Crush

by West, Heather

  He kept his word.

  By the end of the day, I’d heard about how that jerk had gotten into a fight with Danny. He made a formal apology the following day and by the end of the week, he’d left the team. When I asked Danny if they didn’t need them for their big game—a rival game with the Hamilton school—Danny had only smiled at me and said that they didn’t need assholes like that to carry them. He’d play both their positions if he had to. I’d laughed at that; it was impossible to do that.

  It was kind of trivial, I thought now, but at the time, it had been a huge deal. I didn’t want people thinking I’d slept around with the first jerk who’d asked—and I had someone else I’d really wanted in the first place—but it had only been a rumor. And it was even dumber because by the end of my junior year of high school I’d had sex for the first time. It hadn’t been with who I’d wanted, but it had been inevitable.

  It was hard to want someone you could never have.

  “Danny always was big man on campus, wasn’t he?” dad commented, bringing me back to the here and now.

  Smiling, I nodded. “Yes, he was.”

  We arrived home after just under an hour. I was exhausted after flying all the way from New York—not to mention the three-hour layover in Chicago—but part of me felt good to just be home, even under such terrible circumstances. I shouldn’t have waited for the death of Selene to visit and it still ate away at me that I hadn’t come back sooner.

  I should have spent more time with her.

  Grabbing my backpack and letting my dad get my duffle bag from the car, knowing he’d insist no matter my protests, I headed up the familiar walkway towards the large house. Dad unlocked the door for me and we headed inside.

  The place hadn’t changed much since my high school years, I noticed. It was still the same two story house with the huge tiled kitchen with the granite counter tops and the step down living room with the old fireplace that still got used at least once a year at Christmas time. The walls were the same off-white, eggshell coloring with the soft mossy green trim that contrasted with the front door and the hardwood floors that made you feel like you were walking through a forest. The décor in the kitchen was still modern, with the matching stainless steel appliances while the rest of the house had that warm rustic feel.

  I wondered if they’d converted my room into something useful yet. I hadn’t been back in at least a year now.

  “You can sleep in your old room,” dad told me with a smile. He seemed so happy just to have me back in the house. “I aired out the room and washed the bedding, so you’ll have a fresh place to stay tonight for sure. If you need to do any laundry, you just let me know.”

  I smiled wryly at my dad. “I can do my own laundry, dad,” I told him seriously. “I’ve been on my own for a few years now. And I even fold things.”

  I didn’t mention that the laundry facilities were two blocks down the road and cost an arm and a leg. Nor did I tell him that the place had those fluorescent lights that were always on the verge of going out and that the general feel of the laundromat was incredibly seedy. The place had a tendency to fill with junkies and god knew what else in the area. Even criminals had laundry to do.

  There were a lot of things I didn’t tell dad about my stay in New York. I knew how much he worried already just knowing how far away from home I was. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that his daughter lived in a run-down little apartment working at a bar until the wee hours of the morning just to make ends meet. He’d freak out. And then he’d try to get me to move, at the very least to someplace nice—more likely back home with him—and my dreams of making it in New York would be shattered.

  I just couldn’t have that.

  “I know sweetheart,” he told me, smiling fondly the way that dads do. “I just want you to be comfortable while you’re here.”

  Putting a hand on his shoulder, I said earnestly, “I always am, Dad. This place has always been home and that will never change, no matter where I move.”

  We embraced then, me hugging him tightly as I momentarily pressed my eyes closed. For a minute, I thought how nice it would be to be back home permanently. To go back to high school and let someone else take care of me, my only worries being boys and grades.

  It was so easy back then.

  But we broke away and I accepted that this little stay was not about someone taking care of me. I was here to help my dad through a hard time. Taking the duffle bag from him, I can’t help a yawn. “Sorry, Dad. It’s been a long day. If it’s alright with you, I’m going to go upstairs and get settled.”

  Dad nodded at me, letting me take my bag. “Sure thing, honey. You get settled. Danny should be off soon and I’ll whip up some dinner for us. If you’re up, you come on down for dinner. If not, I’ll set something aside for you and you go ahead and heat it up whenever you get up. Tomorrow, we’ll start dealing with things.”

  I knew that dealing with things meant everything with Selene. Her funeral would be the next day and I didn’t think any of us were ready for that. Part of me wanted to stay downstairs with my dad, to wait for Danny and help with dinner, but I was just so exhausted. I really needed to get my stuff upstairs and take a moment to get cleaned up at least.

  So I told him that it sounded like a plan and headed upstairs to my old room.

  To the far right at the very end was the master bedroom, my dad’s room. At the opposite end was my room. It was over the garage and had a window that face the side yard. Our house was set up like the houses in old movies where you were close enough to your neighbor that you could string two cans together between your windows and play telephone. I had never been that close to my neighbors, of course, mostly because they had been in their mid-seventies at the time and had since passed on. Now a new family lived there and I was pretty sure that an eight-year-old girl occupied that room.

