Holding On

by Allie Everhart

  "Becca. Say something. Do you want to end this?"

  I slowly shake my head, a tear slipping my cheek.

  He sits up and takes me in his arms. "Then stop. Stop talking about us ending. Don't even put it out there as an option." He pulls back and kisses my forehead, then looks me in the eye. "I don't want to lose you. At first, I was like you and thought this wouldn't last past the summer. But then I got to know you and now I don't want you to go. I'll do whatever it takes to keep you in my life."

  Does he really mean that? Isn't it too soon to say? Maybe it's not because I feel the same way about him. Maybe I should stop trying to predict the future and just enjoy the moment. Even if Ethan and I only have the summer, why waste it worrying about what's to come?

  "Okay," I say.

  "Okay, what?"

  "I'll stop talking about us breaking up."

  "And?"

  "And what?"

  "And you'll stop calling me your friend and start calling me your boyfriend."

  "It's a deal." I slowly smile then bounce up and down on the couch and say in a high-pitched voice, "Oh my God! I'm dating Ethan Baxter! THE Ethan Baxter!"

  He waits for my performance to end before saying, "Real funny. If you really want to be one of those girls, you need to coat your face in makeup and push your breasts up until they're popping out of your shirt."

  I laugh and put my arms around his neck. "I'm just kidding. But I AM excited about dating Ethan Baxter. The REAL Ethan Baxter, not the football star. The Ethan I've gotten to know. The one who showed up to support me today. That's the Ethan I want."

  "And that's the one you have."

  I kiss him, then kiss him again, slowly, as my hand moves down his chest, then to the front of his dress pants. He's already hard and I rub my hand over it, wanting him.

  "Hold on," he says, moving my hand away. "I told you I don't want us doing that if you're only doing it to get your mind off your mom."

  "That's not why." I try to free my hand from his but he won't let me.

  "Becca," he says. "If you touch me there again, I'll have you naked in my bed within a minute, which is what I want, but it's not right."

  "It feels pretty right to me." I try to free my hand again but he holds onto it.

  "I know you're still upset about what happened, so talk to me."

  "You're saying you'd rather talk than have sex?"

  "I know, right? I think I've lost my damn mind."

  I smile. "You haven't lost your mind. You're just a nice guy."

  "Maybe, but I only have so much self control so you can't be touching me like that. At least not yet. First let's talk about what happened. Are you upset because your mom's marrying that guy or because she paid for his kids' college?"

  "Both." I sit back. "But mostly because she paid for their college. Those aren't her kids and yet she treats them better than Mike and me. It's just like Mike said. She only did it to get on Jim's good side. To get him to marry her."

  "So she never offered to help you with college?"

  I roll my eyes. "Are you kidding? She didn't even offer me money for food. After my dad died and I paid off all his debts and paid for the funeral I had nothing left. Mike was stationed overseas and sent what money he could but it wasn't enough."

  "You really lived out of your car?"

  "Just for a few weeks. It was actually my dad's car. It was old but it worked and luckily it was summer so I didn't freeze to death living in it. And it got me to my three jobs."

  "You had three jobs?"

  "I needed money and I needed it fast so I could get a place to live. When I got my first paychecks, I found a room for rent. It was in a bad part of town but it was cheap."

  "And your mom knew about this?"

  I nod. "Before I got paid, I was so desperate for food money that I called her. I asked if I could just have a hundred dollars. She yelled at me for calling to ask for money so I hung up and never called again."

  "So when she refused to give you money, what happened? You just kept working until you saved enough money for school?"

  "Yeah. It took me about a year."

  "But if your dad hadn't died, you would've started school right after high school."

  "That was the plan. But plans change."

  I've accepted that now, but back then I was so angry. I was mad at the world, the universe, at life in general, for taking my dad and leaving me with nothing. Then Mike got hurt and I never felt sorry for myself again. If he could go through all that and come out okay, then I had nothing to complain about.

  "You were accepted to University of Chicago?" Ethan asks.

  "Yeah, but it was too expensive so I decided to go to Ohio State. Dad had saved enough for the first year but then he died and I had to use the money for the funeral and medical bills and I ended up broke."

  "Why University of Chicago? Why'd you want to go there?"

  "I wanted to go into social work and they have a really good social work program. My grades in high school weren't that great so I was shocked when I got accepted but they said it was because of the essay I sent in. It was based on a paper I wrote for school about how after school programs have been proven to reduce crime among teens. Anyway, it doesn't matter. Even though I got accepted, I couldn't afford it."

  "If you want to be a social worker, why'd you go to school for nursing?"

  "Because I could get a degree in two years and start working. I didn't have the time or money to get a four-year degree. Maybe later, once I've saved enough, I'll go back and get a bachelor's degree, but for now, the two year degree will at least get me a decent paying job."

  "But it's not what you want to do."

  "Maybe not, but it'll pay the bills and I won't have trouble finding a job. And it's not like I hate it. It's just not my first choice."

  "Then don't do it."

  "Of course I'm doing it. I'm almost done with school. I only have a semester left."

