Not Broken Anymore Read online

  I made sure my eyes were firmly on her face when I grinned and replied to the last thing she’d said. “I’m just a football player. Never claimed to be that smart.” Holding her hand a little tighter, I gave a slight tug. “Come on. There’s a cool Italian place a few blocks from here. It’s nothing fancy, but the food is amazing. Let’s get something to eat. I’m starving.”

  To my relief—and delight—Gia let me pull her along with me. It took a few more minutes before she found her voice again.

  “I thought you had plans. You said you were going to your friend’s house to play video games, right? Isn’t that why you were in the grocery store?”

  I hesitated. “Yes . . . and no.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Care to be more specific?”

  “Yes, I was going to Skeeter’s house to hang out tonight. That was the plan. That’s why I was on this street. And yeah, I was supposed to bring something to eat. But I wasn’t really in the store to buy food. I was in there because I saw you go in, and I wanted to say hello.”

  Her small forehead wrinkled, and my fingers itched to smooth it out. I refrained; I didn’t need a Spidey tingle to tell me that Gia wasn’t down for spontaneous touches . . . yet.

  “So you lied to me? You were . . . what, following me?” Her tone was a mix of distaste and disbelief.

  “I didn’t mean to lie to you. When you get to know me, you’ll find out that I am honest to a fault. I don’t do lies, fibs, fabrications . . . and I should’ve been straight up with you back at the store, probably. But you seemed like you were kind of upset, and I didn’t want to freak you out more by saying I’d come in just because you had. But no, I wasn’t following you. Skeeter lives a few blocks from here, and I was heading to his place. And when I saw you going into the store, I instantly wanted to stop to say hello, but I also did think that I could grab the snacks while I was there. So . . . I guess we could call that a stretch of the truth. My apologies for doing it.”

  She stared at me again, and I could see indecision and skepticism warring on her face. I took advantage of that lack of resistance to pull her the rest of the way toward the restaurant. We’d actually gotten all the way inside and were waiting for the hostess to come over to seat us before Gia spoke.

  “What do you mean, you don’t lie? That’s a crock of shit in itself. Everyone lies.”

  “Okay.” I nodded. “I understand that might be right, from a certain point of view. So I’ll rephrase it. To the best of my knowledge and ability, I don’t tell lies. I go out of my way to try to be truthful. Is that better?”

  “I’m not sure.” She frowned at me, her forehead drawing together yet again. “I’ve never met a man who could even say something like that with a straight face.”

  “Table for two?” The woman who now stood behind the podium was smiling brightly as her gaze flickered between Gia and me. Maybe she was wondering why I was with a woman whose stance made it clear she wasn’t comfortable. I remembered enough from my college psych classes to recognize the signs: her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her body was angled slightly away from me . . . and her mouth was tight. I had a twinge of doubt about having forced the issue; maybe I should’ve paid for her food and let her go home by herself.

  But dammit, fate or God or the fucking universe had thrown this woman right across my path. We hadn’t exchanged more than a few words in all the years I’d known her, but now here she was, standing next to me. Was I going to let an opportunity like this pass me by? I might’ve been a thick-headed halfback, but I wasn’t stupid. Until Gia outright demanded that I take her home, I was going to enjoy being here with her.

  I shifted to face the hostess, turning on my full charm. “Yes, please. Oh, and is there any way you could make it a quieter table? We haven’t seen each other in a while, and we’d like to be able to catch up.”

  The woman was already reaching for menus. “Of course. You’re in luck, because it’s still early, and there aren’t too many people here yet. Right this way.”

  I spread out the arm that wasn’t holding her grocery bag. “After you.”

  Gia hesitated a second. When she began to follow the hostess, I breathed a silent sigh of relief. I’d been terrified that she was going to turn on her heel and take off. She was still jittery, still a flight risk, but once we were sitting down at a table, I figured she’d be less likely to run.

  At least, that was my hope.

  Our table was small, but as I’d requested, it was in a corner, away from other diners. I held Gia’s chair before I sat down across from her, settling her groceries at my feet, under the table.

