The Guy in the Middle (The Underdogs 3)

“I believe what I can see,” he yells angrily. “That’s the truth.”

“Then fucking look at me!” I scream at him. His eyes roam me, my breaths coming fast before he darts them away. “Believe me, Lance. I know I hurt you, and you’re punishing me for it. And you’re hiding behind my dancing as an excuse to get rid of me, but that’s all it’s ever been, an excuse. I’m here because I want to be. I want you. I want us back. You can trust me, Lance. Let me back in.”

His answering silence is deafening.

All fight leaves me as I walk over to him and again lift on my toes covering several inches, so we’re eye level. I’m on pointe now as I glower at him. “It’s a thin line, Lance. And so, I’ll believe for both of us.”

Defeated, but only for the moment, I leave the ring, this round goes to him.

Dinner and a hot shower do wonders for me. Though I’m still reeling from the news about my parents, deep down, I always knew the day Dad got arrested was the day it was over for them. I expected it, but it didn’t make it any less hard to hear. Now maybe they can move on, both of them. And perhaps it’s for the best. Running a comb through my hair, I crack the bathroom door to let the steam out and hear Trevor down the hall on his headphones, talking shit on his video game.

“Yeah, me and the wife are going to do the usual tonight. It’s Friday, so that’s tacos and fetish porn.”

I burst out laughing when he pipes up again. “You ever tried mayo? It’s an edible lubricant.”

“Shut the hell up, punk,” Tony grumbles from his bedroom, and I can tell there’s amusement in his voice.

“I’ll get to you soon, honey,” Trevor quips. “Grab the new jar of mayo, it’s in the cabinet.”

Giggling, I smooth the goat’s milk lotion Jeannie gave me—made by a local farm—over my arms. It smells of Lavender, like Nana, and somewhere between the lewd jokes Trevor’s making, the atmosphere of family, and the comforting smell permeating the bathroom, I feel the same level of ease as I do in Nana’s brownstone. It’s the ease in which Lance now dismisses me that has tears threatening, but I bat them away. I came to fight for my place in his life, and he’s not making it easy. But I refuse to let his determination overtake my own.

I know he loves me. Just as much as he did seven weeks ago, two years before that and the years during, but lately, he’s making it incredibly hard to believe. The longer I stay, the angrier he seems to get. But I have to hang in there, especially when times are hard. My parents may no longer be a shining example of longevity, but his are. And they’ve overcome improbable odds. I’ll never stop dancing, and I will resume my breakneck pace once I’ve earned my place with Lance. There’s a future for us. We loved each other across space and time before, we can do it again. I just have to get him back in that mindset. Mustering up my strength, I open the door and catch Lance on the other side.

“Can I have a word?”

“Sure.”

He nods over his shoulder. “My room.”

Cloudy eyes roam my body. I’ve got on a long tee and tiny sleep shorts. My hair is wet, and I’ve just applied lip balm. Heat stirs below as I watch him clench his fists. He wants to touch. I’m his to touch, but I won’t give him home field advantage or the leverage to kick me out of his room. He’s not here to mend fences, it’s evident in his demeanor.

“Not finished yet, come in.” Reluctantly, Lance steps in and closes the door behind him.

I draw a dollop of lotion from the jar and hike my leg up on the side of the sink before rubbing it in.

“So, what’s up?”

“You paid for Dad’s meds and told him we had a deal.”

Shit.

Double shit.

“He needed them, and I had the money. It’s simple math. Don’t ask me to apologize for it.”

“You had no right.”

“I’m a part of this family.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“Fine, I want to be a part of this family. And I didn’t do it for you, or because I think I have some say in anything, or because I think you’ll love me more for it. And I can’t believe you would want to deny him that comfort for foolish pride. You’re being an idiot.”

“And when we don’t have the money next month?”

“Jesus,” I say, turning to face him. “That’s next month.”

“You’ll be gone then, and he’ll be just as helpless. You can’t put a Band-Aid on this, Harper.”