by Shandi Boyes
That’s set to change. From now on, I’m going to meet her dedication with an equal amount of enthusiasm, if not a little more.
After rubbing the groove between my eyes with her thumb, Savannah repeats, “You never answered me earlier. Do you think you’ll fight again?”
I take a moment to contemplate a reply before shrugging. “I don’t know. Probably?”
When Savannah asked the same question during my commute to her home, I kind of skirted the question, unsure of my decision. But the more I think about it, the more I realize I’d be foolish to turn down the prospect of making more money. If I compete in another two or three fights before school is out, I’ll have a nice nest egg to support me until I decide what I am going to do with my life.
“I saw Isaac today. He set aside some money from my win last night, so another round is already on the table.”
I must not answer Savannah the way she was hoping, as the fear in her eyes returns stronger than ever.
“I really wish you wouldn’t, Ryan. The men who host those events are not nice people. You shouldn’t be socializing with anyone you met in that warehouse.”
A hole burrows into my chest when Savanah slips out of my grasp and heads for the stairs. Luckily for her, we’ve been floating in the shallow end the past ten minutes. Unfortunately for me, it helps her escape.
“If they are horrible people, why are you associating with them?” I ask, following her out of the pool. “You’re more likely to get hurt by them than me. Col proved that without a doubt last night.”
My words are strained through clenched teeth, still furious at the circumstances of our reunion. I’m glad Savannah and I have reconnected, but I wish it was done with less angst.
Shrugging off my worry with a heavy sigh, Savannah saunters to a stack of towels dumped at a concrete pillar holding up the upstairs patio. After plucking a towel from the top of the pile, she whips her skin-tight shirt over her head. I drop my hand from my shaggy hair to my crotch faster than a heartbeat when I notice the poor job her lace bra does concealing her curvy boobs from my perverted gaze.
“Fuckin’ hell, Savannah. Are you trying to kill me?”
I lift my eyes to the darkening sky, unsure if I should thank God for the enticing visual or curse him. I should probably do both.
“Don’t act like you haven’t seen my boobs before, Ryan.”
My eyes return to Savannah’s, shocked by the sneer in her tone. She folds her arms under her chest, enhancing the assets I’m struggling not to notice. She taps her foot, impatiently waiting for me to back up her claims.
“I’ve seen your boobs, but not like that.”
I lower my eyes to her chest with only a second to spare before a towel conceals the amazing visual. I shouldn’t be looking—I have no right to look—but I’m fucking looking. I’m not an idiot. Savannah has fantastic tits. She barely filled in an A cup when I "accidentally" walked in on her getting changed in my room. Now she would be an easy D—if not double D.
Noticing the bulge my drenched boxers can’t contain wipes the worry from Savannah's face. Her throat works hard to swallow before she mumbles, "It appears I'm not the only one who has done some growing the past five years." Her husky voice sends a pleasing zap straight to my balls, thickening my dick even more.
“If you don’t get your eyes off my crotch, it’s gonna keep growing,” I warn through gritted teeth.
I’m not angry at Savannah, I just can’t breathe from the hunger sparking in her eyes, much less speak.
“It gets bigger than that?” Savannah murmurs breathlessly, her tone hitching at the end.
Like it’s determined to make a fool out of me, my dick hardens to a point it's painful.
“Oh for the love of God,” Savannah purrs as her heated gaze burn a hole in my crotch.
I should be pleased by her slack-jawed response, but I’m not. In all honesty, it pisses me off. Is she surprised because she’s never seen an erect dick before? Or because a half-chewed walnut can’t compare to the boner her body would instigate from any red-blooded man? I want to believe her response is because of my first theory, but the hard knot in my gut has its own theory.
“Why are you with Axel, Savannah? The guy is a fucking asshat,” I stammer out before I can stop my words.
Savannah's eyes lift from my crotch to my face. Her lips twitch for several moments before she finally spits out, "We have a lot in common."
“Bullshit,” I sneer, calling her out as a liar for the second time tonight. “The only thing you have in common is money.”
