Lainey’s List Chapter 24

 

Nick

“So Lainey wants me to babysit Saturday night but won’t tell me who she’s going out with. Now you’re going out on Saturday night and being equally mysterious.” Charlie raises her eyebrows. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

I scratch the back of my neck. “No?”

“Nick, we tell each other everything.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Well, we should. Starting now, we should share all our thoughts with each other.”

“Okay, you start. How do you feel about Nate right now?”

She sticks out her tongue. “Hate him.”

“Liar,” I pat the top of her golden hair. “I would have told you but now I can’t because no true friendship is based on lies,” I say piously.

“Tell meeeeee,” she whines. “Are you and Lainey going on a date? Have you decided to stop fighting? Are you getting married?”

“Whoa, whoa, runaway train much? I’m not getting married.”

“You were just saying how you wanted to settle down, and now you’re accusing me of assuming too much?” Charlie scrunches up her face. “What is it with you penises and your inability to settle down?”

That’s her I hate Nate Jackson bleeding through.

“It’s not that I don’t want to settle down,” I explain. Grabbing my keys, wallet, and phone, I pause to give Charlie a kiss on her cheek. “It’s that I don’t want to settle down now.”

Or fall in love like Charlie and my brother Nate and end up hurting each other over and over again. Neither of them has been with another person since Nate left for the Navy but something keeps them apart. Nate, I suppose. Watching Charlie die a little every year they’re separated kills me too. I don’t want what they have.

It scares the shit out of me.

Someday I want to have a family, but Lainey’s not the right person. She makes me too crazy. Last season, after we hooked up for the first time, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I’d be on the road and want to text her, fly her out to see me.

But Lainey has an itch she needs scratching and no matter how much I know I should stay away, no one should scratch that itch but me.

She’s about the only person that gets my dick hard these days. There are women everywhere, but I find myself telling them—and the guys—that I’m too tired or that I want to work on the game. The too tired excuse worries the guys. If I don’t have enough energy to go to pound town, then how will I be able to play four quarters during the regular season? So I’m falling back on the “perfecting my game” excuse.

That flies a little better. I realize I’m lying to myself half the time, but it’s one of those fake it ‘til you make it things. At some point, my lies will be my reality. I just need to hold out until that happens.

Lainey has me meet her at The Crescent Club, which, according to the website, is a private dining club for people staying at the hotel. Either she got a room there or she’s a member of the Club. Given how much disdain Lainey has for that sort of thing, it’s got to be the former.

I try not to put too much stock in the fact we’re eating at a hotel restaurant that requires a hotel reservation but my dick gets excited anyway. He thinks he’s getting some tonight and no amount of telling him to settle down is working. I wear my shirt untucked but I have a blazer on so I shouldn’t have a problem with any dress code. That, and I’m the Mustangs’ starting quarterback. I could probably walk in wearing shorts and get seated.

The maitre d’ recognizes me immediately. “Mr. Jackson, what a pleasure it is to see you. Do you have a reservation?”

“I’m meeting a friend.”

“Ah yes,” His eyes widen. “She did say a Mr. Jackson would be joining her. We had no idea it would be you. Please, come this way,” He snaps the menu out of the gawking waitress’ hand and gestures for me to follow him.

Tucked in the corner, behind a potted plant, sits Lainey. She rises, the soft light of the restaurant highlighting all her lush curves. My dick jumps in excitement.

“Lainey, you look beautiful,” I murmur, as I hold out her chair, telling myself silently to calm the hell down.

“Thank you. You look…” She pauses and gives my untucked shirt a speaking glance. “…nice.”

“It was either untuck my shirt or scandalize the old ladies in the room,” I whisper into her ear before taking my own seat. I forego the one across from her that the maitre d’ stands behind and settle into the chair next to hers.

“I think you should give the old ladies more credit. I bet they’ve seen their fair share of cocks—” The maitre d’s scandalized gasp interrupts her. Lainey and I exchange a naughty smile “—and hens in their day,” she finishes.

“We can test that out later if you want to dance after dinner.”

“I was going to say no, but then I remembered you took dancing lessons.” She toys with her butter knife.

“Yes, for five years.” I hand the wine menu to the maitre d’. “We’ll have the house red.”

Lainey prefers reds to whites and I don’t care. Neither of us will be drinking much tonight. Lainey rarely drinks and even though I have no practice tomorrow, I keep my drinking during training camps and the season to a bare minimum. I’ve seen how easily it can derail careers.

“How’s your mother?” I ask.

“Not well.”

“What is it? Do you need help?”

She stares at the tablecloth. “Early onset dementia, I suppose. Brought about by years of unhealthy living.” She gives me a tight smile. “And, no, we’ve got it covered.”

“Insurance?” I don’t know how things are set with her, but she has to know that both Charlie and I would open our bank accounts to her.

“It’s covered,” she insists.

“All right.” She doesn’t want to talk about it but I’ll keep asking until I get the truth. “Why the Charter Club?”

“It seemed like a nice place. I’ve always wanted to come.”

“It’s not cheap.” With her mom’s sudden health decline, I wonder if she should be paying for this. Maybe I should give my credit card to the hostess before the end of the dinner.

“Can you get off that? I want to do this. I want to splurge.”

Now it’s my turn to shift uncomfortably. I should be taking her out, not the other way around.

“I wanted this,” she presses. “Just a night for the two of us, no bickering. And I’ve always wanted to come here.”

“You should have told me. I would’ve brought you.”

Lainey has a hard time asking for anything. She keeps a lot of space between us, emotionally and physically. It’s for the best, even though it rubs me the wrong way.

I know I can’t have it both ways. I can’t want her close when it suits me and push her away when I get scared. I know this, and yet…I heave a sigh. “Okay, but the next time it’s on me.”

“Of course. I’ll make you take me to The French Room, and we’ll order caviar by the buckets.”

“It’s a date. Just tell me when.”

She smiles again and this time it’s less strained but it’s not a full-on Lainey loves life smile. Shit. I’m getting a bad feeling about this. A splurge night? She’s letting down her hair? She’s willingly taking me to bed with no argument? God damn, she’s not sick is she? Cassidy’s not sick? I can’t handle another sick woman in my life. I can’t deal with that. Living through Charlie’s illnesses when we were teens almost did me in. My only refuge was a bunch of weird-ass video gamers who I barely knew.

“Something’s wrong, Lainey, and I’m not going to enjoy a bite of dinner until you tell me what it is,” I inform her.

She fiddles with the silverware until I’m ready to bust out of my seat and then finally admits, “I’m moving back home.”

I’m weak with relief. She’s not sick. “That’s all? Thought you were going to tell me you were dying or something. Your mom is only a couple hours away, right? You’ll come into town, and we’ll get together again. Have that dinner at The French Room.” I frown. “You still going to work with Charlie?”

“I haven’t talked to her about it. This move has been kind of a whirlwind thing for me.” The tightness is back in her face and for a moment I swear I see a flash of hurt in her eyes; though it’s so brief, I’m sure I imagined it.

All I can think is, thank God no one is sick.

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