But I’m not ready for him to see everything. There are parts of me I can’t even look at yet.
I gesture to the burger on his plate. “You should eat that before it gets cold.”
He glances down at it, then at me. “This is sort of an intense moment. Wouldn’t that come across as rude, crude, and socially unacceptable?”
Just when I was sure things would be forever awkward between us, he says that and makes me smile. “What’s wrong with rude, crude, and socially unacceptable?”
His eyebrows raise. “Good point.” He picks up the massive burger in both hands. “I’m convinced there are no better burgers anywhere on the planet,” he says, then rips a huge hunk out of it with his teeth. His eyes flutter closed and he moans a little as he chews. Finally, he swallows, his eyes worshipping the burger in his hands. “So good it should be its own food group.”
I take a bite and he’s sort of right. It’s really good. We eat and make small talk, mostly about the team and when I might be back. My burger is nowhere near finished, but I’ve stomached all I can. Between Dad’s public spectacle and sitting across a table from Marcus for the better part of an hour, my insides have rolled themselves up like a pill-bug.
“You gonna eat that?” he asks, eyeing what’s left of my burger.
I pick a French fry off the plate and slide it toward him. “All yours.”
He grabs the burger and takes a bite, and something about that sends a thrill skittering through my insides.
The waitress takes the empty plates stacked in front of Marcus and hands him the bill.
I dig in my pocket for the few dollars I have and slip them onto the table.
“Don’t even think about it,” Marcus says, pushing them my direction.
“Just take it so I can feel a little less humiliated,” I say.
He presses the bills into my palm and his hand lingers there. “They give me a discount. It’s really no big deal.”
At his touch, blood rushes through my ears so loudly I’m sure everyone in the room can hear the pound of it over the music.
Finally he lets me go and we head to the bar.
“You’re going to be okay?” he asks low, for my ears only.
“It’s nothing new. Dad’s been this way for a while.”
He shakes his head and his gaze latches onto mine. “I’m not talking about your dad. I’m talking about you. Are you going to be okay?”
No one’s ever asked me that in quite that way, with quite that intensity. I have the sudden urge to answer him honestly—nothing’s ever going to be okay again. But instead, I nod.
We step up to the bar and Vicky gives us a nod as she finishes topping off the beer she’s pouring, then sets it on the bar in front of her customer.
Marcus hands her the check with a twenty and she hands him back enough change that I realize he wasn’t kidding about the discount, making me feel a little less guilty.
“Keep an eye on this one,” Vicky says with a nod at me. “You know what she’s dealing with.”
Marcus gives me a “see” look and a small smile as we head for the door. Just as we step though the door onto the sidewalk, I realize I don’t have a car. But before I can even say anything, he grasps my elbow gently and guides me to his truck, just up the road.
“I know what it’s like to deal with a drunk dad, Addie,” he says. “I can’t make Bruce change, but I want to be your go to if you ever need to talk or there’s anything I can do to help you deal, okay?”
“Okay,” I say. I don’t dare say more because his hand on my arm is doing things to totally unrelated parts of my body and I’m afraid he’ll hear the shake in my voice.
We get to his truck and he loads me into the passenger seat. He comes around the driver’s side and gives me a look when he climbs in. “Home?”
I shudder with the thought that he might have something else in mind. But I really should check that Dad and Becky are okay. “Yeah. Thanks.”
He starts the truck and pulls away from the curb, but then stops at the stop sign in the middle of town and looks at me. “Think about what I said at school today. I really, really don’t want you to quit the team, Addie. I need you in the pool.”
There’s a second I get lost in his darkening eyes. They seem to reach right inside me, but instead of feeling nosy or prying, they manage to still the storm inside me. “I’ll think about it.”
He navigates us the short distance to my house and stops out front.
“Look…I really am sorry about what happened,” he says, tapping his finger on his head where my bandages are. “I feel responsible for pushing you too hard in the pool.”