The ball was handed off to this boy and now the crowd is yelling and cheering and my pulse pounds. Oz is jogging backward now, encouraging him to continue forward. Both teams sprint alongside Oz and the boy. All of them calling the boy’s name. The kid is pumping his little arms, pushing legs that seem to weigh against him, but he has this utter look of joy that brings tears to my eyes.
I’m on my knees on the blanket, clapping and praying and begging for him not to fall. To finish and to finish strong.
He crosses the line and the sideline explodes into a deafening sound of happiness. My arms are in the air and I’m laughing. Laughing because the kid is laughing. Laughing because Oz is laughing.
Oz picks the boy up and all the kids applaud. Chevy comes up on the other side so that they both carry his weight. Chevy, Oz and the massive crowd of kids begin a victory lap.
“He’s good with kids.” Eli crouches next to me.
“What?” It’s like he started in the middle of the conversation instead of the beginning.
“Oz is good with kids. Always has been.” He gestures to the wheelchair a little farther down. “Especially the ones with disabilities. He has a patience and gentleness most men don’t. That’s why Brian’s parents are here. Oz includes him in the game.”
Brian must be the child with the braces.
“What’s wrong with Brian?” I ask.
“Cerebral palsy.”
“Oh.” Oh.
“How’s it been?” Eli asks.
“Good.” I watch the party on the field, wishing that I was part of the celebration. “How was your business stuff?”
“Good,” he answers.
Eli’s been gone for two weeks and it’s odd seeing him, but it shouldn’t be. This is his hometown, not mine. I’ve settled into a weird but comfortable routine with Oz and Olivia and have even gotten used to Eli texting me to confirm I haven’t dashed back to Florida yet.
In the parking lot a herd of guys in black leather vests hang out near a gaggle of motorcycles. “Do you ever travel alone?”
“Yeah,” he says. “But you and I have a shopping date and I’ll feel better doing it with some backup. What do you think of heading to Nashville and letting me buy you some clothes that don’t encourage me to tear the eyes out of every man here?”
I laugh and it surprises me. By the way Eli’s grin grows it must have surprised him, as well. I pick at the grass in front of me. “Isn’t Louisville closer?”
“Nashville’s a hell of a town. There’s a bar on the strip that serves a great pulled pork sandwich.”
I detest pork, but Eli means well so I keep my food preferences to myself. “You don’t have to do that, you know. I get that when you visit Florida shopping is a way to fill the time together, but I’m here so you don’t have to spend money on me.”
Eli pulls at his earlobe. “I haven’t been much of a man in your life and taking you shopping doesn’t make up for not being there, but I want to do this for you.”
As I sort through the grass, I spot some clover and pretend I’m interested in it. I don’t know what to say or do. Eli entered my life seven years ago and never has he said anything so real and raw. It freaks me out and creates an ache I don’t understand.
Why couldn’t he have said that seven years ago? Or maybe seventeen years ago or whenever my mom was on the verge of leaving?
“Hate to admit it, but I’ve spent a good portion of your life wondering what to buy you for Christmas or your birthday, but I never get you anything because I don’t know you well enough to purchase anything that would mean shit. So this, taking you shopping, it’s all I have to give and I’d appreciate it if you’d let me do it.”
I peek at him out of the corner of my eye and the expectation on his face absolutely hurts. “Okay.”
His good mood seems to return. “Okay.”
“Hey, Eli.” Oz approaches us and both Eli and I stand. They share a fist bump and Oz and I share a loaded glance that causes my skin to tingle.
“I’m going to take some of the crew I left behind and go to Nashville with Emily for the night,” says Eli. “We’ll be back tomorrow.”
I pop my mouth open to protest an overnight trip, but Eli’s already shaking his head. “You agreed.”
I shut my mouth. I did, but not to him spending money on a hotel room.
Oz spins the football in his hands as his eyes flicker between us. “Do you want me in on this?”
“No. You can take a few days off.”
Chevy calls Oz’s name and Oz tosses the football to me. “Stay here, will you, Emily? I need to ask you something.”
Oz walks off without waiting for my response and I expect the two of them to head over to the two girls circling near us like the little vultures they are. He talked to them during halftime and I’m going to pretend that every single second of those five minutes didn’t bother me.
I roll the football, trying to figure out why he gave it to me and why he asked me to stay. Eli raises an eyebrow and it’s freaky because I did, too. I force mine down, wondering if Eli noticed. Eli excuses himself to discuss plans with someone in the parking lot.
“Hey!” Violet’s red hair is pulled up and little wisps frame her face.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“You see that?” She points to a guy on the football field across from ours. He’s tall, has blond hair, is broad-shouldered and, after hanging out with the Terror for the past week, appears very, very normal.
“Yeah?”
“That’s Jared and he’s going to be my ride tonight.” The way she emphasized ride makes my cheeks blush. “Have you considered my offer? Jared has a friend.”
She waggles her eyebrows at friend and I have to clear my throat so I can breathe.
Violet and I talk on the phone. She digs for info on my life in Florida and fills me in on her adventures in Snowflake, which includes a lot of parties with a lot of people who sound a million times more dangerous than anything I’ve experienced while being at Olivia’s.
