Jacob was my cousin, but more than that, he was my best friend. He was the strongest boy I knew. I’d watched him struggle to live his life, never letting his sickness pull him down. And I knew I was a better person for having known him. It would be hard without him, but I knew I was lucky to have had him in my life for however brief that time was.
I stepped up to the podium, my legs and fingers shaking as I looked around the crowded room. There were so many people there, and there wasn’t enough seating. Players from different teams lined the walls, wearing their Newdale colors with their heads down.
My eyes moved to the front pew, and Gretchen smiled back at me, a tiny bit of smeared mascara next to her eye from crying. I nodded at her, letting her know in my way how much I loved her.
Using my good hand, I unfolded the piece of paper I had folded in my jacket pocket. On it was words that I’d written—everything I’d ever wanted to say to Jacob spilled across the page, waiting for me to read them.
When Mrs. Irene asked me to give the eulogy at Jacob’s wake, it had taken me by surprise. I’d always just assumed Mr. and Mrs. Byrd hated me. Little did I know, they were just as sad about leaving me behind as Jacob was.
My eyes moved over my scrawled handwriting, taking in the words and making my eyes blur. I wasn’t sure I could do it. I didn’t think I could open up my heart and let everything pour out in front of all the people watching. But then I felt Gretchen at my side, and I knew I could do anything.
I looked up at her touch and smiled at her. I’d always want her. I loved her more than words could say, and even though I hated that Jacob and I were apart for so many years¸ there was a still a part of me that was grateful that my absence in Jacob’s life had brought Gretchen to me.
She reached out and took my hand, squeezing it the way Jacob had before he passed. “You can do it. I’m right here with you.”
I squeezed her hand back and prepared to read my words, but before I could read the first word, something shifted inside of me. This wasn’t me. Jacob was probably up there laughing at me, watching me make a complete and total fool out of myself by reading a bunch of words that were meant for his eyes only.
Folding up the piece of paper, I stuffed it in my jacket pocket and smiled into the crowd of grievers.
“My name’s Sawyer Reed,” I said into the mic, my voice booming throughout the church. “And Jacob was my best friend. He knew me better than a lot of people and I knew him.
“I sat up last night writing this long, sad eulogy about my best friend, but I know Jacob wouldn’t want me to read that. He’d want me to come up here and be myself—he’d want me to be honest. So that’s what I’m going to do.”
I cleared my throat and swallowed my nerves.
“Jacob couldn’t hold a tune to save his life.” I chuckled to myself, remembering how terrible his singing was. “There was once this time when we were around eight years old. We were camping in my daddy’s pastures and Jacob starting singing. It was terrible. So bad in fact that the cows started to moo. They wouldn’t stop even after Jacob stopped singing, and we ended up having to go inside for the night to get some sleep. That’s how bad he was at singing.”
A few chuckles sounded in the room, and I felt my smile grow larger.
“He taught me how to swim when I was six after I almost drowned in the pond behind his house. And no matter what, he always had my back. I once got into a fight with the biggest boy in school, and Jacob was there, fighting right alongside me. We both went home with black eyes and were put on restriction for a week. That’s the kind of friend Jacob was.
“Whatever I was getting into, he was getting into, and it was the same for me. We were inseparable—always getting into something and loving every minute of it. Not many people can say they have a friend like that, but I had one, and as long as there’s a breath in my body, people will remember him.
“He’s the reason I love football. The reason I brought it all on the field every time I played. And without knowing it, he taught me how to swallow my pride when it was needed, and that it was okay to be wrong sometimes because there was always something in this world more important than being right.”
I looked over at Gretchen and reached out for her hand.
“He brought the love of my life to me, and I really believe she was his final gift. You see, Jacob’s the reason I’m the man I am today—the driving force behind a lot of my life’s decisions, and I only wish I could have told him that before he left this world. There was a lot of wasted time between Jake and me, and I think if I were to leave any message with y’all here today, it would be to never let anything get in the way of you and the people who mean the most. Never assume. Always ask.”
“Thanks to Jacob, I’ll never be stupid enough to waste time with anyone I love ever again.”
I squeezed Gretchen’s hand and smiled.
“So, Jacob, if you’re up there listening … thank you. For being the best friend a boy could ask for. For having my back no matter what and for waking me up and bringing love and happiness into my life again. I can’t thank you enough, bro.
“So until I get there, keep the heavenly gridiron clean and keep practicing because we’ll meet on the field again one day, and when that happens, you better not hold back. We love you, man.”
I stepped away from the podium, and my eyes shifted over the casket that held my best friend. Moving down from the stage, I took a seat next to Mr. and Mrs. Byrd, and Mrs. Byrd patted my hand sweetly with a smile.
I sat and listened as the music began to play, and Gretchen took a microphone from the pastor. Her voice spilled into the church sending chills over my body. She really had a beautiful voice, but I could tell from the tears in her eyes that it was taking everything she had to get the lyrics out.
Gretchen didn’t often sing since it reminded her so much of her mother, but for Jacob, she’d do anything. So when his parents asked her if she would sing at his wake, she agreed without question.
