A God in Carver (Carver High #1)

by Haven Francis

  It takes me a minute to recover. My heart is pounding from the intensity of all of the realizations I just came to and the panic over the fact that I just shared them with someone. But she’s acting like it’s no big deal. Like it’s… normal. I take a couple breaths and bring myself back to reality. “No, that’s not gonna happen. Especially not after the fight we got into tonight. He’s gonna be a hundred times worse when I go home.”

  “So don’t go home.”

  I wait for her to laugh, but she doesn’t. “I have to go home.”

  “How come?”

  I stare at her as I try to come up with an answer to that question.

  When it’s clear I don’t have one she says, “It sounds like you could probably use a little break. I bet if you stayed away for a few days he might realize how important you are to him. It might even dawn on him that you have other options. That you don’t have to stay in that house and be his perfect son. He might realize his mistakes and maybe even see how great you are.”

  “You’re good to go, Tatum,” Nick yells out after closing to hood of her truck loudly.

  “Yeah, no thanks to you,” Nate adds.

  “Fuck off,” she says to Nate before telling Nick, “Thank you.”

  Nash comes over to us and says, “Since I don’t have to keep my body in perfect form for Friday night’s game, I say the three of us go drink our problems away.”

  “That sounds like an excellent plan,” I tell him, “but I have a whole new team I have to get ready for Friday thanks to your selfish ass.” I hop down from the work bench and push my hands into his shoulders, but it comes off to hard and he stumbles backwards.

  “You don’t have to be pissed at me because Coach made a stupid decision,” he says, recovering and taking a step towards me.

  I smile at him, trying to assure him I wasn’t trying to start shit with him. “He didn’t have a choice. It doesn’t really matter now. You should enjoy your week off but I gotta go bond with your replacement and try to teach him the plays.”

  “I should go too. I have homework,” Tatum says.

  “I think you owe me some kind of payment for fixing your truck,” he says, forgetting about me and wrapping her in his arms and kissing her.

  She pushes him off her and says, “I think you should let Brandon sleep in your bed tonight. He needs somewhere to stay. And if you were a decent friend you would go with and help deal with the problem you created.”

  He stares at her for a moment then says, “Damn. Why do you always have to be right?”

  She gives him a quick kiss than slips out of his arms. “I’ll see you boys in the morning.”

  Nash turns to me and says, “Okay, roomie, let’s go kick those kid’s asses.”

  18

  I figured after the bomb coach dropped on me on Saturday and the way things went down with Roger on Sunday that this week was gonna be about as crappy as they come but it hasn’t been. Not at all. I should be stressing more about Friday’s game but the longer I stay away from Roger the easier it is to not give a shit. And hell, I’m actually enjoying staying with the Carter boys. Even if I’m living off of hotdogs and microwave dinners and sleeping on a couch.

  “Good morning,” Tatum says, coming to the breakfast bar and taking a seat by me. If I’m being honest with myself, Tatum is another reason this week doesn’t suck. I didn’t realize how much I missed her friendship. I forgot how easy she is to talk to. “I must have fallen asleep on the couch last night?” She folds her arms on the counter and rests her head on top of them, closing her eyes. The sight makes me smile. It’s always taken her a while to fully wake in the mornings. I can picture her as a little girl doing this same thing when she would come over to my house in order to get a hot breakfast.

  “Yeah. I carried you into his bed a little after midnight,” I tell her, rubbing her back.

  “Umm,” she mutters. “That feels good. I could go back to sleep right here.”

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I’m pretty sure you’re resting on a piece of week old pizza.”

  She’s instantly upright, looking down at the dirty counter. “Jesus, these boys are such pigs. I can’t believe I slept in his bed last night. Next time I fall asleep just put me in my truck.”

