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“But he wasn’t.”
Chay leaned his forehead against hers
“Coach called me into his office after school.”
“The Grizzlies coach.”
Why did the fact that she’d remembered the name of his high school football team make him so happy?
“Yup. Coach Reed. He told me the University of Colorado was interested in me. That they’d sent him a letter. Well, me and Tanner—which made it even better because we were tight. We hunted together. Fished together. He’d pledged himself to the Sun Dance, but it took another couple of years before I did too.”
“What’s the Sun Dance?”
“A very old Sioux ceremony. You fast, cleanse your body, and kind of open your mind. Then the elders hook you up to a pole and you dance around it until you pull free or collapse. Sounds barbaric, I guess, but it’s a very spiritual experience.”
“I noticed two scars on your chest. Are they from the dance?”
He nodded. Hesitated. And said, in a voice so low she could hardly hear him, “I danced after I almost killed my father.”
He heard her swift intake of breath, felt the sudden stillness in her. But she stayed right where she was. In his lap. In his arms.
“If you almost killed him,” his Tigress said, very calmly, “then he must have needed killing.”
So he told her everything.
The years of beatings. Of incredible brutality. Of the ugly competition, the one-sided fiery jealousy that was his father’s indulgence.
“He used to work odd jobs on nearby ranches, but most ranchers had given up hiring him years before—they couldn’t count on him showing up. He used to saddle-break horses, too, but they stopped using him for that because he whipped the horses that didn’t learn as fast as he wanted. Once I was old enough, I got jobs doing the same things. Odd jobs. Mending fences. Saddle-breaking horses, but without whipping the crap out of them. I worked hard and I got most of the jobs I went after.”
“You were a good kid,” Bianca said softly.
“Not according to my old man. By then, he was spending more time living with us, mostly because he had no income. People knew he was a mean drunk and nobody wanted to have him around. But he blamed me. He said it was because I badmouthed him, that I lied and cheated him out of work.”
“And he took his anger out on you?”
Chay nodded. “It was bad, but I told myself I just had to stick it out. Another year and I’d be gone. College was only a dream because I didn’t have the money, but I figured on enlisting in the service.” He paused. “Then that scholarship letter arrived and changed everything.”
“I can imagine.” She smiled. “It meant you could get away.”
“Yes. But that wasn’t the change I meant.”
“No?”
“No,” Chay said. “I came home all excited that day. My father was sitting in the door of our trailer, waiting for me. One look at his face and I knew it was going to be bad. I could see the rage in his eyes, smell the booze on his breath
. And I could see two other things. He had his belt wrapped around the knuckles of his right hand. I’d felt the bite of it before—it was wide and heavy, and it had brass studs embedded in the leather.”
Bianca’s eyes locked onto his. “Oh, Chayton,” she whispered.
“The second thing I saw was the letter. Coach had forwarded a copy to him.” Chay gave a bitter laugh. “Talk about mistakes…”
“What happened?”
“My father stood up. He spat on the letter and tossed it at my feet. He said he’d played football too. And that I was—I was shit compared to him, and how had I cheated my way into a scholarship offer? I should have kept my mouth shut—but I didn’t. I got angry. I told him I’d never cheated on anybody or anything in my life.”
“Don’t, sweetheart,” Bianca said softly, and she pressed a light kiss to his lips.
“He came at me. He slammed me in the face and I went down. ‘Get up,’ he said, and I got up. He put me down again. I got up. He kept hitting me and I kept getting up and then I heard my mother screaming. ‘Stay down, Chayton,’ she said, ‘for God’s sake, stay down.’ But I got up and she came running down the steps and I saw her and he spun around and punched her in the face and she went down, unconscious, and I—I went crazy.”