“I’m telling you, if you go to bed early, I bet you could slip out through the kitchen and hang with me for the night and then I’ll have you back before anyone notices.”
She wants me to go to a party with her and, well...lying isn’t my style. I texted Eli for permission to go and I was greeted with a firm: hell, no.
“Why don’t you come to Olivia’s and hang out?” I ask.
“They’re getting to you, aren’t they?”
A pshaw sound leaves my mouth because they so aren’t, but then my eyes automatically trail over to Oz and he’s speaking to them. Oh my freaking God, he’s speaking to those girls again.
“Emily!” Violet slips into my line of vision. “What did I tell you? They are pretty looking, but they’re full of hurt.”
I sweep my hair away from my forehead and try not to let it bother me that the girl with the overly large chest touched Oz’s arm. “What happened between you and Chevy?”
A shadow crosses her face. “The club is what happened to Chevy and the club is what’s happening to Oz. They can act nice and sweet, but they’re dogs. Mark my words on this.”
My stomach bottoms out. “Did he cheat on you?”
“Yeah,” she says. “But not in the way that you think. He said he loved me and then...when it counted he didn’t love me.”
Violet presses a hand to her stomach in a way that causes me to take her other hand. She’s in pain and I wish I could remove the part that aches.
“Violet?” The soft way Chevy said her name startles me more than his sudden appearance. “Are you okay?”
Her blue eyes snap to his and there’s no mistaking the absolute sadness there. They stare at each other. One second. Two. As we wander into three I feel like an intruder in a very intimate yet
electrically charged moment.
“Violet!” Jared cups his hands to his mouth to get her attention. “Let’s go.”
Chevy’s eyes briefly close and when he reopens him, the breath is knocked out of me by the hurt haunting him. “Don’t do it. I am begging you to not do this.”
Violet’s spine straightens as she lifts her chin. “Just like I asked you not to do what you did.”
She walks away, slamming her shoulder into his arm, and Chevy remains still, focusing on the ground as if nothing else around him exists.
Oz swipes the football I had forgotten I held and presses it to Chevy’s chest. “Everything’s in order. Why don’t you go and get the kids together.”
It takes a few seconds, but Chevy accepts the ball and heads onto the field.
“That was comfortable,” I say.
“You get to leave Snowflake.” Oz watches his best friend, my cousin, round up some kids. “I get to live with it for the rest of my life.”
“Super.” Because what else do you say? “I stayed, so what do you need?”
“Well.” He studies me in a way that makes me feel like he’s seen me with my clothes off. “I have a boy in a wheelchair who asked if he gets a kiss on the cheek from the prettiest girl here since he scored a touchdown.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Did the two girls drooling over you refuse?”
Oz cracks this smile that makes me love and hate him. “I said pretty, Emily. You’re the only girl around here who fits that description. Are you in or what?”
“Yeah,” I say, as I secretly dance within. “I’m in.”
Oz
I LEAN DOWN and I’m eye to eye with one of the craziest sons-of-bitches on the planet. Sweat drenches my T-shirt thanks to the muggy night. Razor’s jaw swells from the last play and my hand throbs from a hit I took from him a few series back. Blood drips from each scrape on my body and I chuckle when he wipes at the small trickle of red at the corner of his mouth.
A sharp gust rushes through the trees of the forest surrounding the property, bringing with it the smell of honeysuckle. The branches bend and the leaves flip back to show their white underbelly. A few stars twinkle overhead through the racing clouds, but the wind warns of an impending storm.
Razor’s golden-blond hair falls over his eyes and being on the opposite side of the line from him would cause most men to shiver. A slow sadistic grin promising pain slides across his face. “You think you can handle me, Oz?”
“I think you’re all talk.” I think Razor could easily slit my throat with that knife strapped to his leg, and he wouldn’t shed a single tear as he witnessed me bleed out. Because we’ve been close since we were kids, I gamble that he’ll keep his knife and his impulsive tendencies to himself.
“I’m man enough to take you down,” he taunts.
“Nah,” I answer. “I don’t think you are.”
His insane smile widens. “Know what happened when I used to walk into the shower in the locker room at school?”
Knowing he’s a crazy bastard, guys tripped over themselves to get the hell out of his way. “What?”
He winks. “They took one look at me and applauded.”
I snort and when Chevy calls the snap, I have to switch gears and throw myself at Razor to stop him from tackling my best friend before Chevy throws the ball.
“Touchdown!” Chevy calls, but Razor rages forward. I dig my feet into the ground, determined not to allow him an inch. With muscles locked tight, I break through his arms and push off his chest, causing him to stumble.
Razor’s eyes glaze over and he’s a bull seeing red. His arm swings back with a ready-made fist. Not noticing how Razor just lost his shit, Chevy slips between us. I grab Chevy and toss him to the side and yell, “Chevy said touchdown, bitch.”
Razor blinks, and the horror mirrored there as he realizes he was two seconds from pile driving me and Chevy causes me to ache for my longtime friend.
