he did to win her back.” Claire’s voice was quieter than usual. “Sometimes that’s what it takes. Putting it all out there and hoping love wins. Am I right?”

There was an awkward silence at the table, and Gen held her breath to pick up any indication of what was really going on. Will drummed his fingers, Claire’s glass clinked on the table as she set it down, and Chance’s foot tapped on the floor in a nervous staccato.

The tapping stopped, and Chance stood. “Well, I’d really like to do a few exercises on the beach now that the sun is down. I haven’t worked out in a couple of days. Do you mind, Gen?”

“No, of course not. Go ahead.”

Claire’s chair scraped and dishes clattered as Chance’s footsteps faded. “I’ve got the kitchen, Will. Why don’t the two of you go out and enjoy the evening on the porch?”

There was another awkward silence in which she was certain Claire gave her fiancé a “we talked about this” look.

Will cleared his throat and tapped Gen’s hand, then wrapped it over his elbow. “Claire tells me you want to talk.”

She stood and allowed him to lead her out on the porch. She didn’t smell Chance anywhere and heard nothing aside from the wind and waves.

“He just dropped your bags off at the small cottage, and now he’s down near the water doing a warm-up. Mainly positions and punches. He’ll move to kicks next.” He placed her hand on the back of the chair she’d sat in earlier when Chance had applied sunscreen and his special touch. After feeling for the seat, she lowered herself in the chair, blocking heated thoughts of the two of them from her mind. She needed info before she allowed her thoughts to stray in that direction.

Metal scraped wood as Will moved a piece of furniture and sat next to her with a movement of air and a creak of wicker. “I’ve never seen anyone with balance as good as Chance’s. Or speed. He’s fucking fast. He can strike and be back in position before you even see it.”

She leaned back in the chair and folded her feet under her, letting Will lead the conversation.

His voice was slightly deeper than Chance’s, but had the same hint of saxophone. “When he was little, Chance would walk on the railing of our yacht like it was a circus tightrope. It scared the living shit out of my mom. And he drew. She loved that. Always said he’d be an artist. And I guess he is. Watching him fight is like watching ballet—only with more contact and sometimes blood.”

She tensed, spine going rigid at the thought of Chance being hurt.

Will patted her arm. “He stopped competing a while back, so relax. He spars for fun now.”

Consciously loosening her muscles, she turned her face toward Will and gave what she hoped was a believable smile, hoping he’d go on without prompting.

“Chance was forever getting into trouble, even as a little kid, because he’d get caught up in a bad situation and not fight to get out of it. Other kids weaseled out of trouble by cooking up all kinds of reasons for what they did, but not Chance. He’d stand up, take the punishment, and never make excuses.”

A sharp yell came from the beach. Guttural and primal and male. Followed by another and another.

“He’s doing punches. Next, kicks.”

Fascinated, she turned an ear toward the sound and spoke aloud the words she’d repeated silently her entire life. “I wish I could see him.”

What would she not give, truly, to look on him with seeing eyes and take him in as the rest of the world was lucky enough to do? Her nails bit into her palms and suppressed tears stung her eyelids. She’d give anything.
Everything.

With a deep breath, she loosened her fists, blinked hard, and squared her shoulders.
Screw this pity party.

She’d seen Chance in a way no one else ever would. She’d seen him smile through her fingertips, his dimples sinking into his warm skin beneath her touch.

Will’s chair creaked. “He’s beautiful to watch. Amazing. In ten years, he’s reached the top of the art. Even with my hand-to-hand combat training and my greater pounds and inches, I wouldn’t stand a chance against him if I weren’t his brother.”

“If you weren’t his brother…?”

“I could do anything to him and he would never lift a finger to me, though he could easily kill a man. That’s how he rolls. There’s no one in the world more loyal than Chance.”

She traced the braided pattern of the wicker on the side of her chair with her forefinger. She’d never thought of Chance in this light. Loving brother, skilled fighter…

Out in the distance, the sharp shouts continued. “Is he angry?”

“No, focused. The yell focuses the energy.”

“Do you watch him a lot?”

“I used to.” There was a rustling as Will shifted position. “Often, he works out blindfolded. Like now.”

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. “He’s blindfolded right now?”

“Yeah. I’ve even seen him fight blindfolded.”

Why would anyone fight blind? Choose to be limited when they didn’t have to be?

“At first, I thought he was doing it as penance for what happened to you at the harbor. I really did. But it’s not.”

