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Chapter 17
Present
"Oakley's finally gone, eh?" Braden huffs, bent over and gripping his knees while he tries to catch his breath.
I ran him to the ground in the gym today. It's a rare occurrence for Braden to workout anywhere other than his dad's boxing gym, but he's a sucker for the equipment at the private gym myself and a few of my teammates go on our days off. The treadmills happen to actually be from this century.
"Yeah, he couldn't get on the plane fast enough this morning."
"You think he's getting laid tonight?" He wears a shit-eating grin, his lack of filter makes my nose wrinkle in disgust. The thought of what Ava and Oakley do when they're alone time is not something I often find myself thinking about.
"You're fucked," I shoot at him.
"Not as fucked as you, apparently. Tell me, why wasn't I filled in on your newfound love fest with baby Hutton?"
I clench my jaw and glare at him, stiffening my back to try and stand taller than him, but I fail. He's got a solid three inches on me.
"I hit a soft spot, did I, buddy?" he taunts.
"I'll be the one hitting if you don't shut up," I snap before relaxing my shoulders and trying to steady my racing heartbeat.
I brush off his watchful eyes and start walking to the locker room. Bringing my right hand up, I push open the heavy door and leave him laughing proudly to himself.
Braden joins me in the locker room a few seconds later. "I don't blame you for finally caving. Gracie's a fucking dime."
The mirrors on the wall shake dangerously beside us as I slam him up against the wall, my arm pushing up under his jaw to hold him in place. "Don't talk about her like that," I growl, keeping a dangerous amount of pressure on his throat.
"Aye, aye, captain," he gasps, wearing a grin despite the fact that I am cutting off his airway. He eyes my arm tucked under his chin. With a huff, I step back. He lurches forward, catching his breath.
"You good now?" Braden gasps, colour coming back to his face.
"I will be once I get the hell away from you." I open my locker, a pile of dirty clothes falling onto the ground.
"Shit, dude. I think it's time to do some laundry." His fake gag causes my eyes to roll as I bend down and hastily grab the clothes, shoving them in my open bag. Deciding to save myself from the unwanted company, I shrug on my jacket and slam the locker door shut.
"See you tomorrow." I slap his shoulder a little harder than necessary as I walk past him. I don’t wait for a response and leave him standing there alone, a smirk on his face no doubt.
There's not a single cloud in the night sky tonight, only millions upon millions of shiny dots laughing down at me. My driver's side door creaks when I pull it open, and I remind myself yet again to oil the damn thing. I'll add that to the endless list of things I need to do. The engine comes to life with a low rumble, blowing a large cloud of black smoke into the night. I roll down the window before pulling out into the empty street.
I'm pleasantly surprised to see the absence of my mother when I pull up outside my building. She's been here every day this week like clockwork, always sitting in the cold, forgetting all about the key that rests in her jacket pocket. I have come to the realization that Allen must have been gone again, most likely knocked out in an abandoned alleyway high out of his mind. She's always here more when he's gone.
I throw my bag over my shoulder and head inside, not wanting to stay out in the street longer than I have to. The neighbourhood's not great, but I would rather live here than in some fancy building that I don't feel comfortable in.
I know my friends don't understand why I continue to live in a neighbourhood filled with police sirens and potholes the size of Texas that the city can't be bothered enough to fix. It's where I feel the most at home. But I guess I can see where they're coming from. I make enough to live anywhere I want. But I can't seem to make the move, so I just don't.
Every last breath of air leaves my lungs when I slide my key into my apartment door to find it already unlocked.
"Fuck."
I shove the key back in my pocket, carefully place my hand on the knob, and turn, pushing the door open inch by inch. The lamp beside my couch is pouring a dull, yellow light throughout the small living room, illuminating it just enough for me to catch sight of my mom passed out on the couch.
I let out a sigh before moving entirely into the apartment, shutting and locking the door behind me. Turning back, I almost let an exhausted laugh slip past my lips.
"When are you going to get it, Mom?" I whisper, shaking my head. I guess I should be thankful for her finally remembering her key and that she has also managed to make herself a makeshift bed on my couch.
Taking careful steps, not wanting the creaky floorboards to jolt her from her sleep, I tuck the blanket in beside her and place a kiss on the top of her head. As I flick off the lamp, I start to wonder if this will always be my life.
A continuous pounding on my door tears me from my third hour of sleep.
