Love's Spark

by L A Cotton

  “What changed, Dad?”

  His eyes grew sad. “I know you think it was having you and your brother. But she started to change before that. She grew restless with life, always wanting more, and as her husband, I gave it to her. I wanted to make her eternally happy.”

  “I can't remember us ever being a happy family.”

  “We often only remember the bad, sweetie. But we had happy times, too. So happy. And for a long time, they were worth all the bad times.”

  “But?”

  “Well, everyone has a limit. And your mother crossed mine a long time ago.”

  It was on the tip of my tongue—the question I'd wondered for so many years. “Why didn't you leave her, Dad?”

  He reached out for my hand and pulled me closer to him. “I made vows to your mother. Vows I believed in and was determined to uphold. For better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part.”

  A single tear escaped me, rolling down my cheek and onto the collar of my jacket. Dad pulled me into a hug and whispered in my ear, “We'll be okay. I'll be okay. But we need to stick together.” He pulled away and placed a kiss on my forehead, rose from the bed, and walked out.

  ~

  School was starting to show signs of the impending summer break. There was a buzz of anticipation in the hallways, even the teacher’s lounge, and everyone was getting a little restless. It was Thursday afternoon, and sixth period had just finished. I planned to stay behind and grade. Things with Dad were better after his little revelation about Mom, the house, and the divorce, but I still felt suffocated there.

  A knock at my door startled me and I dropped my pen. “Come in. Oh, hi, Keylon. What can I do for you?”

  He looked uncomfortable, rocking on his feet, with his hands jammed into his pockets. “You said, well, umm, you said that I could always come talk to you...” His voice trailed off.

  “Of course, sweetie. Would you like to sit down?” I could tell that it hadn't been an easy decision for him to come and see me. So I gave him time; waiting for him to talk.

  After almost a minute he said, “It's Treyvon.”

  The hairs on my arms bristled as I considered what he might be about to disclose. “Keylon, you can tell me anything, sweetie, but if I think you're in harm’s way, I can't promise to keep it a secret.”

  He lowered his head. “I know, Miss M. I know you gotta tell someone. But I can't stand by anymore. Momma, she wants out.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Treyvon…he gets angry. And he's involved with some bad guys. He's always trying to get my brothers and me to run errands for him. Momma tries to protect us, but it just makes things worse.”

  My heart clenched at his words. “Sweetie, what happens when Treyvon gets angry?”

  His eyes darted from me to the wall clock and back again. “He never hits us or anything; he just shouts and smashes things up, but…but he gets all up in Momma’s face. He…beat her bad, Miss M. I saw everything, but Momma she said not to call the police…”

  For the next forty minutes, Keylon disclosed a heartbreaking story. He kept reassuring me that Treyvon never raised a hand to him, his brothers, or sister, but he sounded like a frightening man with a tendency to blow a fuse at the smallest of things. I listened intently, trying to absorb as much as I could for the inevitable referral that would need to be initiated. Keylon suspected Treyvon was making his brothers run drugs for him, and he’d approached Keylon more than once about entering the ‘family business.’

  After reassuring him that he did the right thing by talking to me, I checked that he would be okay getting home. No teacher ever wanted to send a child back into a potentially violent environment, but I had to follow the procedure. Keylon left walking a little taller. He’d been carrying so much around with him—a burden no fourteen-year-old should have to shoulder. I made a written account of everything that he had told me and went in search of Mrs. Walms. She was the school’s coordinator for referrals to child protective services.

  On the drive home, I felt emotionally drained. Relaying everything to Mrs. Walms hadn’t been easy, but she assured me the appropriate agencies would be contacted and informed. It wouldn’t be the first time that they’d been involved with the King family. I just wanted to go home, grab some dinner, and sink into bed. It’d been a tough couple of hours.

  I almost collided with Dad as I pushed open the front door. “Oh, great, you’re just in time. Let’s go.”

  “Wh-what, Dad? I’ve just walked in.”

