“You’re the only man for me,” I sniffle again, ducking my head to catch his gaze. “You are the only man for me. I’m in love with you, Troy. I love you.”
His eyes search mine for endless seconds, and for the first time since our conversation started, I feel his need to believe me. My hopes fall away when his blue gaze drops to the porch between us.
“I tell you I hit on another woman, and you tell me you love me.” He shakes his head, his eyes incredulous. “Can’t you see how fucked up we are?”
“Messy. That’s what we are, but messy together makes us perfect. You said that. I guess you forgot that part.”
“I don’t want to.”
He rakes a hand through his hair as I study him. I’ve never seen him so distraught.
“Troy, what happened tonight?”
“I did what I always do, I screwed things up by thinking I could mean more.”
“You mean a lot to plenty of people, including your son and me.”
He brings watery eyes to mine. “Hope so.”
“Please, you’re scaring the hell out of me. Tell me what—”
“I have to leave,” he says, his voice cracking as he wipes at his eyes furiously with the back of his hand. “I’m going to have to b-break a promise to Dante. I’m supposed to take him fishing tomorrow, but I have shit to figure out.”
“What do you mean, leave?”
“I’ve been kicked out.”
“Theo kicked you out?”
He nods. “I deserved it. Trust me.”
“What did you do?”
“It was his girlfriend.”
“What?”
“I hit on his girlfriend.” He shakes his head. “It was a misunderstanding, but no one will believe that. He sure as hell didn’t. To him, it’s just me being me, right? It should come as no surprise to anyone that this entitled jock tried to take what didn’t belong to him. Just Troy being Troy.”
“That’s not who you are at all.”
His eyes snap to mine. “You’re the only one who’s seen me, in years. You’re the only one who’s seen me, and you”—tears glide down his face—“you still couldn’t believe me. You’re the one person in the fucking world I needed to believe me.”
“Tell me what to say.” My heart is chipping away piece by piece, and I’m helpless to stop it. “Tell me what to say, what to do.”
He swallows. “I can’t do this anymore with you,” another tear glides down his cheek. “I can’t be here anymore. Just…don’t let my son think I left him. Promise me. I’ll apologize to him myself when I can do it without feeling like this.” He buries his face in his hands, his chest pumping with his silent cries. I’m ashes standing next to him, the unbearable ache to pull him into me making it impossible to breathe. “I just need to get myself t-together,” he cries hoarsely, his body shuddering. “I’m trying, Clarissa. I’m trying so f-f-fucking hard.”
“I know you are. Troy, I know,” unable to take another second, I move to embrace him, and he jerks his head, staring down at me with red-rimmed eyes.
“I love you so fucking much it hurts,” he says softly, “but that’s all it seems to do to me. You keep breaking my heart.” And that’s when my own heart stops. He grabs my hand, pulling my palm flat to his chest. “I would’ve given it all up for you. Everything, ball, everything, if you would have just given me all of you.”
Openly crying, we stare at the other, our hearts raw. I’ve never in my life loathed myself so much. It’s agony, the sight of him so openly broken, my doing and undoing.
“I hate myself for letting you down. I hate the mess I’ve made. Please don’t go. Stay here with us. We can fix this.” I cling to him, feeling him slip away by the second. Just as he tears himself from my grasp, lifting accusing eyes to mine.
“You know, it was Kevin’s needle,” he says, anger lacing his words as my jaw goes slack. “Apparently, he was experimenting and decided not to make a habit of it. Don’t worry, we had a fist to mouth conversation about it tonight after Theo made sure everyone at that party knew what a piece of shit I am.” He lets out a self-deprecating chuckle before his face turns solemn. “I don’t know if I can forgive him.” He drops his head. “Jesus, I feel like I’ve lost everyone.”
“You haven’t, Troy, please don’t go. Stay. We can fix this.” Clutching my chest, I try to breathe through the pain.