  “Hey, don’t let me forget your stuff when we leave. It’s sitting here on my feet. Your eggrolls are giving my toes frostbite.”

  “They’ll probably be all melted and ruined after we sit here for an hour.” She crossed her arms over her chest, reminding me of a petulant sixteen-year-old.

  “Nah. That crap never goes bad. It’s so filled up with chemicals and sodium and other shit no one can pronounce, it would survive into the apocalypse.” I wrinkled my nose. “That’s not real food, honey.”

  “It is so real food. It’s my real food. And don’t call me honey. I’m not your honey.” Her eyes flared, and something in me leaped. That fire in her reminded me of the girl I’d met five years ago. It told me that she was still there, under the mostly silent, expressionless woman who’d been with me tonight.

  “No, real food is not stuff you get in a box and then heat up in a microwave. Real food is fresh. It comes in all the colors, like green and red and orange and yellow. It has to be prepared with love and care. And the honey was just a figure of speech . . . baby doll.” I couldn’t resist the tease, and I was rewarded with a roll of her eyes.

  “Whatever. For me, it’s the closest thing I get to legit nutrition, okay? So try not to stomp on it while we’re sitting here letting it thaw.” Gia flipped over the menu and began studying it, apparently giving me notice that the discussion was over. I decided to let it go for now.

  “Welcome to Amico’s. Can I get you something to drink while you’re deciding?” Rocco, the waiter who approached our table, was an older man, wearing an apron with faded stains from red sauce. He nodded at me; I ate here often enough almost to be considered a regular.

  Gia handed him her menu. “I’m ready to order now. I’ll have side salad with balsamic vinaigrette. And a water. Please.”

  The server cocked an eyebrow at her. “Okay. Bottled water? Still or sparkling?”

  “Just tap water with ice.” She leaned back in her chair, lips pressed together.

  I knew what she was doing. She was thinking that she wasn’t going to let me buy her any more food than was absolutely necessary, and she was positioning herself to get the hell out of here fast.

  But this chick didn’t know that she was dealing with the master. With a broad smile, I too handed over my menu. “What’s the family meal tonight, Rocco?”

  The waiter grinned back. “Baked gnocchi. It’s damn good tonight, too. You want the whole shebang for both of you? Salad, soup, antipasto and dessert?”

  I nodded. “Why not? Oh, and maybe toss in some extra garlic knots, okay? And we’ll both have a glass of the house red, the pinot, please.”

  “You got it.” Tapping the table, he wheeled around and hustled toward the kitchen, leaving me with a woman whose expression left me little doubt about just how pissed she was.

  “What the hell? Why did you order all that food? And where do you get off ordering for me? I don’t want pasta, I don’t want garlic knots, and I sure as hell don’t want wine.”

  I let her rail at me, not saying a word until she’d sat back with a huff, her cheeks flushed and chest moving up and down. When I spoke again, it was in a calm, even tone.

  “I ordered for both of us because you’re too damn stubborn to eat enough. You’re too skinny. If the only thing you’ve been eating is processed shit like what’s in this bag, it’s not a surprise. You need more than
a small salad.”

  Gia opened her mouth to interrupt, but I lifted one finger, fixed her with a stern look and kept talking.

  “Second, I ordered all that food because I eat a lot.” Pointing to my body, I lifted one shoulder. “It takes a shit ton of fuel to keep this going, sugar.”

  This time, she didn’t bother trying to correct me. She just stared over my shoulder, blowing out a long sigh.

  “Third, you don’t have to drink the wine if you don’t want to. I asked for it because it’s a nice complement to the food. I don’t drink except for a little wine with a really good meal and a beer with my buddies now and then. I never get wasted. And I respect people who prefer not to indulge at all.”

  Gia fidgeted with her linen napkin. “I’m not an alcoholic. I don’t mind wine or beer. But I don’t like to be around people who have to drink to have a good time.”

  “Me, neither,” I agreed. “Look at that. We found something in common.” I paused, letting her digest that, before I went on. “Why were you sitting on the floor in the grocery store, crying?”