Chevy offers Razor his fist and with a deep breath Razor shakes off Mr. Hyde for Dr. Jekyll.
Regret deepens the already constant pain in Razor’s eyes and instead of bumping Chevy’s fist, he holds out his hand for a shake. Chevy accepts and the two end up in a brief half hug. Razor’s haunted by a hurt too deep to understand. His mother messed him up in ways that none of us can begin to know how to heal, and because of that, we’ll always have his back.
When they let go, Razor nods at me. I nod back. The all clear that we’re good.
Razor picks up the football, taps Stone on the back and pitches the ball in the air. “Let’s work on your catching.”
Stone reaches out his hands and the ball soars straight through. Chevy turns his head to hide the wince. I school my expression but internally feel the pain. Olivia used to read a book to me when I was a kid about a lion that was a late bloomer. I sure as hell hope that fifteen will be Stone’s bloom year because, for him, fourteen ain’t doing shit.
Not missing a beat, Razor swipes the ball and leads Stone away from the guys shooting the breeze. A few light cigarettes and laugh loudly. Everyone’s roughed up and bleeding. The game’s more tackle than two-hand touch and that’s the way we like it.
We’re in the large grassy area between Olivia’s house and the clubhouse. Thanks to the utility poles, we can play football all night and typically we do, but this summer, my ass has been on Emily patrol.
I lift my shirt and remove the blood from my lip and when I glance over to the porch to check on Emily, she quickly looks away and slides that long dark hair forward like a shield. She’s playing cards with Olivia on the porch and even though she’s dealing, I will her to peek at me one more time.
Eli’s gone again and so is most of the club as they’ve been traveling for the business. He was here for a few days and was stuck to Emily’s side and now he’s on the road and I’m back on duty.
Everyone was banned from here when Eli was away the first time. Now, with him gone again, anyone who is a brother is allowed to come and go, but there’s no partying, no old ladies, no friends of the club, no hang-arounds and above all, no strangers.
All of it is to protect Emily. The slow introduction, according to Eli, is to desensitize her to the way things really work around here.
Chevy kicks at the back of my knee and I sock him in the shoulder. “What was that for?”
“For staring at Emily like you’re three seconds away from showing her the back of the clubhouse and sharing dirty secrets. You do that with Eli around and you can forget making prospect. He’ll put a bullet in your brain.” He mimics his finger as the gun, pulls the mock trigger, then stumbles with the imagined impact.
I shrug even though I know he’s right. “She’s hot.”
“That’s sick. She’s my cousin.”
I don’t mention how Violet was like a sister to me and how Chevy buying condoms six months ago when he was solid with her made me want to vomit. If he didn’t love her, I would have torn out his jugular.
Chevy flicks his chin to where Razor’s showing Stone how to hold his hands together for a catch. “Ever wonder if we’ll get a text from him telling us that we need to help hide a body?”
“Yeah.” Not if. At this rate, with his temper, it’ll be a when. “I kissed her.”
Chevy drops his head. “When?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I look over at the porch again. Emily lays down her cards and smiles at Olivia. Fucking smiles. The type that brightens her face. The one that she doesn’t do often. The one that she’s given me more than a few times. The one I crave for her to give me again and again. The one I see in my dreams as she’s crawling up the bed half-naked to kiss me.
God, there’s something wrong with me.
“We kissed at the clubhouse in Lanesville.” I withhold the part where she blackmailed me. I’ve gotta own
some pride. “I thought she was leaving.”
“Why are you telling me?” he asks.
I meet his eyes and he shakes his head in pissed-off understanding. I’m telling him because someone knowing I made a mistake will prevent me from doing it again.
“You’re messed up,” Chevy says. “You know that, right?”
“Yeah. I do.”
“You want me to snag some girls again? Maybe that will help.”
It helps him with Violet. He gets buzzed and loses himself in someone else. He did it two weeks ago with the girl we met up with after the peewee football game. But me? The girl I was with wanted sex. Pretty much asked me to fuck her in several languages, but I ended up taking her home. I couldn’t stop comparing her to Emily.
Pigpen strides up to us. “Are we going another round?”
Over on the porch, Olivia laughs and rolls her head against the Adirondack chair to appraise her granddaughter. Emily watches her for a second, then gathers the cards and picks up two glasses as she stands. Good girl for reading the signs of Olivia’s exhaustion.
The games are over for tonight.
“Tell everyone to pack it in. Olivia’s heading to bed.” Which means Emily will be following soon and my next phase of protecting her begins.
Emily
TRISHA: ELI STILL GONE?
Me: Yep. His job requires him to travel a lot. You should have seen Oz and his friends play football tonight. It was full-on tackle. No pads. Definition of insanity.
After I brought Olivia inside, almost everyone tore off on their bikes, and it’s left the house very quiet and very lonely. It’s moments like this that I appreciate that Trisha never sleeps. She’s one of those people who thrive off four hours of sleep and copious amounts of coffee in the morning.
Trisha: You talk about this Oz guy a lot. Are you sure nothing is going on with you two?
Me: Nothing. There is nothing going on between us.
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