Anger morphs Savannah’s face, matching the fury in my veins. “Don’t judge him, Ryan. He was the only one there for me when others weren't." Her snarky tone leaves no suspicions on who the "others" are. She's referring to me.
"That's not fair. You can't throw away our friendship like trash then call me out for not being there for you," I retaliate, following after her as she makes her way down the track we walked earlier hand in hand. "I would have been there if you had given me a chance."
Savannah spins on her heels so fast her wet hair slaps my face. "I did give you a chance! But you took their side! You chose them over me!” She angrily wipes tears off her cheeks, hating that they are making her look weak. “You should have chosen me over them. You should have hated them with me. We should have hated them together.”
“Who? Who should I be hating?” I ask, confused as hell.
I honestly have no clue who she's talking about. It can’t be Brax or Chris, as they loved her like a sister. For years, it was the four of us every single weekend. Then poof, she vanished, not hurting just me, but them as well.
“Chris was joking when he said he wanted a boys’ club. He was just annoyed you wouldn’t kiss him when the bottle landed on him.”
Savannah shakes her head before pivoting on her heels. “It’s not Chris, Ryan. God!” she breathes out in frustration.
Eager to stop her hasty retreat, I seize her arm. Although I’m not clutching her with half the force Axel used last night, a stabbing pain hit my chest the instant I grabbed her. I drop her arm like it's scorching my palm, praying I’m the only one noticing similarities between my hold and Axel’s last night.
Although I’m no longer keeping her captive, Savannah’s feet remain planted on the ground. She's facing away from me, but her tiny frame is shaking, leading me to believe she's crying.
“Please don’t cry,” I beg, stepping closer to her.
I wrap my arms around her torso, hopeful she won't pull away. She doesn't. Even though I'm wearing nothing but drenched boxer shorts, the angry confusion pumping through my veins keeps us warm.
I wait for her shakes to ease before saying, “I’m clueless, Savannah. I’m fucking lost.” I’m clueless as to whom she's talking about, but I’m also lost without her in my life.
Savannah whispers something, but either her voice is too low for me to pick up, or I’m going deaf. With my pulse raging through my body like a tornado, I’d say it's the latter.
When I tell Savannah that, she repeats, “Your dad.”
A cold chill rockets down my spine. “My dad? What about my dad?”
My words are forced through a brick in my throat. If he hurt Savannah...if he's the reason we’ve spent the last five years apart...I’ll... I’ll...I’ll fucking kill him.
"Did he hurt you, Savannah?" My voice is so thick I don't recognize it. It's as husky as my dad’s when he guzzles a fifth of scotch straight.
Hearing the torment in my voice, Savannah pivots around to face me. Her movements are unsteady since I have her wrapped up in a cocoon hold. I breathe for the first time in what feels like minutes when she peers into my eyes before shaking her head.
“Not physically anyway,” she mumbles, her low tone not issuing the same guarantee her eyes do. "You really don't know, do you?"
I shake my head. I’m more shocked now than I’ve ever been.
“Did you get my letter?” Her tone is nothing like the one s
he used earlier. This one is sweetened with understanding.
Her pupils widen to the size of saucers when I once again shake my head. “You wrote me letters?
Savannah nods. “Only one. I hand delivered it...” Suddenly, the color drains from her face. “Oh no—your mom. She must have read it.”
She slaps her hand over her mouth as if she's going to be sick. "She wasn’t supposed to see the letter. Oh god. She must hate me."
“No,” I deny with a shake of my head. “My mom loves you.”
That isn’t a lie. Savannah was the daughter my mom never had. She has missed her as much as I have the past five years.
“She would have been upset, Ryan. I hated myself for what happened, so I’m sure she felt the same way.” Her chest rises and falls three times before she murmurs, “The first time I walked in on them was on your thirteenth birthday. They promised they would stop.” Her lips harden into a straight line. “They didn’t.”
“Who promised?” I ask, still lost on who she's referencing.