  She flinched as though I’d hit her. “I was hoping maybe you’d be nice enough not to ask.”

  “It has nothing to do with being nice. What kind of person would I be if I wasn’t concerned that I found you there, like that?”

  “I don’t know. An acquaintance who knows enough to mind his own business? I’m still not real clear on how the hell you recognized me. I can’t even remember the last time I saw you. It had to have been down at Carolina, right? At least a year and half or two years ago?”

  I gave my head a slight shake. “No. It was last year.” I hesitated, wondering if I should bring up what had to be a sensitive topic. “Uh, I was at Matt’s funeral. But I’m not surprised you didn’t remember that.”

  “Oh.” Her pretty pink lips formed the single syllable in a tone faintly tinged with surprise. “Of course, you were. I didn’t . . . I was pretty out of it for that whole week. I wouldn’t know who was there or who wasn’t.” Her eyes softened, going glassy for a moment before she recovered slightly. “Still, we talked once down at your college, we saw each other here and there over the years, and you saw me at a funeral. Yet you recognized me going into a store and had to chase me down?”

  I wasn’t ready to talk about that yet, so quibbling with details was my best deflection. “I didn’t chase you down. I went into the market to say hello. I hadn’t seen you since the funeral, so I wanted to just . . . I don’t know. See how you’re doing.”

  “And lucky guy that you are, you walk in and find out exactly how I am doing when you find me pitching a fit in the snack aisle because the fucking store was out of ridged chips.”

  I struggled to keep from smirking. “That’s the reason you were crying? Because they were out of your chips?”

  Gia tilted her head. “It was one reason. Let’s call it the straw that broke the camel’s back, okay?”

  “Sure.” I decided not to push too much. I didn’t want to spook her now, when it seemed as if she was relaxing a little.

  “It’s been a hard year.” For the first time tonight, the hard, guarded expression melted away, leaving so much vulnerability that my fingers itched to reach across and cover her hands where they gripped the edge of the table.

  “I know.” I kept my tone even, hoping it held empathy without pity. When she glanced at me, frowning again, I elaborated. “Leo talks about you a lot. He worries, you know.”

  “Ah, that’s right. I keep forgetting you and Leo are friends.” She smiled a little, and I wanted to see her look like that more. “Sometimes it’s hard for me to believe that he and I are so close. Not sure if you realized it, but we went to high school together, Leo, Matt and me. I knew of them both, of course, because they were the big football stars, but I never talked to either of them until Quinn started dating Leo. Even then, it was just . . . you know. Acquaintances. And I thought Matt was the biggest asshole around.” Her smile faded. “Maybe I was right. Maybe if I’d kept that in mind back in Carolina at the bar where we were all hanging out, I’d be in a different place, and Matt . . .” She shrugged. “Well, who the hell knows? Maybe he’d still be alive. Or maybe not.”

  “No way to know,” I agreed. “I guess I didn’t realize you and Matt hadn’t known each other before . . . that night.”

  Gia snorted. “I knew him, but he didn’t know me. Matt had been the dude I loved to hate since junior high. He was such a jerk. He bullied people, he got in trouble—well, he should’ve gotten into trouble, but usually he managed to get out of it because his grandparents are fucking millionaires. He walked around the school like he was God’s gift to Eatonville. He—” She broke off as the server returned to drop off a basket heaped with beautiful, dripping-with-butter garlic knots. I nudged the food toward Gia, but she ignored it.

  My stomach was empty, though, and these knots were some of my favorite things to eat. I dropped one onto my own bread plate and then placed another on Gia’s.

  “Try them dipped in the marinara. I’m telling you, this is God’s own food. Pretty sure they’re made by the angels.”

  “No, thanks.” Still, I didn’t miss the way she eyed the bread. I had a feeling that if I got her distracted enough, she might start eating without even realizing it.

  “I’m not surprised to hear that about Matt. He didn’t change much during college.” I paused long enough to stuff one entire knot into my mouth. A tiny frown formed between Gia’s eyebrows as she watched me.