Once her song was over, me and the other pallbearers, all guys from Jacob’s team, lifted his casket and took it outside to the hearse.
Jacob was buried in the same cemetery as Gretchen’s mother. His plot located next to hers as they lowered his casket into the ground. I held Gretchen close as she cried into my jacket, and we watched as his teammates walked by his casket, each dropping a red feather on top of the perfectly cut flowers that covered the top.
Red Byrd.
I’d given him that name, and he’d carried it with him always. It was even on his headstone, carved in thick lettering.
Afterward, the crowd cleared, each of us going to our cars and preparing to drive to Jacob’s parents’ house to eat. I didn’t feel much like eating, but still, I held Gretchen’s hand as we walked to my truck, and I helped her climb into the passenger’s seat.
As I stepped around my truck, I noticed a red bird perching on a limb just above my truck. I didn’t see cardinals much, but I remembered my momma always telling me that cardinals were really your loved ones visiting you.
I smiled up the bird, sure that it was Jacob saying his final good-bye. And then suddenly, the bird took a big shit, the white goo smacking onto my windshield in a loud plop.
I sighed and shook my head with a smile.
“Really, Byrd?” I chuckled to myself. “Did you have to shit on my truck?”
At that, the bird flew away, squawking as it flapped its wings as if it were laughing at me.
“Run, son!” Sawyer called out from the sidelines, as we watched our son, Jacob, run the ball toward the end zone.
His tiny six-year-old legs hustled the way his daddy taught him, and when he crossed into the end zone, the crowd of parents cheered.
I laughed when Sawyer ran out onto the field as if it was the biggest game of Jacob’s life. He lifted him up on his shoulders; Jacob’s giggles reaching my ears and making me smile.
The rest of Jacob’s team crowded around Jacob and Sawyer, and Sawyer high-fived the lit
tle boys, telling them all how great they’d played and making their day.
I loved that no matter how hectic his schedule was, Sawyer hardly ever missed one of Jacob’s games. He was always there on the sidelines, cheering all the boys and building up their confidence in a way that made me love him even more.
After the game, Jacob ran to my side and hugged me close.
“Did you see me, Mom? Did you see me run? I was fast, wasn’t I?”
I laughed and hugged him close, his muddy hands leaving stains on my shirt. “I sure did. You were super-fast.”
At that, he ran over to where my dad sat in his wheelchair and hugged him. From where I was standing, I could see the happy sparkle in my dad’s eyes, and the tears rushed in. I blinked, holding them back.
Once he finished signing autographs, Sawyer made his way over to where we were sitting and helped me pack up the pop-up chairs.
Jacob was running around with his teammates, burning out any bit of energy he had left.
“I love this,” Sawyer said, his eyes full of happiness and love.
“I know you do, baby.”
“No seriously, I’d rather be at one of his games than my own. It’s so much more exciting.”
I stopped what I was doing and looked at him with a lifted brow. “Really, Sawyer? You’re telling me you think a peewee football game is more exciting than an NFL game?”
“Absolutely.”
“If you say so,” I said, folding the blanket that I’d used to cover my dad’s legs.
My dad didn’t live with us, his nurse, Natalie, was still there caring for him, but I spent time with him every chance I had. I made sure he was at all of Jacob’s games because I knew how happy it made him, and whenever our families got together for dinner or a holiday, my dad was there.
“I do say so. Seeing my boy play is the best.”
I looked up at my husband and smiled. He really was the cutest, sexiest thing alive. Moving close to him, I put my arms around his neck and kissed him softly. He’d been growing his beard out, making him even sexier, and it tickled my chin, making me giggle.
“You’re adorable. Do you know that?” he asked.
“I know you think I’m adorable, but really, I’m just short cow,” I giggled, rubbing my palms over my large belly.
Sawyer dropped to his knees in front of me, kissing my stomach in front of the lingering parents and making them smile.
“When he comes, we’ll put him in football, too. He and his brother can play together,” he said proudly, his eyes shining with love when he looked up at me.
“And what if he doesn’t want to play football. What if he wants to play basketball?” I asked, knowing it would drive Sawyer nuts to sit through a basketball game.
“Then I’ll be on the side of the court cheering him on just as I am with Jacob.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yep.”
“And what if it’s not a son? What if it’s a daughter?” I asked.
We’d opted not to find out the gender of the baby, even though Sawyer swore it was another boy. We wanted to be surprised.
Sawyer’s eyes widen, making me chuckle.
“Oh lord, don’t even say it. If it’s a girl, she can play whatever she wants. I’ll only have one rule.”
Reaching out, I ran my fingers through his hair. “And what’s that?”
“She’s never allowed to marry a man like me.”
I laughed, feeling happier than I had in my entire life. Because even though Sawyer thought his daughter marrying a man like him was the worst thing that could happen, I knew the truth. And the truth was that our daughter would be lucky to have a man like her daddy. I know I was.
CHAPTER 1
LYLA EVANS
“FUCK, BABY, I can smell that sweet pussy all the way over here.”
My eyes flashed his way, and I was met with a hairy face and rotting teeth. Quickly, I looked away.
“I’d kill every motherfucker in this place to feel those pouty lips on my dick,” another inmate called out.