“Your dad...” Savannah licks her lips before adding on, “And my mom.”
It takes a few seconds for my muddled brain to compile the facts, but when it does, the truth smacks into me like a freight train.
“Our parents had an affair?”
I don’t know why I’m asking a question. The answer is as obvious as the sun hanging in the sky. But with my mind still hazy, I want Savannah to spell it out for me.
When Savannah briefly nods, I ask, “For how long?”
“I don’t know when it started, but it ended when my dad found out.” Her eyes blacken with pain when she mentions her dad. “In the beginning, I blamed us: if we weren’t friends, they would have never met. It was only when their affair continued after I pulled away from you did I realize we didn’t do anything wrong. By then it was too late, too many months had passed. My letter was my last ditch attempt to build the bridge I had burned between us. I wrote it a little over four years ago.”
I raise my eyes to the sky, fighting to hold in the anger burning me alive. I'm not mad at Savannah. I'm furious at both my mom and myself. I should have looked into the reason for her absence more thoroughly. I knew there had to be more to it. But since I was just a teenage boy with out-of-control hormones, I accepted her lack of contact as a knock to my ego and moved on. It was an immature move, but what is my mom’s excuse? She’s an adult—then and now. She shouldn’t have kept this from me.
My mind drifts from negative thoughts when Savannah misinterprets my anger as disbelief. “I know you have no reason to believe me, Ryan—”
“I believe you,” I interrupt, dropping my eyes from the sky to her. “I just wish you would have told me sooner. If I had known...”
My words trail off when I fail to find the appropriate thing to say. I don’t know what I would have done all those years ago, but I’m certain I wouldn’t have done it alone. I would have stood by Savannah. I would have hated them with her.
Savannah’s teeth graze her bottom lip as she faintly nods, like she understands the words my mouth botched. “I wish I had told you at the start. It just hurt admitting it out loud. My dad adored my mom...” She exhales a sharp breath, settling the sniffles in her voice before finishing her sentence. “It killed him seeing her like that—with him. He hasn’t been the same man since that day.”
“I’m sorry my dad put him through that.” My voice cracks with anger, furious I am once again apologizing for my dad’s idiotic mistakes.
Although you can’t miss the annoyance in my tone, you can also hear my sincerity. Savannah’s dad worshipped his wife, so I can imagine how gutted he was when he learned of their affair. I’m sure he was just as devasted as I was when I lost Savannah’s utmost devotion.
“How is he now?” I ask as my eyes drift over Savannah’s shoulder to her massive mansion.
Savannah mentioned previously that her mom moved to Hawaii a couple of years ago, but the pain her eyes hold when she mentions her dad’s torment indicates his wounds are still fresh. He's still suffering from the loss of his marriage.
Savannah’s warm breath hits my neck when she exhales heavily. “Not good, but we are taking it one day at a time.” The sorrow in her eyes adds to the stabbing pain hitting my chest.
“Do you want me to talk to him?” I offer, panic echoing in my tone.
I doubt I could say anything to ease his burden, but I’m willing to give it a shot. I’ll do anything to lessen Savannah’s distress, even accepting the blame for something that doesn’t belong on my shoulders.
My suggestion has the effect I am aiming for. The anguish clouding Savannah’s eyes weakens as a faint grin tugs at her lips. “No. But thank you for offering.” She runs her hand down my arm, allowing her eyes to issue the remainder of her thanks.
Satisfied I have accepted her praise as intended, she gathers my clothes before handing them to me.
“Please don’t be angry at your mom, Ryan. If she read my letter, she's aware of what happened. I don’t want to add to her pain.”
I scrub my hand along the prickles on my jaw, ignoring the tick spasming there. “Even if I did confront her about your letter, she’d most likely deny its existence. It’s not the first time she’s hidden my dad’s cheating ways. I’m sure it won’t be the last.”
Savannah offers me a comforting smile. Not many people know about my home situation, but Savannah is familiar with my family’s shame.