  “You just ate that in one bite.” There was a tinge of disbelief in her voice. I hoped there wasn’t derision, too.

  I finished chewing and swallowed. “Sorry about that. I’m famished. And these are damned good.”

  Gia’s gaze flickered back down to the plate in front of her, and she tore off a small piece. “Did you skip breakfast and lunch today? And you’re lecturing me about eating?”

  “Nope, I never miss a meal. But remember I’m a football player, and I’m training.”

  She finished the bit of bread and reached for more. “It’s off-season. Like, way off season. I thought you guys took a break.”

  I snagged another knot. “We do, kind of. But I just got traded to Philadelphia, and I wanted to hit the ground running with the team, so I’ve been working out with the guys. It’s important to make a good impression. I’d like to stay around here for a while.”

  “Who were you with before?” Gia spooned some of the marinara sauce onto her bread plate and dragged the last bit of her garlic knot through it. “What team, I mean?”

  “New York.” I leaned back in my chair to watch her, trying not to be too obvious about it.

  “But you didn’t like it?”

  I lifted a shoulder. “It was fine, for a start. But my Pops is starting to slow down, and even though there’s nothing really wrong with the team in New York, I wasn’t who they needed. Which meant they weren’t who I needed. So, it worked out for me to move down here, where I can be with my Pops most of the time and feel like I can contribute more to the team.”

  She nodded. “I get that. You think it will work out here?”

  “I hope so. I’m doing my best to make sure it does. I like Philly, and being here has a lot of benefits.” One of whom was sitting right here in front of me . . . not that I was going to blurt out that truth just now. She’d be gone so fast, I wouldn’t even see her dust. I coughed a little, clearing my throat. “Uh, I’d been living down here and commuting up to north Jersey for everything while I was with New York, so this drive into the city is a breeze. I have so much more time now.”

  “You live with your . . . what did you call him? Your Pops? Is that your father?” Gia lifted the cloth napkin to wipe butter from her fingers.

  The salad and antipasto course arrived at the table, and I waited to answer her until we’d both picked up our forks. I noticed without reacting that this time, she didn’t fuss about eating the food in front of her.

  “Pops is my grandfather. I’ve l
ived with him since I was a baby, and I’d do anything for him.” The truth was simple, and I didn’t see any reason to make it more complicated.

  She frowned again and took another bite of salad. “Where are your parents? What happened to them?”

  “I never knew them. They lived with Pops while my mother was pregnant with me, and then they took off. We haven’t seen them since.”

  Gia stared at me, her eyes narrowing. “They just left you? Their own baby?”

  This wasn’t the first time I’d answered the question, but the fact that it was Gia asking made me more thoughtful about how I responded. “I know it sounds harsh when you say it that way, but it’s not so bad. My Pops is . . . well, he’s awesome. The people who made me and gave me life were messed up. Both of them were addicted to drugs, and they didn’t have the capacity to be my parents. But they did the next best thing. They were smart enough and cared enough to leave me with the one person they knew would never let me down.”

  “Hmmm.” She didn’t seem convinced. “I guess that’s one way of looking at it. So you’re really close to your grandfather?”

  “Yeah. He’s the best. I mean, yeah, he’s old, and he can be kind of crotchety and stubborn now, but underneath it all, he’s a giant marshmallow. I never once doubted that he loved me, and I don’t have any memory of feeling deprived because he was raising me.”

  Gia was silent for a few seconds. “Lucky you,” she murmured, almost too softly for me to hear. “I wish my parents had taken lessons from your Pops.”

  I quirked an eyebrow. “You grew up feeling deprived?”

  “We never lacked for anything material. My dad is a stockbroker, and our family had a big house, fancy cars and all that shit. But I’m the youngest of six girls, and my parents split up when I was eight. I was either lost in the shuffle of kids or used by my mom to make my father feel guilty about leaving us. My mother didn’t bother hiding the fact that she couldn’t wait for me to finish school so she could sell the house and get on with her life.” She spoke flippantly, with a strong undertone of self-deprecating humor, but I didn’t miss the flash of hurt in her eyes.