Let You Go: a heart-wrenching second chance romance story that will make you believe in true love

by Jaxson Kidman

“Rose, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You were with her the other night? At that big party?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Party…?”

  “Don’t play with me, Foster,” Frank said. “I don’t have time. I’m a single father to two teenage girls.”

  “Right. Of course. Sorry about that.”

  “Sorry?” Frank raised an eyebrow.

  “Yeah. For… you know. What happened with your wife. That you’re a single father.”

  “Oh.”

  He looked pissed. Well, even more pissed.

  “Shit,” I said. “Frank. Sorry I said anything. Look, I wasn’t-”

  “Let’s go have a chat,” Frank said. “Follow me.”

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  He led the way from the sidewalk to a stone walkway that ran along the side of the ugly yellow house. There was a thin strip of a garden of yellow flowers with black mulch right against the house. Frank didn’t look like the gardening type.

  He lumbered his way to the back of the house. We passed by the wooden steps where I had seen Rose sitting the first time I met her. He stopped at a set of old, rusted storm doors. The kind you’d see people in tornado movies running towards so they could hide from the storm.

  Frank took hold of one of the doors and lifted. It squeaked. He pointed down to the darkness. “Get down there, Foster.”

  I nodded.

  Looks like I was going into the storm.

  It was pitch black as the heavy door shut above us. I heard Frank breathing and the gentle clanking of a chain hitting a light bulb. A quick pull of the chain and the basement now had light.

  It was a cold, stone basement.

  One wall was stacked with metal shelves filled with paint cans. Over my shoulder, there was a weight bench in the corner with a bunch of old, beat up weights.

  “You lift?” I asked and nodded.

  “Do I look like I work out?” Frank asked as he patted his round stomach.

  “Could be a six pack under there,” I said.

  “More like a keg. Follow me.”

  We walked around the heating system and Frank went to a tall, black cabinet. He stood there and punched in a code on the lock.

  He opened the cabinet and I saw camouflage.

  And guns.

  He selected a rifle and turned. “So, this is how I envisioned it.”

  My eyes went wide. “Envisioned what?”

  “The first time a boy came to the house looking for my Rose.”

  “Right,” I said. “The whole gun-dad-scare-the-kid thing.”

  “Are you scared, Foster?”

  “I’m more scared of this basement than that gun.”

  Frank grinned. “I used to hunt a lot. Not so much now. No time.”

  “Right,” I said. It was the only word that came to mind.

  “You were at that party with Rose. She came home and wasn’t all that happy. Care to tell me what happened?”

  “No,” I said.

  “I get it. Tough guy. I don’t think I have to explain to you what my daughters mean to me.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “And I don’t need to explain what I would do to you if you hurt her.”

  “No.”

  “So you’re dating my daughter?”

  “No,” I said.

  “No? Then why are we in the basement?”

  “You told me to follow you, Frank.”

  “Yes, I did,” he said. He turned and put the rifle back into the cabinet. He locked it back up. “I keep dangerous things away from hurting those I love.”

  I didn’t respond.

  Frank walked to an ugly fridge and opened it. He grabbed two cans of beer. He held his hand out. “Take one.”

  “Beer? No.”

  “You want a shot of whiskey?”

  “No, Frank. I’m good.”

  “So you’re the first and only teenager that doesn’t drink?”

  “One of a kind,” I said.

  Frank put a beer back into the fridge. “Don’t lie to me, Foster. Don’t drink and drive. With or without my daughter in your car. Even if you don’t have a car, don’t get in a car when you’re drunk. If you see my Rose doing anything stupid, you save her. You put your ass on the line for her if you care about her.”

  I nodded. “I just wanted to check on her.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll be honest, Frank. She caught me kissing a girl at the party.”

  “You broke her heart?”

  “No,” I said. “Or if I did, I didn’t mean to. I saved her. Party things were going on and I made sure she was safe.”

  “Right. And then you started kissing some other girl?”

  “It’s not like that, Frank. There was a situation. I had to leave the party.”

  Frank nodded. “I know where you come from, Foster. You’re a street punk. Except you don’t fit the part. Which tells me you don’t want the part.”

  “Can’t control where we come from.”

  “That’s a good answer,” he said. “So here’s what I’ll do. You can stop by and see Rose anytime you want. Front porch. Different chairs. Talk. Laugh. That’s fine with me. I might even toss an extra burger on the grill for you once in a while.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  Frank put his unopened beer can down on a table. He walked right to me and put a finger to my chest.

  “If you ever need help, Foster, you come to me. Something goes wrong over there where you live, you come to me. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “The last thing I need is my Rose to get tied up in any garbage because she’s got puppy eyes for you.”

  “I would never hurt her, Frank. She’s a good person. She’s smart. She’s nice. She’s honest. She’s street smart, too. And she’s…”

  “What?” Frank asked. “She’s what?”

  “Well, she’s pretty. Okay?”

  He curled his lip. “I’ll give you that. She looks like her mother.”

  I swallowed hard.

