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At the corner of the room, I watch myself cower as things are thrown at my head.
I swallow dryly as I stare at my closet and how it was never a good hiding spot when he came home drunk.
I’m bombarded with all these thoughts at once, suddenly feeling as if I were, once again, the scared little kid who couldn’t understand why his father hated him so much.
Or why his mother hid away, preferring me to take a beating rather than coming to my defense.
I flinch when Jack grabs my shoulder, realizing that I’m hyperventilating.
“Hey. It’s okay, Nate. It’s me. Just me,” he repeats with his hands up. “Breathe, brother. No one can hurt you now. No one.”
I close my eyes and count to ten, reviewing every tool Doc taught me. It takes me a couple of minutes, but soon, my breathing becomes more even.
“Nate, grab what you came for, and let’s go,” Jack orders in that authoritarian captain’s voice.
I nod and pick up a pillow, taking the case off it so I can use it to carry what I came for.
On a small mantle above my desk are all my trophies and medals from playing hockey when I was a kid. These are the only good memories I have of my youth. They are the only things I want to hold onto.
It took Lottie to give me that scrapbook to remind me that some things are just too precious to forget. Too important not to treasure. My youth might not have been extraordinary, or even good, for that matter, but it was mine. It made me who I am, and despite all of it, I still managed to escape it and become someone I can take pride in.
With one simple scrapbook, Lottie reminded me of my worth.
She gave me my pride back when this house did its best to strip it away from me.
So to leave this small treasure trove of trophies and medals in the hands of people who never gave a shit about me feels wrong—sacrilegious even.
If anyone should have a piece of me, it’s Lottie.
She is the only one worthy of my past, present, and future.
“Are you done?” Jack asks patiently.
I take one long look at my room and nod.
“I’m done,” I reply and walk out of this house of horrors, vowing to never return.
“Relax, dude. It’s a party, not a funeral,” Caleb jokes, sipping his fifth beer.
“Yeah, whatever,” I mumble, still nursing my first bottle.
Though I caved and came with Caleb to this shindig, I’m not going to make the rookie mistake of getting trashed. The press has finally moved on and forgotten about me, so there is no way I’ll do something stupid like getting shitfaced.
Besides, I don’t intend on staying too long.
I have a phone call waiting for me when I get back to the hotel later tonight, and there is no way I’m missing it.
It’s only been a few days since I left Cape Cod, but not being able to hold Lottie like I want to, or touch her, or kiss her—well, let’s just say I’ve had to take a lot of cold showers just to get by.
Her phone calls are the highlight of my day, so I’m not going to miss one because of a party.
“Dude, stop being such a downer. You remember we won, right? That we beat the New York Mavericks on their own turf?”Caleb challenges me when he sees me scowling. “You should be dancing with the hottest girl here instead of moping about like some married guy.”
But just as he says it, a smile crests on my lips, imagining Lottie in a beautiful fifties-style wedding dress. I never thought about things like that or even wanted them before. However, with Lottie, I want it all.
“Huh? What’s happening to your face? Is that a smile, Nate?” Caleb jokes with a loud laugh. “Stop it, dude. Go back to being all moody and grumpy. You smiling like the Joker is freaking me out.”
I chuckle at Caleb’s over-the-top description of me, but I still can’t keep the smile off my face—all because I can’t stop imagining the woman I’m in love with dressed in white walking towards me. Caleb planted that image in my head, and now it won’t leave.