  “There’s a house that’s just come on the market, and I think it’d be perfect for us. It’s walking distance to the school, has a great yard, and it’s in our price range. The realtor’s meeting us there.”

  My head didn’t have time to process his words as he nudged me out of the door and toward his Jeep. The last thing I wanted was to join Dad’s enthusiasm about a new house.

  I laid my head on the window and watched the world pass by. Dad launched into a sales speech about the one-story that he thought had ‘real potential.’ I zoned out until Dad started slowing down on NW 13th Circle.

  He pulled up next to a house that was surrounded by a small forest. He couldn’t get his belt off quick enough. “Oh, wow, look at this. Isn’t it great?” He turned to me and beamed, but all I could manage was a forced a smile. “Hey, come on, I know you won't be living here forever with your old man, but I want it to be home for you and Russ as well.”

  He was right. One day, he'd be here alone. It wasn't fair to him for me to act like a petulant child. I walked around to him and grabbed his hand. “Come on, then. Let’s go look inside.”

  The realtor led us from room to room. The house was already empty and the sellers needed a quick sale after moving out of state. After I managed to look past my own issues about the move, the house was actually really nice; two living rooms, an open plan kitchen-dining area, and three large bedrooms, two with their own bathrooms. It was pretty perfect.

  “So? What do you think?”

  I let my eyes wander around the modern kitchen again. “It's nice, Dad. Really nice.”

  He pulled me into a side hug. “I'm so glad you like it, sweetie. I think we could be really happy here.”

  My mind flooded with memories of the house I'd grown up in. As much as I loved that house, it also reminded me of Mom. And Dad was right, it was time for a fresh start. I squeezed him back. “Me too, Dad. Me, too.”

  ~

  Dad wasted no time and put in an offer. It meant pushing the buyers of our house for a quicker sale, but he seemed confident the timeline would work out.

  We spent Saturday at the realtor’s office, and Sunday, Russ came home to go see it with us. The distractions had been just what I needed and there hadn't been much time to think about Keefer.

  Tuesday afternoon soon rolled around. My heart fluttered at the thought of seeing him, but my stomach felt sick with apprehension. Just breathe, I ordered myself. My feet moved slowly toward the field. I could see Keefer talking to the boys. Dressed in his usual sweats, white and navy jersey, and his trademark Yankees cap pulled down low over his dirty blond hair, my heart raced faster with every step closer. As if he felt my eyes lingering on him, he lifted his head in my direction and smiled. Damn. This was going to be harder than I thought.

  “Hey, Miss M.” Keylon jogged in my direction. “You gotta play with us. It's our last week,” he pouted and I laughed. “That's unfair, Keylon, and you know it.”

  “Miss M, Miss M,” rang out across the field, and Keefer held his jaw, trying to conceal the smirk playing across his face.

  I held up my hands and conceded. “Fine, fine, let’s play ball.”

  If someone had told me three months ago that I'd find playing baseball— with a bunch of ninth graders—exhilarating, I would have laughed in their face, but it was exactly what I needed.

  Keefer placed me on the opposite team from him, and it seem
ed that I spent the whole game either running from, or into, him. I wasn’t sure if he had planned it that way or not, but he seemed to find any excuse to touch me.

  During the second inning, I was batting and managed to hit the ball into an empty corner of the field. I ran to first base, looked up, and decided to take my chance with second, but as my foot was about to make contact with the base, Keefer collided with me, literally sweeping me off of my feet. He managed to roll us in such a way that I landed on top of him. Our bodies were flush, and I could feel his breath as it tickled my lips. “Sorry, I misjudged.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “I'm sure you did.”

  His eyes lingered on my lips, and my skin tingled. Feeling my cheeks begin to flush, I pushed myself back up off him and brushed off my gym pants. Being so close to him wasn’t doing anything to suppress the desire streaking through me.