“I can’t,” he drops his stare to the ground as he speaks. “And I can’t have anything real with anyone else until I get over you. And I can’t do that if I see you every damned day.”
“Troy, please hear me, I love you, I trust you. I’m so sorry I was so selfish, so fucking blind. Please don’t go. I’ll do anything.”
The shake of his head says it all. It’s too late.
“I can’t. I’m sorry, I can’t. I need to step back, okay?”
I nod as tears slide down my cheeks. “If that’s what you really want.”
“I’m exhausted. I’m so fucking exhausted.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and makes his way down the steps as a white Taurus pulls up. Halfway to the car, he turns back to me, his eyes pleading. “Just don’t let him think less of me, okay? I will get it together, Clarissa, I swear. I will.”
“I know you will.”
“Please just tell him I’m coming back. Promise me you’ll tell him I’m coming back.”
“I promise,” I manage to get out before he climbs into the back of the car, and the driver pulls away. Just inside the door, I collapse into Parker’s waiting arms.
Alta’s Chicken Enchiladas
Cheerleader, Texas
Makes 10 servings
1 hour and 30 minutes
6–8 Chicken Breasts **Time saver—use 2 cooked rotisserie chickens
10 Flour Tortillas
1 Medium Onion – Chopped
12 Oz. Grated Cheddar Cheese
4 Cans Cream of Chicken Soup
4 Oz. Can Chopped Green Chilies
1/2 Cup Water
Boil chicken for about 45 minutes after water starts to boil.
Remove meat and cut into bite size pieces.
Heat soup, green chilies, and water in saucepan.
*TIP-Spread a large spoonful of soup mixture into the bottom of the pan to keep the enchiladas from sticking.
Place chicken, onion, cheese, and a spoonful of sauce in a tortilla and roll up. Put rolled up tortilla in baking dish. Repeat until the desired number of enchiladas are made.
Pour remaining sauce over enchiladas. Sprinkle any remaining cheese over top.
Bake at 350 degrees for 20-25 minutes.
These are very good served with sour cream and a dash of hot sauce.
Clarissa
The next morning, I made an excuse for Troy at breakfast and Dante sulked for the rest of the day and through the night. It’s only been a few days, the house eerily empty despite the racket Dante makes, but I know it’s the ache I’m battling inside.
I lost him.
I’ve lost him and ruined any chance of the future we’d been dreaming up together. Parker had to leave early this morning for a short trip, and I only managed to go through the motions, every movement a chore, while trying to remind myself to breathe. I broke my own heart because of my inability to trust what I knew to be the truth. My biggest mistake is that I wanted concrete answers, conviction. But love is not concrete, it’s fragile, unforgivingly so. I wanted to love Troy without the risk, but in the end, I realized the only way I could have proved my love was by taking one.
And I failed.
I’m a coward.
A fucking fool.
I self-sabotaged because of my issues.
Dante knows something’s amiss. Every morning when I exit my bedroom, I do my best to put on a brave face, assuring him Troy will be back soon. Days are bearable due to my workload, but the nights are too much to take. All I do is replay every second of our time together, of what we had—every kiss, every look, every touch, every word. His smile, his laug
h, the way he loved me, doted on me. The way he fathered his son with the utmost care. The things he noticed that I didn’t.
Every night after putting Dante down, I gaze over at Troy’s empty bedroom, thinking of how much time I wasted with my hesitance.
I spoon more green beans on Dante’s plate, and he pushes it away.
“I don’t need anymore.”
“Okay, then brownies?”
“No. I’m full. I don’t want to eat my feelings.”
“What? Where did you learn that?”
“I’m not supposed to tell.”
Parker.
Instantly, I’m on alert. When she’s down, sometimes she’s way down. Have I missed something? She seemed fine when she called to check on me.
“Did you hear someone having an adult conversation?”
“No.”
“Don’t lie to me, son.”
“I’m not! I’m not supposed to tell!”
He walks into his bathroom in an attempt to evade me, and I follow as he grabs his toothbrush.