  He lifted his finger from my chest and slapped his hand to my cheek. Stinging pain shot through my face, but I didn’t flinch.

  “Stay smart, Foster. I know you didn’t ask for what you’ve been dealt. Shit, none of us want what we’ve been dealt with. I’ve got two daughters upstairs that have no mother. And you, Foster…”

  “No, Frank,” I said. “Don’t play the pity card on me. I can make my way through anything. I just wanted to see Rose for a minute. Let her know that I’m sorry for what happened at that party. If she thought something else… and I wasn’t…”

  Frank waved a hand. “Save it for her. If the worst thing that my Rose is going through is some boy she likes kissing another girl, I can live with that. I just don’t want to ever see her cry because of you.”

  I nodded.

  “Tell you what,” he said. “Go up the steps. That door opens into the dining room. If she’s downstairs, go out on the porch.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Thanks. And, hey, if you ever need help with anything around here. Or the garage. Or whatever. I mean, a set of hands. You know, a guy.”

  “A guy,” Frank said with a nod. “Right. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  I felt foolish. I let that shit slip out too easily. Practically begging for Frank’s attention. He’d never had a son. I’d never really had a father.

  Stupid.

  I walked away and made it halfway up the steps.

  “Hey, Foster,” Frank called out.

  “Yeah?”

  “How do you like your burger cooked?”

  I smirked. “Still walking.”

  Frank laughed. “Good man right there. No shoe leather.”

  I had gotten the invite for dinner.

  I hurried up the steps with a smile on my face.

  Amazing… five minutes with Frank and he did more for me than my father had done all my life.

  I opened the basement door and Rose spun around in the kitchen. The dining room op
ened right up into the kitchen area.

  “Foster?” she asked.

  “Rose,” I said.

  “Where’s my father?”

  “In the basement still,” I said. I shut the door. “Why?”

  “Just asking. He said you could come up here?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He must like you then.”

  “Whatever,” I said. “Can we go out front and talk?”

  “I don’t think we have anything to talk about, Foster.”

  “I wanted to explain myself about the party.”

  “I really don’t care,” she said.

  “I do.”

  “I don’t,” she said. “You don’t need to stalk my house anymore.”

  “So that’s that?”

  “Yeah. Why? You got your six minutes, remember?”

  I nodded. “Ouch. Well, then I guess I’ll just leave.”

  “See you later, Foster.”

  I walked out of the dining room and looked back. “For the record, Rose, I wished it was you. And I only held back because I wanted it to be special for you.”

  “What are you talking about?” she asked.

  “That kiss,” I said. “What you saw. I wished it were you. I thought about you.”

  She didn’t respond.

  I took a few more steps and looked back one more time. Rose was looking down, biting her lip, smiling.

  I left the house that day feeling like a million bucks.

  But going home meant living dirt fucking poor.

  8

  I Could Save Your Life

  Rose

  I left Dani’s house after we got into a stupid argument. She was acting all moody for girlie reasons and because she and Jeff broke up. Not that they were ever really dating. It was more casual than anything else. But Jeff had eyes for another girl in another school. So that broke Dani’s heart a little as she realized she’d had feelings for Jeff all along. Too little, too late, huh?

  So anyway, I was walking home, alone in the dark. Not that the town of Plenopville was riddled with crime. And, yes, that was the name of the town. The joke was to call the town Please, no because nobody wanted to live there. Nobody wanted to be there after high school ended because there was nothing in town.

  At the end of Dani’s dead end street there was a small alley. You could fit a car through there, but cops would get pissed if you used it. Only the people that lived right next to the alley used it. Even then, if you got some jerk like Officer Stan, you’d end up getting a ticket.

  I hurried down the alley and was just a block away from home.

  I heard a noise across the street in between two old brick buildings that had been abandoned for as long as I could remember. It was a dirt parking lot and kids would hang out back there and get high.

  That’s what I figured was going on.

  I heard the noise again. It was a thudding type sound. Grunting.

  I looked left and told myself to just go home.

  “Fucking asshole,” a voice said. “Your next foster home is a fucking grave.”

  That caught my attention.

  I stepped back as people appeared across the street. It was three guys. Well, four if you count what looked like a lifeless body that they were carrying.

  That lifeless body?

  It was Foster.

  I gasped and covered my mouth.

  “Hold him up,” one of the guys said.

  The other two held Foster up. His head rolled left to right.

  “Stupid fucking dirt bag,” the first guy said. “Scum.”

  The first guy threw a punch and hit him in the stomach.

  Foster let out a grunt sound and his knees gave way. The two guys holding him struggled to keep him on his feet.

  “Hey!” I called out as I slipped back into the shadows of the alley. “Hey you! Stop! Cops are coming!”

  Those last three words might have saved Foster’s life.

  Without hesitation, all three guys started to run.

  Foster toppled to the ground.

  I watched the three figures turn into shadows and waited until the shadows were gone before I started to run across the street to see if Foster was alive.

  I had never seen anything like that before. My mind flashed with the image of the two guys holding him up while the third guy punched him. Talk about an unfair fight.