I looked straight ahead instead of into the eyes of the men who shouted out to me.
The words of the warden and the commanding officer at my interview moved through my mind.
Don’t show fear. If you show fear, they’ll eat you alive.
“I bet that shit tastes like strawberry pie. I could eat strawberry pie all day, baby.”
You have to be assertive. Show them you won’t take their mental abuse.
“Hey, Strawberry Shortcake, can I have a taste? Fuck, just looking at you makes me hungry.”
Their words echoed all around me. The ones who weren’t calling out derogatory things were laughing. They were having a good time at my expense. I was nothing but a joke to them.
Be very private about who you are when you’re with the inmates. Don’t talk about your personal life with other staff in front of the inmates. Even simple things, said over time, will paint a very detailed picture. Inmates are always listening. Always.
“Come here and let me tongue fuck your slippery clam, pretty girl.”
Never turn your back on an inmate; don’t let them walk behind you on the way to the blood pressure machine; don’t turn your back as you dispose of sharps, etc.
“Look over here, sweet thing. Look at all this cock I got for you.”
Make sure at least one custody officer is with you at all times: in the infirmary, treatment area, escorting, etc.
If my daddy knew the kind of job I was working, he’d roll over in his grave three times and pop open a beer to soothe his nerves. Not the nurse part, he always knew I wanted to go into nursing, but where I was a nurse was the problem.
The thought of his little girl working in a maximum-security prison full of hardened criminals would kill him if he weren’t already dead. But he was dead. Had been for three years, and I was left to fend for myself.
God rest his sweet soul and bless him.
It was my first day and my nerves were definitely getting the best of me. Of course, it didn’t help that I was locked inside. Watching the bars close behind me every time I moved further into the prison to the infirmary was enough to send me straight into an anxiety attack. It was suffocating in a way. I couldn’t imagine being an inmate and not being able to leave.
When another round of bars closed behind me with a loud bang, I took a deep breath.
I was fresh out of nursing school. I’d done my clinicals for a family practice close to home, taking the temps of children and the blood pressure of the elderly. I was so thrilled to graduate and become a registered nurse. Looking back, I remember how excited I was about the possibility of working the labor and delivery floor at St. Francis Hospital. Bringing new life into the world and holding a newborn life in my hands was my ideal dream.
I was clueless.
Jobs were few and far between. With bills that needed to be paid and student loans that were soon to be knocking on my checkbook, I couldn’t afford to be picky. Instead, I was walking halls full of men who had taken lives—ones with no remorse for their crimes.
I’d accepted a job in the infirmary at Fulton Rhodes Penitentiary, one of the most dangerous prisons on the East Coast.
“Hey, Red, how’s about taking a ride on this hard cock?”
It got worse the more we walked.
“Don’t look them in the eye,” Officer Douglas said from the side of his mouth. Louder, and in a much harsher tone, he snarled to an inmate as we passed by, “Knock it off, Reid. Put your pecker back in your pants or I’m taking your ass to solitary.”
I walked next to him toward the infirmary. Cells lined the halls around me, and the men inside them continued to call out filthy words that made my stomach turn. I knew when I took the job how hard it was going to be, but being spoken to that way wasn’t something I was accustomed to.
Closing my eyes, I swallowed hard before taking a deep breath and schooling my expression. I couldn’t let these men eat me alive on the first day. My da
ddy didn’t raise me to be a quitter. I’d always been tough as nails, but losing my dad had softened me a bit. I was raw and hurt—afraid of everything that moved—and it wasn’t like me. I’d always been able to handle being roughed up a little, but I was still sickened by the foul things that flew from the mouths of murderers.
Finally, we left the block and the final set of bars closed behind us. When we stepped into the infirmary, I was able to breathe again. The space was empty except for the beds that lined the crisp, white walls. The sharp scent of antiseptic stung my nostrils, but after the pungent odor of the men on the block, the hospital smell was welcomed. I’d never been more thankful to be inside of a germfree environment.
“Here we are,” Officer Douglas said. “Dr. Giles will be with you shortly.”
He backed out of the room with an awkward smile. The bars opened with the loud clicking I knew I needed to get used to, and then closed behind him with a final bang.
I was alone. The room around me haunted me with its bare walls and gray and white shadows of sin. Alone—in a maximum-security prison with murders, rapist, and God only knew what else just outside the room.
Great.
I picked up a stethoscope from the counter, the cold steel burning my fingertips. When I set it down, the noise echoed throughout the room, sending chills down my spine. I didn’t know if I’d ever get used to working in such a place.
There were many beds. Some were hidden behind the closed separator curtains, making me nervous that I wasn’t alone. That there might be a sleeping inmate behind one of those curtains. Maybe he would wake up at any minute to rape and murder me.
It could happen.
I jumped when a buzzer sounded and a door I hadn’t noticed in the room opened. A man, who I could only assume was Dr. Giles, entered the room. His jacket was as white as the walls around us, his eyes just as cold, but his smile was warm. I guessed that would have to be enough.
“You must be Lyla. I’m so glad you’re here. We’ve been shorthanded for far too long.”
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