“Dante. I want you to tell me where you heard that.”
“It’s a secret.”
“Dante,” I warn.
“He’ll be mad at me.”
“Who?”
“Troy.”
“Dante, tell me this instant.”
“Fine,” he squeezes paste on his brush and shoves it in his mouth.
“Wheb Trub was little, his dabydy…”
“Son,” I warn, taking the toothbrush out of his hands.
He huffs, spitting out a mouthful of paste. “When Troy was little, his daddy left him all alone with his mommy, and he ate his feelings and got really fat. All the boys in school were mean to him, ‘cause he was a weirdo.”
“What?” It’s like a punch to the stomach.
“But it’s okay, Mommy, because he started running real, real, fast.”
“Really fast,” I correct with my heart beating in my throat.
“He ran until he wasn’t fat, but he was still a weirdo.” Dante points to his chest. “Inside. Like me. Then he found us, so he’s sticking to us.”
I turn away and grab a hand towel, trying to gather myself together. “He said that?” I hand him his toothbrush back.
“He said he knows we’re the only ones that know he’s Bruce Wayne.”
Not Batman, or badass, or any other part of the persona that he’s been fighting against that’s genuinely not him. And it doesn’t matter how many times he tells the world otherwise, or what actions he takes, because of the way he looks, because of his ability to carry a football, he’s placed on a pedestal. A pedestal, he can’t stand.
It’s all I can do to keep from crumpling as his spitting image turns to me.
“Can I pick a story now?”
The next morning, I pour Dante’s cereal at a loss for another excuse when my phone lights up with Troy’s name. It’s like a knife to the chest.
I slide to answer my heartbeat in my throat. “Hey.”
“Hey, can I talk to him?”
“Of course. Can I just ask if you’re okay?”
“Fine. I don’t have much time.”
“Okay.” I feel the shake in my voice as I call Dante. “Baby. Troy’s on the phone.”
Dante runs in, grabbing my cell from my hand.
“Hey, Troy. I saved you some cereal.” Dante rearranges a few magnets on the fridge as Troy speaks. “Sorry. Mommy says I can’t have my phone on until after school.” It’s apparent he didn’t even want to call my number. He doesn’t want to have a thing to do with me. I grip the chair at the kitchen table as I try to absorb that blow.
“You coming over? Oh,” his voice dips in disappointment as does my heart. “Tomorrow then, maybe?” Another pause before Dante glances up at me. “Let me ask. Mommy, can I go with Troy and Nonny tomorrow after school? Please?”
“Sure.”
“She says yes. Uh huh. Okay. Okay. Love you. Bye.”
Dante hands the phone back to me. “Hey.”
He’s already gone.
Troy
“Thanks, Mom,” I tell her as she piles the eggs on my plate. Fresh off the clock, I was about to crash when Mom dragged me into the kitchen. I’d managed to get a few shifts back part-time at UPS after I quit working with Kevin. I’ve been avoiding his calls, along with anyone else that doesn’t have to do with my immediate future. Kevin texted last night asking to meet up, but I didn’t reply. I’m sure part of it was to reach out again and apologize. But I know another part is because the librarian finally crushed his hopes.
I’m still too pissed to talk it out with him. I could have lost my son because of his stupid fucking experiment with something he had no business messing with. I could blame it on the coach and his unrealistic demands, but the simple truth is, he fucked up, like many of us do. And I know more than anyone how lousy timing and shitty circumstances can ruin a person. Ruin lives.
When I cool off, I know I’ll eventually reach out. Kevin would never intentionally or unintentionally hurt Dante. And he deserved a fair shake with that girl, but that’s not real life. In real life, there’s a million other Kevins out there suffering from the same type of unreturned affection. Another first-hand experience I can relate to.
I feel for him, but I can’t handle anything more. At this point, it’s too much. After leaving the house on Ohara, there was no way to get my head straight staying with friends, so I played it safe, burying my head in the books and work after taking my mother up on her offer to use her spare bedroom. The upside is I’ve gotten to know Luis, and he seems to be a great guy.