I know I shouldn’t say shame, but it's embarrassing to admit you have an alcoholic father who hits your mother. And even if you build the courage to admit that out loud, not everyone believes you. The one time I sought help for my family situation, my mom spent a week in the hospital. I haven’t dared say anything since. That was over six years ago. Silence isn’t a solution for anything—but sometimes it's easier this way.
Peering into Savannah’s comforting eyes, I contemplate how to ask my next question without pissing her off. I stammer out, “Is that why you stay with Axel? Because you wish your father had stayed with your mom?”
Savannah doesn’t flinch at my question. She doesn’t even glower. Because she knows as well as I do that Axel is a low-life, cheating scum. But for some reason, she sticks by his side.
Axel’s floundering ways have circulated the rumor mill the entire time they’ve been together. Although I generally brush off rumors without a second thought, I’ve witnessed Axel’s wandering eyes firsthand, proving that some of the rumors are true. He even gave his number to Marnie at Bob’s Burger yesterday afternoon. She threw it in the trash when she saw the pathetic tip he left.
Although Savannah reacted more positively to my question than earlier, her reply still stuns me. "The more time Axel spends with other women, the less time he spends with me. His philanthropy works well for the both of us."
Snubbing my gaped jaw, she leans in to press a kiss to the edge of my mouth. Her lips barely brush mine, but the lower extremities of my body act on the opposite end of the spectrum.
"It's getting late, and I need to prep dinner,” she whispers against my mouth, like she too is struggling to pull away from a kiss that's more innocent than raunchy.
After one last inhale she withdraws from our embrace, then pivots on her heels. I watch her for a few seconds, relishing how many mountains we’ve scaled in an afternoon. We achieved so much in a little under two hours, so imagine the possibilities if we have an entire day?
Just before Savannah enters the cracked-open side door of her home, I call her name, forcing her to spin around.
"Nothing that happened was your fault," I assure her, my tone sincere.
She may think I mean the affair between her mom and my dad, but my tone ensures that won't be the case. She knows I'm referring to everything. Our parents’ affair. Our five-year absence. Axel's cheating ways. None of it's her fault.
Smiling a grin that makes me forget I'm standing in a low-hanging sun, wearing nothing but a pair of wet boxer shorts and a smirk, Savannah replie
s, "I'll see you soon, Ry-Ry."
My smirk turns into a genuine smile. “I hope so, Anna-Banana.”
10
Ryan
My hand rattles when I grip the jewelry box my mom keeps stuffed in the back of her closet. I knew she would have kept Savannah’s letter. She doesn’t throw anything out. Not even a piece of paper that would have torn her heart to shreds.
It has been six days since Savannah told me about the letter she wrote.
Six days of texting back and forth between class.
Six days of hour-long conversations every night.
Six days of building up the courage to seek answers to the questions I don’t feel comfortable asking.
Six days and, in all honesty, this week has been the longest week of my life.
I watched Savannah from afar like I always have, but this week was different; this week I knew better. I know the sneaky smiles she shelters with her golden locks are for me. That the faint wiggle of her fingers when she slipped into the passenger seat of Axel’s car after cheerleading practice Tuesday afternoon was for me. And that the sketch I found under my windshield wipers this morning was from her, because it was a drawing of the red rose I left in her car yesterday afternoon.
Six days of flirting.
Six days of reminiscing.
Six days of regretting she is still his.
After glancing over my shoulder to ensure I’m alone, I place my mom’s family heirlooms back into the far corner of her closet, then move to sit on the edge of my parents’ bed. There isn’t anything overly valuable in the worn wooden box my mom hides like a treasure chest, but she cherishes it more than her own life. It's the only object she has from her past. A reminder of who she was before she fell in love with an abusive man.
God—I wish she would leave him. I'll give her everything I have if she wakes up tomorrow morning and decides she’s had enough. I'll even drive her to the bus stop myself. She has done all she can do here. She raised my brother and me, and although we have an alcoholic father who abuses our mother, we turned out alright. We don't need her to sacrifice any more than she already has. She did her best, and now it’s time for her to move on.