More shouts from the beach.

“What is it?”

“It’s his link to you, Gen. He wants a connection, and that’s how he feels you.”

No.
He had to be wrong. She twisted her hands in the skirt of her sundress. “I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I, but that’s the reason. I’m certain of it—even if he doesn’t know it himself.”

For a while, they sat in silence, listening to the fierce shouts from the beach. He was blindfolded. Deprived of the sight of the beautiful world right in front of him, just like her.
For
her.

A lump formed in her throat, but she fought against it to voice the question she’d asked thousands of times since that night all those years ago. “Why didn’t he come to the hospital that night? Why did he go away for so long?”

Wicker creaked as Will shifted in his chair again. “The reason he couldn’t come to the hospital is not my story to tell. It’s his. As for going away, he didn’t.”

“Ten years.”

Will’s large, comforting hand wrapped over hers on the arm of the chair. “He was always there. He attended a university in the city to stay close. He had me check on you several times. He even attended your high school graduation.”

She pulled her hand away. “No.”

“He never broke his promise to Walter. He never approached you again, but he didn’t leave. He was there, training blindfolded, trying to connect. Keeping you in his life..”

Chance’s desolate voice from ten years ago tumbled through her brain.
I’m sorry, Genny.

She covered her mouth with her hands.

“I’ll tell you this, though,” Will continued. “He went through a really rough patch. I don’t know what he’s told you…”

Her voice was barely above a whisper as she struggled to make sense of this new reality. She’d thought he’d left her behind, when he’d been there the whole time. “Nothing.”

“After the business at the harbor, he spun off into all kinds of craziness. If he wasn’t partying, he was attempting insane climbs or jumps—almost like he was looking to get hurt. We were really worried about him. And then one Christmas, he stopped.” He snapped his finger. “Just like that. Nobody knows why. He stopped partying, toned down the dangerous sports, finished his undergrad, and went to law school. He still goes for the adrenaline, but not in a way he’ll get himself killed. He comes to work every day. Works out every night. And for the past two months, he’s gone to a bar in Midtown on Tuesday night to catch a glimpse of you.”

He’d been there every Tuesday for two months while she’d secretly cursed him and longed for him simultaneously. He had been within reach and she hadn’t even known it. “Did he tell you that?”

There was a pause, and a scrubbing sound, like someone rubbing short hair or maybe an unshaven face. Clearly, the man was uncomfortable with her question. “No, my investigator told me about the bar visits. Chance would be royally pissed I’d had him followed, so don’t tell him, okay? And you know what else?”

She shook her head.

“Every day for these past two months, he’s smiled more and been happier than he has in ten years.”

Her thoughts spun as she tried to put the puzzle pieces in place. He’d never left. None of it fit with what she’d believed all these years.

He slapped his palms on the arms of his chair. “Well, I’d better go in and help Claire with those dishes. Chance is cooling down now.”

“Thanks. You really cleared some things up. He’s lucky to have you as a brother.”

“I’m lucky to have him as well.” His chair scraped the floor as he stood. “He was hugely instrumental in my relationship with Claire working out. He’s a good man, Gen. I want him to be happy again. I want him to make this right, you know?” Metal rasped wood as he moved the chair.

“How far is he from here?”

“If you walk straight out, you’ll hit the beach. When you get to the waterline, turn left and follow it.”

She stood, grinning. “You’re pretty cool, Will. Most people would insist on leading me to him.”

“Nobody needs to lead you two to each other. You’d find each other from opposite sides of the planet.”

Chapter Sixteen

C
hance heard her footsteps long before she arrived. He knew it was Gen because she walked toe-heel instead of heel-toe when she didn’t have her cane, testing the ground as she walked.

The workout had cleared his head and put him more in tune with his surroundings, and himself for that matter. He timed his breathing with her footfalls.
Breathe in, step, step. Breathe out, step, step.

Without a greeting, she dropped to the soft sand beside him, not touching, but linked by the invisible current she always emitted.

Still staring at the placid water, he broke the silence. “Did my brother fill you in on the bad years?”

She straightened the hem of her loaner sundress over her calves. “No. But he told me there were some.”

“Yeah, there were.”

With her finger, she traced a small circle in the sand near her knee. “Want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly.” He unfolded his legs and stretched them out in front of him toward the moon’s reflection on the water. “Do you want me to?”

