Defender (Seattle Sharks 9)

“I love my siblings,” she said. “I’m probably closest to my older brother, but Ash is so busy lately. And my sister has a daughter, so you know where her priorities are, and rightfully so. But I can imagine it has to be nice to have that person who knows you better than anyone else, huh?”

Did she know how she sounded? Utterly capable yet...lonely? Was I reading too much into what she was telling me?

“Nixon knows me down to the very marrow of my bones,” I admitted. “But in some ways, you know me better than he does.” I nudged her shoulder with mine.

“Ha! Nice try.” She rolled her eyes.

“What do I sleep in?” I asked.

“If I’m around, gym shorts and nothing else,” she answered. “Not sure when I’m...not in the same room.”

I grinned. “I’ll leave it up to your imagination.”

She flushed, a cute tinge of pink coloring her cheeks.

“What am I like on game day?” I challenged.

“Focused. Driven. There’s zero play in you, or teasing, even. You’re kind of like a gargoyle who looks all scary but doesn't say much.” She tilted her head. “You drink a smoothie for breakfast, head to morning ice, then carb up at lunch, where you resemble a human for about forty-five minutes. So if I want to talk to you about anything, that’s my chance. After that, you’re all business until show time.”

“See, you know me. Nixon doesn’t know any of that stuff, not anymore. The current stuff he’s pretty lost on. But he could probably tell you why I did those things if he thought long enough about any of it.”

“Does he know that you listen to rap right before you walk into the locker room? Or that you only sleep with one pillow? Or that you double-knot your shoelaces before you go running?” Her eyebrows rose. “Does he know that you refuse to use pods when you pack your carry on even though you know they’re more efficient? Or that you squeeze the toothpaste from the middle of the tube? Or that you only sing in the shower on the days you win?” The pink in her cheeks was now joined by a flush of color up her neck.

“Probably not,” I answered softly. “So in some ways, now you’re the person who knows me best.”

She quietly flipped my helmet over and connected it to her computer. A quick glance told me she had the program open that she used to record whatever data she was pulling from the sensors.

“I know you, too,” I offered her.

She tensed.

“I know that you only like that pear shampoo. You wash your face every night even though you don’t wear makeup often. You love tomatoes but hate ketchup. You lose all track of the world around you when you stumble onto an idea.” I smiled at the memory of pulling her out of traffic in Sweden. “You love beautiful things, but you don’t always consider yourself one of them.”

Her gaze snapped to mine.

“You are though. Beautiful. I don’t mind telling you that because you don’t let that shit go to your head. You’d rather I tell you how incredible this plan of yours is. How many lives you’ll be able to change once you pull it off.”

“If,” she whispered.

“No. When. You don’t know how to give up, do you? You remove whatever obstacle is in your path and keep trucking on.” We were so similar in that way, and the relentlessness in me called to that in her.

“Sit,” she ordered softly, pointing to the stool on the other side of her.

I did as the lady asked, bringing her to my eye level. She put my helmet over my head and tugged it down to fit snugly against my scalp.

“Words like I can’t don’t exist in my family. I can’t means you gave up. Thompsons don’t give up. You’ve been gifted with superior intellect, Harper,” she raised her chin in what had to be an impression of her dad. “What you do with it will be your own gift...or curse.”

I pulled the chin strap across and snapped it. “You know, I said something like that to Sawyer last month. That he was blessed with talent, but it was the drive that would set him apart or let him fall.”

“But you said it to encourage him, right?” she asked, jostling the helmet gently and then turning to look at the program.

“Well, yeah. I don’t want him to give up. He’s got what it takes, and he deserves to have the life he’s worked so hard for, to play the game at the highest level he can.”

“My dad said it as a warning.” She typed something into the computer and then moved my helmet again, just minor bumps. “And he said it out of love, too, I know that.”

“Same words.”