AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He chuckles, but it’s low and almost self-depreciating. “Believe it or not, it was when I was eleven.”
“Eleven, really?”
“Yeah. That was the year my mum died—head-on collision with a tractor trailer. They said she died on impact.” He clears his throat and runs a hand along his stubbled jaw. “After that, my dad lost himself in work. He wasn’t there much for me or my brothers, and since I was the oldest, that left me in charge.”
“I’m so sorry, Foster. How old were your brothers?”
“Finn was nine, and Rowan was two.”
“Well, that’s not fair. You were a kid, too.”
“Yeah.” He pauses and looks at a picture of my brothers and me from high school. Rhett and Heath both had games that night, and since I was a cheerleader, I was stuck at the stadium while Rhett played alone. After the games were done, I made them pose with me under the bleachers. “I was playing hockey, too. Damn near quit that year. Finn started stealing to get attention, and there were times I couldn’t get Rowan to stop crying. It was a lot for an eleven-year-old.”
“It would’ve been a lot for an adult. I couldn’t imagine going through what you did so young.” I pick at a piece of non-existent lint on the knee of my pajama pants and lower my voice. “I’m glad you didn’t give up hockey.”
“Me, too. I probably would’ve ended up working in the same factory my dad wasted away in day after day. And I wouldn’t have met any of the guys on the team.”
Or me.It’s right there on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t bring myself to say it.
That would make this all too real, and right now, I don’t know if I could handle it.
Looks like neither one of us had stellar childhoods.
His dad left him, and there are times I wish mine had done the same. He spent more time drunk and beating the shit out of all of us than he did anything else. My mom and Rhett got the brunt of it, but none of us got out of that house scar-free. It’s why him and I have a non-existent relationship today.
“What about you? Tonight you said you didn’t drink because you don’t want to turn into your dad.” Foster turns back to me, his eyes sad, like he already knows what I’m going to say. “I know he’s not exactly a good guy now. Was he pretty bad growing up?”
“I think bad is an understatement.”
“Tell me.”
I clasp my hands together on top of my bent leg and focus on my chipped purple nail polish. “I can’t remember a time when he wasn’t drinking. It would start every day when he got home from work, and the more he drank, the worse he got. He’d start yelling and threatening us, and my mom would always jump to our defense, even if he was being unreasonable. She was quick to put us to bed, and I was mad at her for the longest time. All my friends got to stay up later than me.”
“How old were you?”
“I think I was four or five. I was too young to see all the bruises. The lies. I believed what I was told, well, until he raised his hand to me for the first time.”
“Avery...” His voice sounds pained, and I don’t dare look up.
“Rhett jumped between us. I thought Dad was going to kill him. I was crying and screaming, and when he looked at me, I didn’t recognize him. Heath took me outside and we hid in the neighbor’s tree house until the lights went out. We stayed with Rhett that night. I don’t think I let go of his hand for a single second. They tried to protect me as best they could, but there were times they weren’t there. And I didn’t want them to get hurt for me. I remember telling myself how strong I was, how I wouldn’t cry, how I would hide the bruises so they wouldn’t know.”
“He…” Foster trails off and takes a deep breath. He’s clenching the back of the couch so hard, his knuckles are white. “He fucking put his hands on you?”
I nod, my mind taking me back to the first time. I had taken a juice box from the fridge, and even though I hadn’t asked permission any time before, he needed it then. There was no apology in the world that could break through his alcohol fueled rage, and I knew it was my turn.
Your brothers aren’t here to protect you now, little girl.
I could smell the vodka on his breath, see the stains on his teeth, and I could hear the clink of his belt as he un-looped it from his pants. He didn’t stop until the backs of my thighs were full of welts and covered in blood.
“He was always careful not to leave marks where people could see them, and I always found a way to justify his behavior, like I should have known better than to make him angry. Only everything made him angry, and his rules constantly changed. I spent a long time thinking I was the problem. We don’t talk anymore.”
“You were never the problem.” The anger in his tone gets my attention, and I meet his heated gaze. He looks murderous. If I thought he was angry earlier when that random guy wanted to kiss me, it’s nothing compared to the fury written across his face right now. “I know he’s your dad, but Avery, I swear to Christ, if he ever tries to come near you or Mason, I will end him.”
“He’s not worth going to jail for.”
“No, but you are.”
I don’t say anything back because I’m stunned. Foster Craig, badass playboy hockey player—who doesn’t get attached to anyone—would go to jail for me.