  Why did they do that to him?

  “Foster,” I said when I got close enough for him to hear to me.

  He was on his side, his back toward me.

  At the sound of my voice, his head popped up and he hurried to sit up.

  “Rose?” he asked.

  “Foster.” I crouched down. “Foster…”

  His face was messed up. Bloody lip. His left eye swollen. His clothes ripped up.

  He stretched his jaw and groaned. “Shit.”

  “What the hell was that? Should I call the cops?”

  “No, don’t call the cops,” he said. “No need for that.”

  “What was that about?”

  “Just a discussion.”

  “Discussion? They were attacking you. Three on one. That’s not fair.”

  “I won’t argue that,” Foster said. He put his hands to the ground and groaned. He started to climb to his feet, favoring his left leg as he did so. “That guy’s a jackass, Rose. He couldn’t face me man to man. He waited for me to slip between those buildings…”

  “Why? What were you doing there?”

  He grinned with pain. “I was just there. Okay?”

  “Okay. Who were those guys? Why…”

  He stutter stepped and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Rose. That party we were at. Remember that girl you saw me kissing?”

  “Yeah,” I said, my stomach instantly bubbling with jealousy.

  “That was her boyfriend.”

  “She had a boyfriend,” I said. “And you kissed her.”

  Foster shrugged his shoulders.

  “Here I thought I was helping you… I should have left them to keep going. You jerk.”

  I turned and he caught hold of me. When I turned back, I threw a fist. I had never punched someone in my life before. But something inside me snapped.

  Now, the second my hand hit Foster’s face, I felt terrible. And I felt pain. I jumped back and cradled my hand.

  “Jesus, Rose,” Foster yelled. He covered his nose and turned his head. “Shit. That hurt.”

  “Foster. I’m…”

  “No,” he said. “Don’t be sorry.”

  “I’m not sorry,” I said. “I’m… glad I did that. You stupid jerk. You kissed some guy’s girlfriend. And you hurt me. All in the same night.”

  Foster lowered his hands. “Seriously? I hurt you that night? I did what I thought was right for you. Kept you safe from that stupid fucking game. I already told you I wished it were you.”

  “Big deal,” I said.

  “Right. Big deal. Look, I didn’t ask you for help here. I could have figured this out myself.”

  “You would have ended up in the hospital if I hadn’t saved you.”

  Foster laughed. “Rose, please. They wouldn’t have beaten me up that badly. Hospital would lead to cops. Big bad football player can’t mess with his potential scholarship.”

  “Scholarship? We’re only…”

  “Who cares,” Foster said. “Screw those guys. Plus, I have a way to fix that. I can take back what they just took from me.”

  “What are you talking about, Foster?”

  “Are you sure you want to see this?”

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  Foster looked around and stepped toward me.

  He reached behind himself.

  And he took out a gun.

  I gasped when I saw the weapon. I looked at the gun, at Foster, at the gun, at Foster…

  “What the hell are you doing with that?” I called out.

  “Quiet,” he said. “It’s just… mine. Something I have. Those assholes… if
they’d kept going, I would have used this. I let him get those punches in. I respect what I did wrong. Maybe I did it for you.”

  “What? You’re going to tell me that you let those guys beat you up?”

  “Maybe,” he said. “I was pissed off that night at the party. So I went inside and some girl threw herself at me. I lifted her up and carried her to that bedroom. We started kissing. That was it. I’m tired of talking about that night. And those guys… they got the first punch. I’ll get the last one.”

  “Put that away right now,” I said. I tried to be cool, but I was terrified. My heart slammed against the inside of my chest. “Put the gun away, Foster. Come with me.”

  “Where?”

  “To my house. Let me get you cleaned up.”

  The look in his eyes was wild. I wondered if he was feeling embarrassed that he had gotten beaten up and that I had found him.

  Foster didn’t move right away. So I stepped forward and put my hand on his wrist. There was no way I was touching the gun. It was too scary for me.

  “Please,” I whispered.

  “Rose, you don’t get it,” Foster whispered.

  I nodded. “Come sit with me. Make me get it. Put the gun away and come talk to me.”

  Foster took a deep breath and finally put the gun away.

  Relief moved through me.

  I turned and he was by my side.

  After just a few steps, I reached for his hand.

  My hand in his. His hand in mine.

  In silence.

  Walking the streets of our crummy town.

  Together.

  I felt happy… but the night wasn’t over yet.

  “Okay,” I whispered. “I snuck all I could. If my father comes out here and catches us, you just start running.”

  “No,” Foster said. “I won’t lie to Frank. I made a promise to him. I won’t lie.”

  “Frank…,” I whispered. It was always weird hearing my father’s name. “Okay. Well, let me wipe the blood and see what kind of bandages I can use.”

  I rolled up a paper towel and dipped it into some peroxide. I touched his lip and cheek.

  Foster sucked in a breath.

  “Sorry,” I whispered.

  “No,” he said. “It’s all good.”

  “Stings?”

  “Not much.”

  I wiped his face over and over as we sat there in silence.