  The rest of the game, I managed to avoid any physical contact. He had enough on his plate without me making things any more awkward between us. As he and the boys packed up the equipment, I made my excuses about needing to get home and jogged back to my car, just to get away from him. The way he looked at me—with such intensity—I couldn’t think straight. He made my knees weak and my heart stutter. Things between us might have been off, but the spark between us refused to extinguish.

  Chapter 22

  ~ Keefer ~

  When she’d fallen on top of me, fuck, I almost tangled my hands in her hair and pulled her mouth down onto mine. Having her tight little body pressed up against me, feeling her in all the right places—it was almost too much. The whole game had been torture, and more than once I’d maneuvered myself in her path just to feel her. A brush of our hands; her tousled hair sweeping across my arm; her perky tits bouncing every time she ran toward me—I was losing my damn mind. But I had a plan, and it didn’t involve laying it all out on the line. Not yet.

  My inner guy had been air punching the whole drive home. She’d gotten so hot and bothered during the game that she’d skipped out of there in a hurry, leaving no time to talk. We still needed to arrange the trip next week, and I wanted to ask her about Keylon. He’d seemed different during practice, good different, and I knew Sharn would know what was going on with him.

  As soon as I pulled up at the apartment, I grabbed my cell and started typing.

  Me: Hey, needed to talk to you about next week, but you left in a hurry. Everything okay? Anyway, I’ve already cleared it with the principal. He’s agreed to get someone to arrange permission slips for the boys – so it doesn’t ruin the big surprise.

  After pocketing my phone, I headed inside. It’d been almost a week since the nurse filled me in on Dad’s condition. She wasn’t wrong when she said it’d be a slow process. He was more talkative but still as grumpy as a bear with a sore head, and he still hadn’t brought up the incident.

  As I yanked off my cap and ripped the damp jersey over my head, my phone vibrated.

  Sharn: Yeah, everything’s fine. Okay, where should we meet? There was something I wanted to tell you – Keylon disclosed some stuff to me. His family should be getting some support now. Have a good week.

  Damn, she really was giving me space. I couldn’t even lure her into a text conversation. Not that I could blame her. What did you say to someone whose alcoholic father tried to off himself? It couldn’t have been easy finding out about that—especially if it came from Aubrey and Simmy. Those two had been total bitches to Sharn, and there was definitely no love lost there. I still had no clue how she heard it from them, but it was the only explanation that made any sense. The thought of them talking about stuff that they knew nothing about sent my blood boiling.

  Me: Meet in the lot, normal time. That’s great about Keylon. He played a good game today. Catch you next week.

  ~

  “Please tell me you brought me dinner, son?”

  I dropped the bag of snacks next to Dad. He did nothing but complain about the hospital food, so I made sure to stop at the 7-Eleven just around the corner from the center. “Take your pick. There’s jerky, chips, granola, or cup noodles. But I’ll have to try to smuggle in the boiling water. The nurse flipped her lid when she caught me bringing you some last week.”

  He rummaged through the bag while I flicked the channel to ESPN. After taking a handful of chips, he thrust the bag under my nose, the smell of smoky barbecue wafting from the bag.

  “No, thanks. I ate earlier.”

  We sat in our usual silence for an hour. Occasionally, Dad would make some remark at the TV, drawing me into a discussion about the MBL standings. Then he’d revert to ignoring me. After three weeks of it, I was used to it. It didn’t even aggravate me now. I still had questions, but the nurse said he would talk when he was ready. I didn’t want to rock the boat. Besides, I was pretty sure that I wouldn’t like what he had to say. No one wants to hear their dad tell them that life had become too much so he decided to go on one final binge with Johnny, Jim, and Jack.

  My eyes were just about shut when I felt him rustle next to me. I peeled one eye open to find him staring at me with a solemn look on his face. “What?”

  “Nothing... Just thinking. How’re things with that girl?”

  I righted myself and rubbed my eyes as a yawn escaped my throat. “Umm, they’re not. I called things off.”

  Dad’s eyes dropped, and he shifted in the clinical white bed. “What happened, son? When you spoke about her before, I felt sure. Sure that you’d found someone…” His voice trailed off, and he stiffened.

