Winning the Right Brother. Abigail Strom
she really wanted was to hear him say he loved her. That everything would be all right. That they’d figure things out together.
“If you go through with this, Holly, you’re on your own. I won’t have anything to do with you or the baby.”
Holly could still remember the pain of that rejection. It had felt like the end of the world.
But it would never happen again. Because that was the last time she’d rely on someone else for any part of her happiness or welfare.
She hadn’t spoken to Brian for four years after that. They seldom spoke now, although he saw Will once in a while. And she rarely spoke to her parents, who ended up kicking her out of the house after she refused to “take care” of the situation. They’d relented a few years later, asking to know their grandson, but Holly herself wasn’t close with them anymore.
After Will was born, her friends had told her she should get a lawyer and sue Brian for child support. But she had refused. She had learned the one lesson that would become the cornerstone of her life: the only person you can trust is yourself. She wouldn’t ask Brian for a damn thing.
Somehow she’d survived, even though she hadn’t let anyone help her that first year or two—not her friends, not even her grandmother. Once she’d proven to herself she could stand on her own feet, she was able to accept her grandmother’s love again, and be grateful for the way she doted on Will. And by that time Gran was nearly eighty and needed her almost as much as Will did, so Holly didn’t feel as if she was in any danger of losing her hard-won self-reliance.
Except for Will, there was nothing more important to Holly than the independence she’d worked so hard to achieve. That’s why she could never let herself fantasize about some man rescuing her … including Alex McKenna.
Especially Alex McKenna. He was already too dangerous to her sense of stability.
As maddening as he was, he was also one of the few people who could get past her defenses. He caught her off guard. Made her feel things. Her heart rate picked up whenever he was around.
Holly rolled her shoulders and tried to let go of some of the tension keeping her awake. So what if Alex had come back into her life? So what if he hadn’t lost his uncanny ability to get under her skin, to make her question herself? She’d been doing just fine before he came back to town, and she’d continue to do fine, thank you very much.
She’d avoid him from now on, that was all. She’d go to Will’s games but she’d stay away from Alex, and with any luck, he’d stay away from her, too.
She remembered how hard it had been to change that tire with him standing behind her, his presence making her hands tremble as she struggled to loosen the lugs. Knowing his eyes were on her had made the hairs stand up on the back of her neck.
She shivered now, thinking of those blue eyes. Then she thought of his chest, his shoulders, his smile, and her muscles turned to water. Damn her body, anyway. What kind of primitive programming made her stomach tie itself in knots whenever she saw him?
It didn’t matter, she reminded herself firmly. Because from now on, she was going to stay away from Alex McKenna as if her life—or at least her sanity—depended on it.
Chapter Three
It would be a lot easier to forget about Alex if Will would stop talking about him day in, day out. How was she supposed to stop thinking about the man when he was her son’s favorite topic of conversation?
The worst part was that the stories Will told made it harder to hate him. Will was a good judge of character, and he was crazy about Alex. Coach has such a great work ethic. Coach has so much integrity. Coach is so tough and smart and funny and—
It was Sunday afternoon, and Holly and Will were eating pizza in front of the TV and watching—big surprise—a football game. During the commercial breaks Will treated her to more rave reviews of Alex the Great.
“Mom, are you listening? Isn’t that amazing? Don’t you think Coach is—”
“Amazing?”
“Well, isn’t he?”
Holly popped a mushroom into her mouth and licked tomato sauce off her fingers. “You bet. He’s a paragon.”
Will folded his arms and frowned at her. “Why do you always do that when I talk about Coach?”
“Do what?”
“The sarcasm. The eye rolling. Did you guys really hate each other that much when you were in high school?”
Holly sighed and leaned back against the sofa cushions. “Yes, we really did. Sorry. It’s just hard for me to see Alex the way you do. When I remember the way he used to be.”
Will looked interested. “So, what was he like back then? When you were teenagers.”
Holly pulled the purple-and-yellow crocheted throw off the back of the couch and tucked it around her knees. Her grandmother had made it, and it always gave her a feeling of security.
“He was … irritating. So are you going to watch this game or what?’Cause if not, I’m going to put on the financial news.”
“Geez, Mom. If you don’t want to talk about Coach just say so. You don’t have to threaten me with unholy torture.”
That Friday night, Will got to play for most of the second half. He completed seven passes, and Holly was pretty sure she’d never seen him so happy in his entire life.
Of course she also saw Alex, but she was getting used to that. Seeing him down there on the sidelines, fired up and intense, was becoming part of her Friday night routine—just like avoiding him was. But it was worth it to see Will so happy, so confident.
She wasn’t ready to admit it yet, but she was actually starting to enjoy going to the games. She understood them better, for one thing, thanks to constant tutoring from her son. Then there was the crisp autumn air, the excitement of the crowd … and the fact that the Weston Wildcats were kicking butt.
Of course there was still a little too much pummeling for her taste, especially when her only child was on the receiving end of it. But still, all in all, Holly was starting to enjoy Friday nights.
So when a friend started off a sentence one day with, “I know you hate football, but—” she was surprised to hear herself say, “Oh, football’s not so bad.”
Gina looked at her skeptically over her turkey club sandwich. “Since when is football not so bad?”
Holly shrugged as she poured vinaigrette over her salad. “My son’s on his high school team and he’s sort of getting me into it. What were you going to say?”
“Well.” Gina’s eyes sparkled as she leaned over the table. “You know my fiancé?”
Holly raised her eyebrows. “Pretty well, yes. Considering the fact that I’ve worked with Henry for six years and actually introduced the two of you.”
Gina grinned. “Okay, you get all the credit for my future marital bliss. And now I’m going to return the favor.”
Holly took a bite of salad. “Uh-huh. And you’ll be doing this how?”
“By fixing you up with your future husband, of course.”
Holly sighed. “Gina, I love you, but we’ve been through this before. Do you remember the last time you fixed me up with my future husband?”
Gina waved it away. “Mark looked good on paper, didn’t he? Nice guy, stable job, easy on the eyes. I thought he was perfect for you. And you liked him in the beginning.”
“Sure I did. And he liked me, too—until I cancelled a date one night when Will was sick. That’s when he told me that Will would always come first in my life and I’d probably never get married. He also mentioned something about dying