“Yes,” she said without hesitation.

He inhaled the fresh sea air and closed his eyes. He had known this day would come eventually, but it still put him off-balance. Time to come clean. “I fell into a trap,” he said after a moment. “It’s a common one. People already thought something bad about me, so I made it happen.”

“After the harbor.”

“Because of it.”

Her finger stilled mid-circle, and he looked over at her face for the first time since she joined him. Her expression was unreadable, and her skin looked translucent in the reflected moonlight. Like a dream.

Ask me
, he willed her. He’d never wanted to excuse his mistakes, but he needed her to understand them. To know he hadn’t willfully abandoned her that night as she believed. Not that he needed absolution.
She
did. She needed to know she mattered.

A single tear shimmered down her cheek. It was question enough.

“I didn’t want to leave you on the dock. I should never have done it. It’s unforgivable and I have no excuses whatsoever. Nothing that happened that night justifies that mistake.”

Her only response was a slight lift of her chin.

“After we got to the end of the dock that New Year’s, Phoebe called. She was crying and out of control because she couldn’t reach Walter. She’d been detained by some security guards because she’d bought some weed off a guy near the cotton candy stand. She asked me to come, so I did. I don’t know what she thought I could do for her, but I figured they’d let her go. I’d calm her down and help her find Walter, and it would be no big deal. Well, it turned out it
was
a big deal because they weren’t security guards, they were real cops, and when I showed up, they detained me, too. Nothing would have come of it. I was totally clean. I hadn’t even been drinking. But I did have a cigarette and long hair, and Phoebe acted all weird when I showed up.”

Gen shifted and tucked her legs under her skirt, but still faced the water.

He folded his arms to keep from touching her, needing her warmth to soothe him. “I told the officer that I had something I had to do. That it was important, and then I’d come right back. He thought that was hilarious and told me to sit my ass down and shut up.”

He closed his eyes and saw the whole thing as if it were happening in real time. “The fireworks started, and I got worried, so I told the guy again that I had to go. ‘Tough shit’ was his answer. I explained that I’d left a blind girl on the end of the dock and I was worried about her, and he laughed. To that point, I’d totally kept my cool, really, Gen, I had.”

She placed her hand on his thigh, palm up. He slipped his hand in hers, and she squeezed. Warmth radiated up his arm to his chest.

“He said I was lying and told me to shut up. At that point, I lost my cool. I stood. I told him again, I had to go to you…actually, I shouted it, and I guess he thought I might be serious. He and another police officer decided to escort me to the dock, but said if there wasn’t a girl, I was going to jail—that stoners like me would tell any lie to get out of trouble.”

As if it were happening all over again, his chest tightened and his heart stuttered painfully. She placed her other hand over their clasped ones as if she knew how much he craved her touch right then.

“Before we even got close, a huge firework went off and lit everything up. You weren’t there. The end of the dock was empty.” He sucked in a shuddering breath and held it. “And then you screamed my name.”

Her hold on his hand tightened.

“I broke away from the cops and sprinted down the dock. The bigger one caught me and I totally lost my shit. I don’t remember much from there, other than punching the cop and him throwing me down, then waking up in a jail cell and calling Michael to bail me out.”

She placed her hands on his face to read him, and he made no effort to hide his feelings. Regret, remorse, pain. Her gentle fingers were like a balm.

“I came to you as soon as I got out. By the time I arrived at the hospital, Walter and your parents already knew I’d been in jail for assaulting a police officer, thanks to Phoebe. The cops had let her go with no charges at all.” He shook his head. “Everyone thought I’d been busted for buying dope—that you’d almost drowned because I’d left you in order to go score some drugs. I’d never been high in my life at that point. Drunk, yes, but I’d avoided everything else.”

“Why didn’t you tell them the truth? Why didn’t you tell
me
the truth?” she asked, tracing his lips with her thumbs.

“What difference would it have made? It changed nothing. I left you on the dock. Alone. That one thoughtless act trumps everything else. I had no excuse for what I did, so I gave none.”

She ran her hands over his face, but it felt more like a caress than her attempt to read his expression, and to his surprise, a slight smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

She linked her fingers behind his neck. “While we’re confessing…” He ran his hands over her forearms, loving the way she leaned closer when he touched her. “I might have lured you to the dock for nefarious purposes.”

“Tell me.”