  “Next time I’ll just drive you home,” I assure her. Last night Nash took two of my second string players to the local dive bar after our evening of running plays in the backyard and wasn’t here when Tatum showed up after work. I contemplated waking her and bringing her home, but Tatum had taken refuge in the Carter house just like me because Trish had her asshole ex-boyfriend over. I couldn’t bring her back there. And I didn’t want to wake her. The sight and sound of her sleeping soundly on the couch next to me was about the most peaceful thing I had experienced all week.

  “I hope you got your tetanus shot before taking up residence on that couch.” A shiver runs through her body and I get it. The thing is disgusting but I don’t mind.

  “I used to spend all kinds of nights here after we moved and before I started playing for Coach Mason. Maybe I’m immune to it now.”

  “What are you talking about… eighth grade? You used to spend the night here?”

  “Yeah. All the time. I used to come here and get wasted… mostly because I was upset about you which was stupid because your relationship with him was the reason I was upset. But, you know, Nick would let us drink. It would help me forget. I would pass out here… on that couch.”

  “He never told me that.”

  “No?”

  “Nuh uh,” she mutters. “Roger didn’t mind?”

  “There were a few years when he was growing his business that he wasn’t really around.” I laugh at that memory. “I remember being mad at him for being gone all the time but, damn, I guess those were the good days. My one year reprieve. After my dad and before Coach Mason started working with me and all the talk about me being a star quarterback started.”

  “You and I should get drunk sometime,” she tells me, seriously. “But not here. Somewhere where there are clean sheets we can pass out on.”

  “It’s a date. As soon as the season’s over.”

  She laughs as she stares at me. “I just realized, I’ve never seen you drunk.”

  I reach out and grab the top of her thigh, pinching the spot that I know is ticklish. “Is that funny?”

  The sound that escapes her is a cross between a laugh and a scream. “Stop.” She tries to push me off of her and after a few seconds of torturing her I move on my own. “You know how much I hate that you jerk,” she says, punching her fist into my shoulder.

  “I couldn’t help it. You have the best laugh and I never get to hear it.”

  She shrugs her shoulders. “It’s my M.O. I’m the bitch. I don’t laugh at things.”

  “I hate to break it to you, Tate, but you’re no longer the bitch. You’re one of us now. Part of the in-crowd,” I say with unintentional bitterness in my voice.

  “Yeah, I guess I am. How the hell did I end up here?”

  “I guess it’s just what happens when you become Nash Carter’s girlfriend.”

  “It’s partially Nash’s fault, but it’s yours too.”

  “Mine?”

  “Yeah. After that night you and Summer came over I kind of wanted to have friends again. Maybe not friends, but I wanted you and Summer back in my life. Plus, don’t tell anyone this, but I never really hated football. I kind of like it actually.”

  I smile at her. “Life’s good, huh?”

  “Yeah, I guess it is.”

  “You should laugh more then. I miss the sound.”

  She sits up and faces me, her inquisitive eyes boring into mine. “Did I used to laugh a lot?”

  I reach out and brush back a chunk of her hair that’s fallen over her eye, obstructing my view. I can’t seem to remove my hand, it lingers behind her ear. “My dad used to call you chuckles. You laughed all the time. It was a little annoying.”

  A sad smile crosses h
er face before she looks down at her lap for a moment before standing. My hand falls away from her. “I need to go home and get changed before school. I woke Nash but he wasn’t too keen on moving and I don’t have the mental strength to talk sense into his incoherent ass this morning.”

  “Don’t worry. I got it.”

  She stares at me, her body mere inches from mine. She moves robotically as she leans forward and gives me an awkward hug. I laugh at the uncomfortableness between us while standing and wrapping both of my arms completely around her, holding her until she returns the embrace. “It’s just me, Tate. Things don’t have to be weird.”

  She exhales a warm breath into my t-shirt and hugs me a little tighter. She holds me for a moment before letting go, turning abruptly and walking out of the house with nothing more than a wave of her hand.

  After our regular practice I dragged all my temporary starters back to the Carter place again so we could keep running the plays. Partially because they need it but also because it seems to be good for Nash to still have some responsibility as far as the team goes. It also interrupts his drinking for a few hours and after having to literally drag his ass into the shower this morning I’m trying to come up with a plan to avoid hung-over Carter.