“Morning,” Luis walks into the kitchen, kissing my mother soundly before clapping a hand on my back. “I guess it’s good night to you?”
“Yeah,” I say as he grabs the lunch my mom’s just readied for him.
“Thanks, baby. See y’all later.”
She sends him off with another kiss, and I can’t help but feel happy for her and take note of the light in her eyes as they follow him out the front door.
“I like him, Mom. I mean that. You deserve to be happy.”
“Thanks, baby. He is pretty amazing, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, he’s cool.”
I shovel more eggs in, thankful it’s a Saturday, and I’ll be able to sleep in a little longer.
Mom hovers next to me, and it’s then I know the offer for breakfast was a ruse.
I look up to where she stands, arms crossed.
“Come on, Mom. I’m exhausted.”
“It’s been weeks. Don’t you think it’s time?”
I sigh, bracing myself. Mom isn’t the type to make the hard parts easier. She’s the type to deal with shit as it comes, and it’s one of the things I’ve always respected her for most, while it still remains one of my biggest weaknesses. I much prefer to think my way around my issues.
And right now, I’m in the midst of full-blown avoidance.
Case in point, after I pick Dante up, Clarissa meets Mom at the door when she comes for him. As immature as it is, I don’t want to see her, which has done shit to ease the sting of missing her.
A part of me is embarrassed for being so vulnerable in front of her, the other is glad I finally stood up for my mangled fucking heart where she is concerned.
Though, no part of this is making my decision and new reality any less shitty. Dante remains confused as to why we aren’t speaking. In hindsight, I realize now why Clarissa was so hesitant to start a relationship. It’s because of our current predicament. Constant excuses as to why things have so drastically changed.
Lately, he’s been reading into every conversation we have, looking for clues, asking questions that I don’t have answers to. At one point, he had some semblance of a family, and with our rift, we’ve ripped it away.
The fucked-up part is with the damage done, the damage she so painstakingly tried to avoid, we never got a real shot at making us work. I could blame it on her selfishness. I could blame myself because I’d shot
her down even when she was ready to admit her mistake and begged me not to let go.
The irony is, though I’ve tried in every way imaginable, I haven’t. I just refuse to admit it. I love her wholly and completely. Even with all the hurt we’ve caused to the other. But I can’t, for the life of me, find the strength to go another round with her. Not now, maybe not ever. Because of the power she holds over me, the carelessness she’s used with my heart, I fear I may never come back the same man.
“I’ll go back soon. When I’m ready.”
“You have to face her, son. Dante is not okay. Yesterday, he asked me if I knew why everybody was so sad. I lied to my grandson. Don’t put me in that position again.”
Suddenly, the eggs aren’t so appetizing and feel like rubber in my mouth.
“Fuck,” I push the plate away and run a hand through my hair. “Sorry, Mom. And I’m sorry you’re having to deal with this. I’m signing soon. I’ll get a place as soon as I get a check.”
“Hey, that’s not it,” she says, taking a seat next to me. “First of all, Luis is happy about having you here. And we have plenty of room.”
“I don’t want to inconvenience you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re my son. There’s no such thing.”
I glance over as she pours me more juice. “I love you.”
“Love you too. And I hate that she broke your heart. But you have to talk to her. You’ve got to push your feelings aside. Dante is scared.”
“I will. Soon. I just need a little more time.”
“Okay.” She shovels more eggs onto my plate.
“Mom, I’m done.”
“The hell you are. Eat.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She looks me over carefully, weighing her words. Her hair is already up, her makeup done. The woman has self-respect in abundance, has always taken care of herself, no matter the circumstances. It’s another habit of hers I find admirable. She’s the definition of a backbone. I feel like hell. I haven’t been sleeping at all, even after upping my workouts to try and pass out.
The Underdogs: The Complete Series Page 54