She arched an eyebrow and unclasped her fingers, running them through the hair at the nape of his neck. “I wanted you alone at midnight, hoping you’d kiss me.”

“I was pretty sure that was your MO.”

“Would you have?”

“No.”

Her fingers stilled. “No?”

“I was your guardian then. Your protector.”

She pulled her hands back, brow furrowed. “A protector like Walter.”

“No. Never. I wanted you to experience as many things as possible. I fought all the time for you to be able to do stuff with us. I promised Walter I’d keep you safe, which is why almost killing you was such a blow.”

She brushed the hair from his forehead. “You didn’t almost kill me. I fell off the dock on my own. I told you I’d stay put, but I didn’t.”

“It doesn’t undo my mistake, Gen.”

“No, it doesn’t, but it mitigates it. I consider us even.”

He took a breath to refute her, but she stopped him with a finger over his lips.

“So, you really wouldn’t have kissed me?”

“I loved you so much it hurt, but no. As attractive as you were, you were fifteen, and you were my best friend’s little sister. There are lines that don’t get crossed.”

She drew her fingers through sand between them. “You crossed it recently.”

“Yes, I did. Things changed.”

“What things?”

Imagining her fingers tracing across his body, rather than in the sand, his heart kicked into high gear. “You. Me.”

He took her hand and pulled it into his lap, caging it between his palms, as he worked to regain focus. He needed to finish and clear the air between them. “After the New Year’s incident, things were different. The court agreed to dismiss my case if I got counseling. The shrink thought martial arts would be a good outlet for me, and she was right. While that was good, everything else was bad. Walter pushed me away, and thanks to the high school rumor mill, my classmates and their gossiping parents thought I had been busted in a drug raid and attacked a cop. Even my own parents partially bought into it.”

“That’s ridiculous.” She made to pull her hands free, but he held them firm.

“Not by the time I was done. They already thought I was a partying loser, why fight it? I became one. I tried everything. Did everything. Blew off school, got high. And pursued women. Hell, I put Michael to shame. My bad-boy reputation opened lots of doors and bedroom windows, but it shut the ones that really mattered.”

“Your brothers’.”

“And yours.”

S
eated on the soft sand, Gen couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, as Chance held her hands and heart captive.

“I never stopped thinking of you during that time. I convinced myself that you were better off without me. I bought into the notion that I was a loser and an addict. I was halfway right.” He loosened his grip on her hands, but she left them between his warm palms.

“You’re not a loser.”

“No, but I’m an addict.”

She lifted her hands to his face, finding his features relaxed.

He turned toward her, as if wanting more contact, so she obliged, placing her palms on either side of his face and not just her fingertips. “From the time I was little,” he continued, “I’d binge—on adrenaline, usually, but sometimes on foods or activities. And when I went off the deep end that last semester of my senior year, I stepped off the ledge to the point of being self-destructive.”

“But you aren’t like that anymore. You don’t drink. You have a killer job.”

Under her thumbs, the corners of his mouth lifted into a gentle smile. “I still love the rush of adrenaline, though. But you’re right, seven years ago I cleaned up my act. And for that, I thank you and your crazy-hot Christmas party dress your senior year of high school.”

He turned his head toward the ocean and she dropped her hands, confused.
What dress?

“Once I’d stepped away from you, I gained a better perspective of exactly who you were to me. Instead of just being my closest friend, you became my inspiration. I wanted to be like you. Be with you. Be worthy of your friendship again. Worthy enough for you to forgive me.”

Again, her insides churned at the realization they’d hurt similarly.

“Suddenly, being the party guy held no appeal. After some painful false starts, I got clean, finished college, and applied to law school. The rest is history.”

The sea breeze was blocked momentarily, and she sensed him stand. His soft footfalls confirmed he had moved a few steps.

She stood as well, facing the direction of the sound of hands slapping over fabric, as she imagined him brushing sand off of himself. “I don’t remember a Christmas party dress my senior year.”

He rested his hand on her waist. “It was red, knee-length, with a silver sequined border on the top and sequined straps. I’d never seen anything like you in that dress before.”

She threw her head back and laughed. “Oh my God, Chance. That was my school choir uniform for the holiday concert. I hated that thing.”

“It was hot.”

“It made my boobs look huge. Everyone said so.”

“I stand by my previous statement.
Hot.”

She gave his shoulder a playful punch. “You goofball! You turned your life around because of a choir uniform!”

“I turned my life around because of
you.”