  We walked into the house a couple seconds ago and he’s already got a beer cracked. “If I don’t get to drink, then I don’t think you should get to either. You’re living my life this week,” I tell him.

  “I’d do just about anything for you, Eastman, but giving up my beer isn’t one of those things. And since you’re the one sleeping on my couch, I’m pretty sure it’s you who’s living my life.”

  “You should listen to him, kid. Take a week off, it won’t kill you. I like having you around, Brandon. You’re a good influence on this numbskull,” Nick says, wrapping his elbow around Nash’s neck, pretending to strangle him.

  “Personally, I say you can go any time you like. I would like my couch back and I’m tired of all those kids living in our backyard. Although I like it when you bring your girl around. Damn, is she sweet. I could stare at that smile of hers all day long,” Nate says with a dreamy look in his eyes.

  Nash laughs. “Summer’s going to Penn State. That’s Ivy League, asshole. I don’t think you’re her type.”

  “You know, I’ve been watching those little practices you guys are running in the backyard. That kid, Lawson, he’s good. Real good. I wouldn’t be surprised if you don’t make it back into the starting line up,” Nate says, just to piss him off.

  “That’s true,” Nick agrees. “All those kids are looking pretty good. Maybe you’ll think twice before missing another practice because you’re hung-over.”

  “Jesus, fine, I get it,” Nash complains, standing up and walking to the kitchen and pouring his beer down the sink. “There. You happy?”

  “Beer’s not free, asshole,” Nate says, but he’s smiling at his little brother.

  “Does that mean you’re actually gonna stay in tonight?”

  “Sure. Why not? Get another few hours of bonding time in with you because, God knows, I haven’t had enough. Should we pop some popcorn, rent a movie and call up the girls?” Nash asks, facetiously.

  “It’s Wednesday. Summer will be at church until eight and then I’m sure she’ll have homework she’s gotta finish up. But yeah, call Tatum up.”

  He smirks at me. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re still in love with her.”

  I shrug my shoulders. “Maybe I am. You scared of a little competition?”

  “Please. From you? You would bore the shit out of her with your goodie-two-shoes ways.”

  “Lucky for you I’m in love with someone else. I like having Tatum around though. It’s good to have my friend back.”

  “That’s really sweet, Eastman. Best friends forever, huh?”

  I take out my phone and dial her number. “Yep. You don’t mind if I have my best friend over, do you Nick?” I ask, distracting him from the car race he and Nate are glued to on the TV.

  “Sure,” he mumbles.

  “Hey, Brandon. What’s going on?” Tatum asks when she picks up the phone.

  “Not much, just hanging out at Carter’s house, bored off my ass. You want to come by after work and watch a movie with me?”

  “Um… sure? Where’s Nash.”

  “He’s here now but knowing him he’ll find some party to head to before you get here.”

  He snatches the phone out of my hand and laughs at me, but the glare he’s giving me is telling me he actually is threatened by my relationship with Tatum. For a few days when I was going through my crisis and was unnaturally drawn to Tatum I was scared that maybe I was still in love with her. Which would have been fucking terrible.

  But now that I’m here – essentially back in my old life – I can see that’s all it was. Me missing what I used to have. Tatum just happens to be the thing I missed most.

  “Hey,” Tatum says, walking through the door without knocking. “Hope you don’t mind… I brought a friend.”

  Presley walks in behind her. Both of them are wearing their work uniforms which in this case is actually a uniform. All the outfits the girls at The End Zone wear are damn cute, but this one’s my favorite. Presley waves at us uncomfortably.

  “Don’t worry, Eastman. I cleared it with your girl.”

  “Thank you, Tatum. That was super thoughtful of you,” I tell her sarcastically. “But Summer knows she doesn’t have to worry about me.”

  “Are you sure,” Nash says, pulling Tatum down on the couch between us. “These football uniforms are damn sexy and Presley’s filling it out almost as well as Tatum is.”