  "You keep telling me to not play football if it's not what I really want to do, so why won't you follow your own advice? If you don't want to be a nurse, then don't do it."

  "It's not that I don't want to. It's just not what I thought I'd be doing. But plans change and I'm okay with that. You can't compare the two of us. My job will just be one part of my life, but being a professional athlete is more than a job. It's a lifestyle. It takes up all your time, even when you're not playing. So if you don't like it or don't want that lifestyle, you have to seriously consider not doing it, even if it means giving up millions of dollars."

  "Well, if I end up in the pros, you can go to school wherever you want. I'll pay for it. Tuition. Living expenses. All of it. I'll even buy you a car." He smiles. "I think you'd look cute in a Jeep. Or some kind of convertible, top down, your hair blowing in the breeze."

  I shake my head. "You're not buying me a car. Or paying for college. And you're not playing football just for the money. You need to think about this, Ethan. Soon the team will be back for practice and the pressure's going to be on you to play."

  "The pressure's already there. It never went away. Even right after the accident, when I was still in the hospital, I overhead my dad telling the doctor I had to play ball again. He was practically threatening the guy, as if the doctor had any control over how fast my leg would heal."

  "What about your coach? Is he pressuring you?"

  "Yeah, but only because he thinks he's helping. Coach is a good guy. He wouldn't pressure me unless he thought I needed it. And since I haven't told him differently, he thinks I want to play pro ball, so he'll do what he can to help me get there. He'll push me because he thinks he's helping me reach my goal. Unlike my dad, Coach actually supports me."

  "Then why have you been avoiding him?"

  "Because until I know what I want to do, I don't want him trying to put me back on the path for a pro career."

  "Are you getting closer to making a decision?"

  "Yeah, and I keep coming back to football. It's all I know. Like I've sa
id before, I love the game. I just don't like all the pressure. And honestly, as stupid as it sounds, I don't like my dad getting what he wants."

  "You can't not play just to piss off your dad."

  "I know. That's why I said it's stupid. But the thought still crosses my mind. He's going to make millions off me and that pisses me off. Even though he paid for me to have the best trainers in the business, that doesn't mean he owns me and my career, but he disagrees. He thinks I owe it to him to do this."

  "If your dad wasn't a factor, would you want to play professionally?"

  "If you'd asked me that before the accident I would've had no doubts about playing pro ball. But after almost getting killed, and watching three people die right in front of me..." He shuts his eyes a moment and takes a breath. "Football just doesn't seem that important anymore. The money. The fame. It doesn't excite me like it used to."

  "Then what does?"

  He shrugs. "Haven't figured that out yet."

  "Would you ever want to coach?"

  "Coach football?"

  "Yeah, like maybe coach high school or be a college coach?"

  "Huh." He pauses to think. "I've never really thought about it. I don't know if I'd make a good coach."

  "You're kind of already a coach, aren't you? I mean, you lead your team. You said yourself how you get your guys back on track when they lose focus. That's coaching."

  "I guess in a way it is."

  "I personally think you'd make a great coach."

  "Maybe. Anyway, going back to you, what are you going to do about your mom?"

  "Stop talking to her."

  "What if she calls?"

  "I won't pick up. And after today, I doubt Mike will either. I think she lost both her kids today. But at least she still has her twin boys." I roll my eyes, imagining what these guys look like. All I can come up with is a younger version of Jim, with more hair and no potbelly.

  "You feeling any better?" Ethan asks.

  "Yeah. A lot. Thanks for the talk."

  "Anytime." His hand goes behind my neck and he pulls my mouth to his for a kiss, then says, "So now that we've talked, we can do other things."

  "Like the things I wanted to do earlier?"

  "And more." He smiles against my lips.

  "What does that mean?"

  "Get in my room and you'll find out."

  We spend the rest of the day in bed and Ethan introduces me to some things I've never done before. Things I want to do again, because holy crap, I didn't know sex could be that good. I've never been with someone as experienced as Ethan, and I get the feeling he has even more tricks up his sleeve. I'm game. I trust him, even more now than before.

  Today we shared a lot with each other. Our dreams. Our struggles with our families. Our fears about the future. And sharing all that brought us closer and made me trust him, which scares me. Trust is something I don't give out to just anyone. People have to earn it, and if they mess up, they don't get it back. So I hope I'm right. I hope I can trust Ethan.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Ethan

  Becca left an hour ago and I already miss her. We spent the afternoon in bed, then made dinner and ate outside on the patio and talked. We avoided talking about our families and instead talked about other stuff, like movies and music. It turns out we like a lot of the same things, which I already knew, but the more we talk the more I find we have in common.

  After dinner, we went to my bedroom again because shit, when the sex is that good, you want to keep doing it. Then we watched movies until she left a little after eleven. Now I'm trying to sleep but the bed feels empty without her.

  I get out my phone and text her. She's probably asleep but she'll see it in the morning.

  Miss you, I text.

  The dots appear as she texts me back. Miss you too.

  You in bed?

  Yeah, but I can't sleep.

  Why not?

  Thinking about my mom.