  The conversation was drifting into dangerous territory, but before I could try to find a way to explain that he was the reason why I’d ended things with Sharn, he caught me off guard. Reaching for me, he said, “I’m sorry. I let you down, Keefer. And I’ll never forgive myself.”

  I didn’t realize how badly I needed to hear those words until he said them. Relief flooded me and my body sank into the chair. I wrapped my hand around his and blinked away the tears forming behind my eyes. Don’t cry, you big pussy. But it was no use. One look at Dad’s grief-stricken face and I bawled like a fucking baby.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, through his own tears, and I squeezed his hand in reassurance. “I’m so glad I’m still here, son, you have to believe me. I made a huge mistake. I promise you it will never happen again. Ever. This is it. I will get better. As long as it takes. I will get better, Keefer, I promise.”

  Our hands gripped onto the other, refusing to let go, and my body shook from the moment that passed between us—a father apologizing to his son for almost leaving him. Forever. I felt seven all over again, except this time I could understand the consequences of what could’ve been and what had already come to pass.

  Dad continued to sob as I fought with my emotions. Between him and Sharn, I was a wreck. My body hummed—for a release, for a hard workout, or a game on the field. It was always the same when I was overloaded. But this time, I needed to be here for him—my dad.

  Watching him—a man in turmoil—I knew I needed to do something, anything. So I did something that I hadn’t done in years. I pulled him toward the edge of the bed, rose from the seat, and wrapped my arms around him. “I’m so glad you’re still here, Dad.”

  ~

  For the first time since the hospital called, I could breathe. Dad was finally on the road to recovery. His detox was going well, and he'd started to cooperate. After our meltdown, something changed in him, like a switch flicking, and I knew he was serious about getting sober.

  The whole week flew by. Coach had me working day and night to make sure every detail of the summer program was planned to perfection. And I still had my sessions at juvie to facilitate. Zac and Ethan came with me twice to see Dad, and I had trained in Jacksonville with the Freedom on Saturday.

  I'd waited all week to see Sharn again, but now that it was here, I wished there was more time. After today, she could walk away—for good. The thought had me wanting to put my fist through the steering wheel, but I manage
d to keep my cool. As I pulled the minibus into GHS, Sharn and the boys were waiting on the grass at the side of the parking lot. Most of them looked smart. I'd asked the principal to remind them in the letter that they were representing the school.

  When my eyes found Sharn, my breath lodged in my throat. She looked amazing. She had those jean things on that looked more like a second skin. They hugged the lines of her legs and a loose white shirt just covered her ass. My eyes lazily roamed down her body. A pair of sexy calf-height boots completed her outfit, and her hair was swept to the side with a bundle of curls hanging down over her shoulder. My gaze refused to withdraw, and I was looking at her with such intensity that I even noticed the delicate gold butterflies dropping from each ear. Figures. She was wearing butterflies, and I felt like my stomach was going to explode with them.

  I cut the engine and rolled down the window. “What are you guys waiting for? Come on; let’s go. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”

  The boys ambled onto the bus, some of them saluting or fist bumping me as they moved further in to find a seat. Sharn was last on. She smiled as she climbed the step, her earrings making a soft jangling noise. “Hey.”

  I nodded. “Hey.”

  Yeah, real smooth.

  She took a seat directly behind me. Fuck. It was going to be a long journey. She reached over my shoulder to hand me a thick envelope. As I took it from her, our fingers brushed, sending a shiver up my spine. She blushed and her eyes fluttered, and I sensed our contact had the same impact on her.

  “So, Coach, do I get to know the big surprise yet?” she asked, coyly.

  I winked. Standing, I turned to the boys and banged my fist three times on the roof of the bus. Seventeen heads whipped around in my direction. “Before I reveal the big surprise, I wanted to say a few words. I work with many groups, but I can honestly say I’m going to miss you guys a lot. You’ve all done yourselves proud. You’ve watched me show you how it’s done…”