  Between the two rooms was the bathroom on the left side of the hall and a third bedroom. Danny’s. The door to it was closed and I couldn’t help but wonder if he still had a room here. Was it the same as it had been in high school? What had changed since I’d left? Since he’d left?

  Biting my lip, I stood at the top of the stairs, staring at that door for a long time thinking back on the years I spent in this house. They’d been some of the best of my life. They’d also been some of the hardest.

  Shaking my head to clear out the cobwebs and the memories that tried to surface, I forced myself to look away from the door and moved back down the hall to my room. There was still the little foam stickers I’d put on the door to spell out my name in a multitude of brightly colored block letters.

  Ashley.

  Smiling a little and shaking my head at the same time—how silly I’d been—I pushed open my door and stepped inside, flipping on the light switch. For a moment, I was surprised. Nothing had changed. The room was exactly as I’d left it.

  The window was open from when dad had aired the place out and he was right, it smelled like fresh air and clean linen.

  My vanity was off to the side, white with one of those round mirrors on it. I’d taped a purple bow to the top of the mirror and it still hung down crookedly. Pictures of my high school friends were taped along the sides, filling up half of the space on the mirror. I walked over to it, dropping my duffle bag onto the floor as I did and looked over those pictures.

  Some were of mom, my real mom, and me smiling widely. I was missing a couple of teeth in most of them. There were a couple of Cindy and me, who had been my best friend since seventh grade. She’d gone to college and joined a sorority; we’d since fallen out of touch.

  Reaching out, I picked up the picture that had always been my favorite; Danny and me. It was from just a few days after he’d graduated high school. He’d gotten a scholarship to go play for Ohio State and it had been a pretty big deal, but I remember just being grateful that he was going to stay pretty close to home. A couple of hours’ drive wasn’t nearly as bad as a couple of days.

  Staring down at
the picture, I traced his features with my eyes. He was so handsome in the picture, he always had been. He had broad shoulders and strong biceps, prominent in the picture because his arm was thrown around me. His jaw was square and he’d only just started growing a hint of stubble at eighteen, though he started shaving fairly early I thought. His dark brown hair was thick and hung loosely about his face, not too long, looking like he’d spent the last few minutes just running his hands through it. And his eyes. Deep, brown, and sparkling with some kind of secret or mischief.

  He was smiling in the picture wide enough to see his pearly white teeth and his dimples, making him look years younger while his stubble tried to make him look older.

  That had been a good day, I remembered. It was officially summer and Danny was already tan, while I was looking a little bit closer to pink. We were taking a family trip to the zoo because I’d begged Danny to do it with us before he took a brief, week-long road trip with a couple of his friends to go and see the college campus—again. He’d caved because it was me, and we’d spent the day running around and being goofy like stupid kids.

  Shaking my head a little, I yawned again and put the picture back, making sure it stuck on the mirror. I turned away and headed to my bed.

  I nearly burst into laughter when I caught sight of it; a canopy bed, white to match my dresser, and it had lavender and purple accents everywhere. Bows and embroidered flowers and everything. The duvet was thick and lavender, too, and I knew the sheets beneath were a deep royal purple. There were, at least, half a dozen pillows tossed haphazardly at the head of the bed.

  Sighing, I rolled my eyes at myself. I’d been such a girly girl all those years ago.

  Falling back on my bed, exhausted, I felt my eyes getting heavy before I even thought to do much of anything. I managed to kick off my shoes and pull my hair down from its messy bun, and that was it. I was out within minutes.

  Chapter Two

  I pulled my car into the driveway behind dad, turning down the music as I did. The blaring beats had been comfortable up to this point, but now I was here and there was no avoiding why. Mom was dead.

  Even thinking it made me feel like someone was yanking at my heart, trying to jerk it out of my chest. Not a good feeling.

  Running a hand through my dark hair, I took a steadying breath. Then I turned off the car. Time to face the music, I thought, but I still sat in the car for a long time after it was off. Maybe I’d have stayed there all damn night if I hadn’t noticed something upstairs looked unusual.

  The light in Ashley’s room was on.

  Something quick and heady made a quick race through my body, making me shudder as I remembered that not everything that happened was terrible. Ashley was home. I hadn’t seen her in what felt like a fucking lifetime.

  Reaching over, I grabbed the bottle of bourbon I’d set down in the passenger seat and took a deep breath. Steeling myself for the night—and the blatant misery that was going to be the morning—I popped open the car door and stepped out into the driveway. I slammed the door shut and hit the key fob, listening to the annoying chirp that signaled that my car was locked.

  Oh, joy.

  Heading up the walkway like I’d done ten thousand times before, I knocked on the door once. I didn’t want for anyone to come and answer the door for me—dad knew I was coming and no one was going to be upset that I’d just walked in. I headed inside, calling out for my dad and Ashley.

  “Dad? Ashley?” Even her fucking name was like sucking on hard cinnamon candy; sweet, hot, and dissolved in your mouth.

