During the school week, I trained six hours a day. Two hours in the morning and four after school. More on the weekends. He kept me busy every minute of the day. Since beer was the only alcohol permissible for the coaches while on the field, the cocktails continued once he got home. He and his girlfrienddrank freely while they stumbled their way through reading the bible to me every night. My demons be damned.
The fun thing we were doing together now was watching free straight porn. He was so gross.
“Yes, sir. I forgot.” Based on his expression, my dad clearly didn’t believe him.
“Come on. You’re done for today.”
“I’ll see you Monday,” Scott said, then tried his best to divert my father’s attention. “Pretty sure the Titans are going all the way this year.”
“Are you nuts?”
It was then I saw the man following my father into my room. Scott’s save had failed. I got an angry finger pointed at me. “I’m gettin’ tired of the mopin’. Show me you’re gettin’ better, or we’ll have to move to other options. You aren’t gonna like ’em. This pastor’s gonna talk to you and you’re gonna respond. You hear me?”
Scott had to have heard, but I don’t care. A set of blue eyes that remained just below my closed lids was my only happiness. I turned to stare back outside the window, knowing all he really cared about was this season’s playoff games. If I performed, he wouldn’t send me off somewhere to deteriorate.
Nine Months Later, the Fourth of July
Southlake, Texas
I scrolled through the countless unreturned text messages, wishing for a sign from Beau.
Today held meaning. My birthday and the day I first made love to my guy. I missed him so much.
“Come on, douche,” Chandler said as he pushed open my bedroom door uninvited. “Get your ass moving and bore everyone downstairs while you blow out the candles.”
He wasn’t wrong about the energy surrounding me these days. It had been a full year since I last spoke to Beau and all I seemed able to do was wait for his reply to any of the dozens and dozens of texts I sent.
Like I lectured myself many times, I wasn’t a quitter. I knew what I wanted and had to stay the course. Strength built quickly. I had to be steady for when I saw my love again.
With a practiced move, I flipped open my phone and quickly typed a message—an anniversary text, or at least I liked tobelieve we committed to a lifetime together one year ago today.“Today’s meaning is more special to me than my birthday. Last year was the best time of my life. I miss you. I’ll be here. BTW, my father hasn’t had any luck in your case. He’s still trying. I’m waiting. Take your time.”
I reread my words, ensuring I wrote with no acronyms. He deserved complete sentences. After hitting send, I waited a second or two before closing the phone to let the text go through.
“Buddy, you need to move on,” Chandler said, placing a hand on my shoulder, staring me directly in the eyes. Unlike my family, he never pushed me past my limits until right now. “If it’s meant to be, then let it happen. You can’t stop living your life. He wouldn’t want that.”
I was certain about that. The final message Beau sent encouraged me to forget him. An impossible feat that gutted me at the very idea. I deleted it from my phone. He’d come to me. He had to. I saw no other option.
I nodded to Chandler in understanding, fully aware I controlled my world. If nothing else, my focused insistence had to bring Beau back to me.
July 5, One Year Later
Mobile, Alabama
I was nothing short of pissed off as I raced up the stairs at lightning speed to grab my overnight bag from my bedroom. It had been nearly two years since I’d been allowed to spend unsupervised time with my mom, and my stupid old man purposefully kept me out on the football field, letting her wait.
He was such a fucking dick. Since she’d moved back to Mobile, both of us had bent over backward, following every one of his ridiculous rules, and still he was such a giant motherfucker all the time.
My black heart hated him on an unhealthy level.
And all the bad words I used stayed in my head, ready to unleash at any given moment. Except, I never said anything aloud. The resentment I harbored toward my life was ruining me and I was only seventeen.
Why was the age of majority nineteen years old in the state of Alabama? I still had two years of his bullshit. But that information came from my father, and he lied all of the time.
In the entry of my room, I quieted myself and headed for my hiding spot in the floorboard of my closet. Despite the constant surveillance, I’d somehow managed to keep my cell phone from being found.
I tucked it inside my bag, slinging it over my shoulder. I ran down the stairs two at a time, making a beeline for my mom’s car parked at the curb. Hopefully, we’d be heading down the road before my father returned from the garage with a bottle of liquor in hand. I refused to participate in one of his humiliating pat downs again.
The godlike authority he held over me and the way I weakly complied was the most embarrassing part. Well, that, and the peer-pressured kiss I’d given Katie on the field when we were crowned homecoming king and queen. My father had beamed at me with pride.
