Page 149 of Too Far

His hand once again finds the small of my back—why is that so sexy?—and he’s quiet while he watches the boy launch the ball into another decent throw.

Finally, he pulls in a long breath. “Thomas is not a patient man. Or a good teacher. And honestly? I’m not a great student. Coach likes to say I have to learn my lessons the hardest way possible.”

I snort.If that isn’t the understatement of the year…

“What?” he demands, his expression going from hard to sheepish when I give him a pointed look.

“You? Not being receptive to training and coaching? That just might be the most accurate assessment I’ve ever heard.”

Decker grumbles, running his hand through his hair over and over again. “You think that’s funny, huh?”

I answer with silence and a knowing smirk.

“You’ll love this, then,” he murmurs, scanning the horizon. “I was the second-string quarterback on our U-12 Little Dukes team until middle school.”

“Who was first?” I demand, because I have a sneaking suspicion I already know.

“Greedy,” he admits.

I bite my tongue hard.

“I had the better arm. The quicker reads. But I couldn’t nail the timing.”

“That’s what a lot of people don’t understand about football. There’s a rhythm to the game. A deep-seated trust between the players. It took being sacked a couple hundred times for me to trust my offensive line and step up into the pocket so plays could develop.

“Thomas hated that it took so long for things like that to click. He’d explain it a million different ways. Make me watch film for hours. Hired mindset coaches and throwing coaches and half a dozen other kinds of instructors and guides. He recognized my potential, but he wasn’t willing to meet me where I was or do the work to help me learn in a way that worked for me.”

“So you learn best by failing,” I tease, thinking I’ll get under his skin with the jab.

“Yeah.” His knuckles brush against my fingertips. “Sometimes I think that’s the only way I ever learn.”

It takes a moment for the confession to really sink in. For me to catch on to the admission that he even has shortcomings. He’s more self-aware than I thought. It irritates me in a way, but it’s also really telling.

His hand hovers near mine, hesitant, close enough that I can feel his body heat. This time when he touches me, it’s not just a brush. He circles my wrist while keeping his attention locked on my face, silently searching, as if to ask if the contact is okay.

When I don’t pull away, he interlocks our fingers, slow but sure.

We walk hand in hand for a few minutes, quiet and lost in thought. Eventually, he turns to me, cups my face, and leans in close enough to kiss me.

Hovering until we’re sharing breath, he confesses, “I’ll rarely get it right on the first try, Siren. But I promise I’ll keep trying until I do.”

His earnestness makes me squirm.

Because I believe him.

And yet, my sense of self-preservation can’t allow me to hope that he’ll follow through. I’ve been burned too many times by Decker’s words to take them at face value.

Sidestepping him, I squeeze his hand and hold on a bit tighter as we continue walking along the beach.

I appreciate that he’s willing to do the work. I just hope like hell it doesn’t always have to be this hard.

Chapter 66

Decker

Idrivetheumbrellainto the sand with more force than I mean to.

I’m pent up and agitated, horny and frustrated.