“Jude.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and spoke through clenched teeth. “Get the hell off the floor and get your ass home now. Or there will be hell to pay. Understand?”
“I can’t go to school. Not now when...” I jerked my thumb at the door behind me. Fill in the blanks, Dad. Sad girl was on the other side, maybe crying her heart out and how was I supposed to just leave her like this?
I couldn’t.
I wouldn’t.
“It’s game night. You’re the star quarterback.” Like football was the most important thing at a time like this. “You need to go to school and you need to tough it out. Everyone’s expecting a win tonight.”
Tough it out. My dad’s catchphrase. McCallisters are winners, not quitters. That was his other famous line. Nothing short of victory was acceptable.
If I didn’t go home with him now there really would be hell to pay.
So I took a few deep breaths through my nose then got to my feet. It was a Friday. Game night. And I had no idea how I was going to lead my team to victory after Lila had just lost her mom. But that was what was expected of me.
Every single Friday night during football season I went out on that field and I left it all out there. My blood, my sweat, and my mother’s tears when I got sacked and ended up with a concussion three weeks ago. The following Monday I was right back out there on that field for practice. Because that’s what winners did. They got back in the game no matter what.
Coach expected me to deliver. My teammates expected it. Hell, the whole goddamn town expected it.
But no matter how well I played, my dad would still point out what I could have done better. I always dreaded Saturday morning breakfast because that was when he went through the game, citing play-by-play and pointing out any weaknesses in my game.
Don’t get me wrong. I loved football and I loved my dad. But sometimes he was a hard ass and a taskmaster who demanded nothing less than excellence from me. Tough love, he called it when he had me doing drills at six in the morning on weekends. He was the same with Jesse, who had gotten into motocross this past summer. And the same with Brody’s rodeo competitions.
We had to be the best, and nothing less would suffice.
With Gideon, my dad didn’t know what the hell to do. Gideon hated playing sports. The funny part was that he had a lot of natural ability but he hated the way my dad got all competitive so he half-assed it which always led to arguments and slammed doors.
Now, my dad and I crossed the Turners’ front lawn, the soles of my feet stinging from the cuts I’d gotten on my barefoot jog to her front door.
“What the hell were you thinking, punching Derek?” my dad asked.
He told my dad I punched him? That fucking weasel. “It was a misunderstanding.” He raised his brows, waiting for an explanation. “I thought he was...” I cleared my throat, embarrassed about my assumptions but not entirely sorry for my actions. “... being inappropriate with Lila,” I finished, trying to put it delicately and not paint myself as the world’s biggest asshole. But hey, I was just trying to defend her.
“Ah.” My dad nodded like he understood and said nothing more as we strode up the street to our house, the trees a riot of color, the fall leaves at that point where they were still vibrant orange, and red, and gold just before they withered and died.
Withered and died.
I looked over my shoulder at Lila’s brown-shingled house before we reached the bend in the road and the trees obscured my view. I thought I saw her face in the second-story window, watching me. But most likely she wasn’t thinking about me at all, much less watching me from her window.
“Do you think he was? Is that something I should be worried about?” my dad asked when we reached our front porch. My mom had decorated it with pumpkins and cobwebs and a scarecrow in a straw hat with a plaid shirt under overalls.
“I don’t think so, but I don’t trust the guy.”
“If you notice anything, you tell me, you hear? Don’t take it upon yourself to deal with it on your own. If worse comes to worse, I’ll take care of Derek and we’ll move Lila in here with us.”
Say what? “Can you do that?”
He nodded. “Caroline made provisions in her will. Just in case it became necessary.”
Well, shit. I didn’t know about that and I doubted that Lila did either. But my dad asked me to keep it to myself so I did.
Not that it mattered. Lila ignored me. Went out of her way to avoid me. The seasons came and went and the sad girl found new friends and went to parties with the artsy kids where guys played fucking guitars and girls wore Birkenstocks and didn’t shave their armpits.
Pretty sure she was a lesbian now.
I stopped leaving notes in her locker. I stopped trying to talk to her. Stopped sending texts that went unanswered.
I stopped giving a shit what she did or who she did it with. Which would have all been fucking peachy if only it were true. I missed her spring rain and honeysuckle scent.
I missed the way she kissed me. Like I was her oxygen and she couldn’t breathe without me.
I missed her laugh, low and throaty, and kind of dirty. I missed her smile. All her smiles. The devious ones and the happy ones and the sweet and shy ones.
I missed the way she used to fight me and argue with me.
I fucking missed her but instead of dwelling on it, I hooked up with girls who wanted to be with me. The generically pretty ones with names like Ashleigh and Megan and Kylie. Okay,