  “In the kitchen, Danny,” I heard dad call back. His voice came from the right; Ashley didn’t answer at all.

  I made a beeline for the kitchen and found dad digging through the fridge. Cupboards were open everywhere and food was sitting out on the counters unceremoniously waiting for their doom. My brow furrowed briefly in worry; I knew dad wasn’t taking this so well.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, trying to sound calm as opposed to like I was talking to someone who belonged in the looney bin.

  Dad pulled himself out of the fridge holding a carton of eggs and what looked like either heavy whipping cream or eggnog. I really hoped it wasn’t eggnog. When I saw dad’s face, it broke my heart all over again. I saw the expression of a man who was lost, going through the motions, but not really knowing what those motions were supposed to be anymore. He was eaten up by grief, but he was so far gone that he was numb.

  I could tell that he didn’t know what to do with himself anymore.

  “Why don’t you put the eggs down?” I suggested mildly, taking the cream—it was heavy whipping cream, not eggnog—and putting it back into the fridge where it belonged. “Sit down, instead. Let’s have a drink.” I waved the bottle a little to emphasize my point and it made dad smile a little.

  He nodded. “I think that sounds like a good idea.”

  I headed over to the kitchen table, just big enough for four people to sit at—I tried not to think that it only needed to be big enough for three now—and put the bottle of bourbon down. “Grab me a couple of glasses?” I asked dad who was looking around at the stuff set out on the counters like he wasn’t sure what to do about it.

  Sending me a quick, reassuring smile—which didn’t work—he pulled out a few glasses from the cupboard. Three, actually. I frowned in confusion at the third glass. “Someone else drinking with us?” I asked, trying to temper the hopeful feeling that suddenly swelled up in my chest. What the hell was wrong with me anyway?

  Dad shrugged. “Never know. Your sister—” I cringed as he said that, “—is upstairs right now getting settled, but she might come down a little later.”

  Clearing my throat, I tried to sound calm, but happy at her being home. “That would be nice.”

  “It’s good to have her back,” dad said sounding a little wistful. “It’s nice to have both of you here now.”

  I nodded. I wasn’t here here. I had my own place, but playing for the team here meant I got to be a lot closer to home, living here in town. I had a place in the city, not the suburbs where my dad lived, but it was a pretty quick drive and meant that I could pop in on them—him I corrected myself, remembering that I was down a very important parent—once in a while.

  The memory of my mother and the loss of her swelled suddenly in my chest and I felt like I was going to choke on it. Tears pricked at my eyes and I brushed them away furiously, rubbing at my eyes before they even had a chance to fall. I wasn’t interested in crying anymore, damn it.

  “Yeah, Ash has been gone a while, hasn’t she?” I said because I couldn’t think about mom.

  Dad nodded. “She has. It’s her dream, I know, but I’ve missed her. I wish her dream could have kept her a little closer to home. Like you.”

  I’d thought the same thing a time or two. New York City was a long way from Ohio any way you sliced it and while I could afford to fly out there now—one of the perks of being an NFL player—I didn’t. It wasn’t that I hadn’t thought about it. There were more than a few dreams I’d have of doing something crazy and probably stupid, but the thing was she never invited me. I knew it was probably that she was just so damn busy all the time, but it still hurt a little bit.

  Once or twice I was about an hour away from just surprising her out of the blue, but I always chickened out before I actually got there. It was stupid; I was stupid.

  “Well, we can’t all be NFL linebackers,” I told him jokingly. “Though I’m sure the pants would look great on her and I hear shoulder pads are back in style now.”

  Dad laughed out loud at that and I considered it a victory. I had to imagine that he wasn’t doing a whole lot of laughing lately, so if I could get him to do it even a little bit, it was a win in my book.

  “That is true. My baby would look good in anything.”

  That was the damn truth, wasn’t it?

  “How’s she been?” I asked, unscrewing the cap to the bourbon. It was high time we got started.

&nb
sp; “She looks good,” dad told me seriously. “Healthy. She’s upset, of course. She feels terrible about…” He trailed off, unable to say mom’s name just yet. I thought maybe it would be a long time before any of us felt alright again. “But otherwise, she looks happy. I think New York has been good for her.”

  I poured each of us a glass. Raising mine and holding it in the air until he mimicked me, I said, “To mom. We were the two luckiest damn men to have had her as long as we did.”

  “To Selene.”

  We each downed our drink in a quick gulp. I felt it burn down my throat warming my cheeks and the cavity of my chest almost instantly. It took a moment where all I could taste was the alcohol, but that passed quickly and the taste of oak and burnt toast lingered on my tongue. I poured us each another shot, but this time, we didn’t toast and we didn’t down it. I sipped at mine and for a moment, dad only stared at his. I could taste the caramel flavoring that matched the amber colored liquid and that bit of charred flavor that reminded me of cool nights by the fire toasting hot dogs and marshmallows.