  I call Becca, and when she answers I say, "Stop thinking about her."

  "I can't. I'm so freakin' mad at her."

  "She doesn't deserve it. You're just wasting energy being mad at someone who doesn't care." I realize that sounds harsh and say, "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I know she cares. I just meant—"

  "No. You're right. She doesn't care. If she did, she would've helped me when I needed it. She doesn't see Mike and me as her kids. We're her past. A past she doesn't want any part of."

  "So stop worrying about her. You can't change her. You just need to let her go."

  "I would but she keeps coming back."

  "You can't let her. Not if it's not what you want." I pause. "So do you?"

  "Do I what?"

  "Do you want her in your life? I know you say you don't, but is there a part of you that does?"

  She's quiet, then says, "Maybe a small part." She sighs. "God, I hate admitting that."

  "But by admitting it, and owning it, you can change it."

  She laughs. "You sound like one of those motivational speakers. Maybe that should be your career if you decide not to play football."

  "I'm serious. The only way you can change is by acknowledging the truth. And the truth is, a part of you still wants your mom to be part of your life. You're not ready to let her go."

  "Which doesn't make sense. She left us. I shouldn't even care about her."

  "But you do because she's your mom and she's the only parent you have left. I can see why you're not ready to close that door."

  She gets quiet again. I wait for her to say something but she doesn't.

  "Becca, you still there?"

  "Yeah. I was just thinking about what you said."

  "What are you thinking?"

  "That you're right. She's the only parent I have left so I keep hoping she'll act like a mom again. But I need to stop thinking of her that way. She's not my mom anymore. She stopped being a mom a long time ago. "

  "So what are you going to do?"

  "I'm not sure. I keep trying to cut her out of my life, but I still hold onto the dream of her showing up at my door, wanting to be a mom again. After what I found out this morning, I think it's time to give up that dream. I think it's time to cut all ties to her."

  I agree, but I don't say it because I want this to be Becca's decision and not influenced by my opinion.

  "Thanks for the talk," she says.

  "We're done?" I chuckle.

  "We don't have to be, but it's late and we should probably go to sleep."

  "I'm not tired. I spent most of the day in bed."

  "We weren't sleeping." I hear the smile in her voice.

  "We slept for part of the time. You wiped me out. I had to sneak in a few short naps."

  "I wore you out?" She laughs.

  "I'm just kidding. I could've gone all night." The thought of that has me remembering what we did earlier, wanting to do it again. "I wish you were here right now."

  "Where?" she asks in a flirty tone.

  "In my bed. Naked. So I could do what I want to do to you."

  "Which is what?"

  I proceed to tell her, in graphic detail, exactly what I would do if she were here.

  "Okay, I think I need a cold shower now," she kids.

  "Or you could just come over here."

  "It's after midnight."

  "So?"

  "I have to be at work at nine."

  "Then we have plenty of time."

  "I need to sleep."

  "Which we'll do after we do what I just described. So what do you think?"

  "Hmm. Stay here, unable to sleep, thinking about my mom? Or have sex with my boyfriend and fall asleep in his arms? It's a tough choice."

  "So I'll see you in a few minutes?"

  "Give me a half hour. I'm going to pack some clothes so I can go to work straight from your house in the morning."

  "You need to start leaving some stuff over here."

  "I will. I'll see you soon."

  I didn't think she'd say yes.
I thought she'd keep coming up with excuses until I finally gave up. But she didn't, because she wants to see me as much as I want to see her. This relationship is moving fast but I can't seem to slow it down. And I don't want to. I like getting closer to her. Learning more about her. Finding out what makes her happy and what makes her sad.

  I think I really am falling in love with her. I didn't intend to. Didn't want to. But now that I am, I want to be with her. I want to see her during the day and have her in my arms at night. It seems like the time we spend together is never enough.

  When she arrives at my house, I do the things I told her I would do, pleasuring her in every way I know how. And I have no shortage of ideas. I've been with a lot of girls and I'm not a selfish lover. Over the years, I've paid attention and learned what girls like. But doing those things to Becca turns me on more than any other girl I've been with.

  In the morning, she leaves for work. The fact that she spends her days cleaning houses pisses me off. She shouldn't be doing that. She should be back in school, finishing her nursing degree. Actually, she should be at a new school, a four year college, working on the degree she actually wants.

  I wish she'd let me pay for her tuition. I have plenty of money. More than I can spend in this small Midwest town where everything's cheap. I'd gladly give Becca the money if she'd accept it, but I know she won't. She's too proud to take money from me or anyone else. So for now, she's stuck working these shitty jobs.

  My phone rings. It's Jackson.

  "Hey, what's up?"

  "Me." He laughs. "I was just watching porn."

  "And you called me? What the fuck?"

  He laughs again. "I'm just kidding. Lighten up, man."

  "So what are you really doing?"

  "Eating the leftover lasagna my mom made. As much as I hate living at home, I will miss having my mom make my food. Soon I'll be back to eating frozen pizzas every night."

  "Maybe it's time you learned to cook."

  "Says someone who grew up with a chef making his food."