  Presley snorts. “Why is it that you can get away with that shit?” she asks him, plopping down on one of the recliners that Nick and Nate abandoned in favor of their race car.

  “Exactly,” I say, laughing.

  “I mean, your girlfriend is sitting right next to you and you’re telling me I’m doing a good job filling out my uniform? And I know you’re not the sharpest crayon in the box so you might not realize this, but you just encouraged Brandon to cheat on Summer who is probably the nicest person I’ve ever met. Not to mention, I am not some piece of meat that is giving out free samples to any guy who wants a taste.”

  “Damn, I like this girl,” I tell Tatum who is laughing her ass off.

  “What the hell, Eastman. You’re supposed to be backing a brother up, not siding with the chicks.”

  “Jesus, how did you ever convince a girl like Tatum to date you?” Presley says, shaking her head in disgust.

  “Thank you, Tatum, for bringing your awesome friend along. She seems like a whole lot a fun,” Nash says, ignoring Presley. He’s normally not a dick, especially to girls, but this one is clearly getting on his nerves based on his less than humorous tone. “What are you doing here, exactly?” he asks her.

  “I just spent five hours smiling at disgusting men while listening to their sexist comments, like the one you made when I walked in here, and the only reason I’m serving those men food is for an excuse to get away from my skank cousin. So when Tatum asked me if I wanted to hang out with her after work I thought it would be a better option than hanging with Jolee who has moved on to a bunch of sophomore and junior guys because they are apparently the new popular crowd. I had no idea that my chance to finally hang out with the unpopular crowd would mean spending the night with you, Carter.”

  “Jesus, Nash,” I say through the laughter I can’t seem to contain. “I’ve never heard a woman give you more shit than Tatum does, but Presley is giving her a run for her money.”

  “Both of you can shut up now,” Nash says.

  “Wow, you’re in an awesome mood,” Tatum tells him. “Are you gonna be this fun all night?”

  “Probably,” he tells her. “Unless you and I can retire to my room for the night. That would put me in a better mood.”

  “He hasn’t had a beer all night,” I tell Tatum.

  “Shut the hell up, Eastman. I’
m doing it for you.”

  “Jesus babe, you are seriously an alcoholic if a few hours without it turns you into this.”

  “Do I have to point out the fact that we are in my house? I don’t think I should have to take shit from the three of you in my house. I’m in a shit mood because your friend, who is always in a shit mood, put me in one.”

  “She’s not always in a shit mood. You just never see her when she’s not around your friend Jolee.”

  “That’s true,” I agree. “You need to lighten up and learn how to take some shit, Nash.”

  “What’s with the not drinking thing? Because I could really use a beer,” Presley says.

  “That only applies to football players during the season,” Tatum informs her. “Nash, go get your guest a beer.”

  “Sure, Tatum, I would love to,” he says standing and pausing by Presley’s chair. “Can I get you anything else as long as I’m up?” he asks, condescendingly.

  “I’m starving. We didn’t get a dinner break.”

  He looks at Tatum with frustration. “Seriously? I have to feed her?”

  “Yes. And grab me a beer too, please.”

  “Women,” he grumbles as he walks away.

  “Thanks, babe. I love you,” Tatum calls after him.

  “I love you too,” he calls with mock cheer.

  Presley yawns and stretches then curls up in the recliner, making herself at home. “I’m exhausted,” she tells Tatum. “I had no idea serving people food was so hard.”

  “You get used to it. You did great, by the way, especially for your first night.”

  “Thanks, but I’ll never be able to keep up with you. Seriously, your waitressing skills are impressive.”

  Tatum laughs bitterly, “Well they better be considering I was born and bred to do it and this is pretty much the pinnacle of my career.”

  “What? Are you planning on being a waitress for the rest of your life? What about college? What about that modeling job Corey was telling you about tonight? What about your writing?”

  “Modeling job?” I ask her.