Her eyes snap open and she pulls back to look deep in my eyes. “You did what?”
“You seem surprised?”
“I am. Tennessee is such a good school. It would get you out of this town and away from these people. You’d be able to start fresh.”
“Why would I want to start fresh when what I have now is everything I want?”
“Beau, this is your future.”
“Cal, I know what we’re talking about, and my future wouldn’t be the same without you in it. I’ve already been talking to Auburn. They want me. If we do well this season, I’m guaranteed in. Auburns is your number one, and you’re a legacy from your parents. You’ll be there in two years and in the meantime it’s only a three-and-a-half-hour drive and I’ll be home whenever you need me. School dances, I’m there. Rough week, I’ll make your weekend worth remembering. This is going to work, Buttercup. I’m make sure of it.”
“Beau Davis, I can’t believe you,” she says cuddling into my chest.
“Yes, you can. I love you, Callie Williams. Forever.” Placing a kiss to the top of her head, I settle in and we watch the sunset turn from orange to pink then finally give way to darkness and the twinkling stars above our heads.
Sitting up in bed, there’s a cold sweat running down my body. I’ve been good over the years at not letting my mind drift to my time here, but since I’ve been back the memories and pain has engulfed me. I swear, I’ve had more dreams about Callie since I arrived than I’ve had in the last couple years.
Sure, the first few years after I left, and even as I made it pro, the dreams became so real that I thought I’d wake up to find her next to me. But after the pain ripped through me more mornings than not to find my bed void of a certain blond, I trained my brain to kick her out. Or at least place her in a box only to be opened on rare occasions.
Clearly, my carefully trained mind isn’t cooperating now that Callie Williams is only blocks away from me. Getting out of bed, I recall yesterday. Seeing Earl and then learning that Callie is getting married. And to fuckin’ Mason. That damn bastard is a snake. He waited in the grass until I left her vulnerable then attacked. I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him.
God, and do I want to throw him.
He’s a prick. Or at least he was when we were in school. I can try to tell myself he’s changed, and he’s become someone honest and loyal and is treating Callie the way she should be treated, but my fear is that zebras can’t change their strips.
“Fuck,” I groan as I punch the marble countertop of my bathroom. As I start the shower and walk in, my mood only plummets further as I think about all the ways in which I’m still a better person than Mason, no matter how much money and class he grew up with.
When I finally emerge from the bathroom and start dressing, the phone still tangled in the sheets starts ringing. Once I find the damn thing, I see that it’s my agent which does nothing for my mood.
“What?” I ask as means of hello.
“Someone’s in a good mood. Alabama not giving you a down home welcome?” the asshole New Yorker asks, as if my making him loads of money makes us friends.
“Is there a point to this phone call?”
“Yeah, actually. You need to get ready for a press junket. I’m going to have a crew sent out to you and you need to promote your season and there is absolutely nothing going on with Coach Dwane. You also need to play nice with the press I send because, in case you forgot, your contract is up after this season and you’ll be up as a free agent.”
“As if you’d let me forget that little fact. You’ve been threatening me with free agent status for the last three years. I’m well aware of what my contract reads, and it says absolutely nothing about this press junket, so I’ll be saying no and fuck off. I’m on a break right now. If you want a press junket you can have one meet me at camps when they resume in June. Fuck you very much,” I say and hang up the phone throwing it back into the pile of sheets. I know my contract is almost up and if I don’t perform well and get my face and name out there, I might not be playing football the season after next. But like hell, do I want to sit in front of a shit ton of cameras and answer questions from pushy ass reporters asking if my best playing years are behind me.
I’m in no mood, but even for a bad mood I was a complete dick to my agent and after I cool off, I know I’ll need to call him and right things. But that’s not now. Maybe after a good, excessively large cup of coffee I’ll be able to get over this mood my memories of Callie have put me in. We had such a bright future ahead of us. I thought I was doing the right thing in letting her go, but I’m not so sure now. Hindsight’s twenty-twenty, right?
Slugging down the steps, I finally stand in front of the Keurig and make myself a cup of the strongest coffee we have. No cream, no sugar, just dark, black liquid caffeine. As the hot fluid hollows the pit of my stomach, I can start to feel the warmth spreading throughout my body and await the energized feeling that always accompanies.
“Morning,” Sterling says as we emerge from his room still in sleep pants and a white tee.
Grunting, I lift my coffee cup back to my lips and let the warmth consume me. I wish he’d slept in a little longer, so I had a chance to kick this mood. He’s my little brother, and he’s never lets anything go—stubborn ass.
“Someone woke up on the bright eyed and bushy tailed this morning. I thought you grew out of your angsty teenage rebellion.”
“I just got off the phone with my agent. He wants me to meet with some jackass reporters to get my ‘brand’ out there for teams looking at taking on any free agents. So, excuse me if I’m in the best mood.”
“Aww, someone worried this might be their last season playing football on the big stage?”
“I don’t give a flying fuck about playing football past this season.”
“Ahh, so this is about a certain someone that might rhyme with rally?”
“If you’re referring to Callie, I saw her and she’s getting married to a dickwad. So, what does that matter?”
“So, you wouldn’t mind coming with me to her wedding in a couple weeks?”
“Fuck you, Sterling. I may not live in this house full-time, but you best remember who pays the bills. You wouldn’t be able to afford any of this shit on your salary. So, if you want to fuck with me some more, I’m liable to forget to pay a bill or two to make you figure it out.” What I said was cruel, but I saw red. I’m in no freakin’ mood and he just up and poked the bear.
“Who cares about the fuckin’ house, Beau. I never asked you to upgrade our lives. I was happy here before you got famous. You were so hell bent on leaving this damn town you forgot when you ran as fast and as far as you could away from Callie, you were running away from Sawyer and me. When Nana got sick, I was the one who had to pick up the slack. I was never the football player you were—hell none of us in high school even came close. But that didn’t matter.” I can see the torment on Sterling’s face as he fights to get the words out. My forehead pinches together, brows furrowing while I take in the rough dose of humble pie my brother is doling out.
“I couldn’t go off to some fancy school on scholarship, because I had a little girl here depending on me. You were gone and I was left with a five-year-old and a senior citizen going senile.” Sterling runs his hand through his short hair before he continues. “Fuck, Beau. I was only seventeen. I’ve been more of a dad to that girl upstairs than any parent we ever had, but she needed you. She needs us both. She’s our little sister, and because it hurt your heart too much to come back, she missed all those years growing up with you. Years that she needed someone besides me to lean on and you weren’t here.” My chest explodes with pain at the reality of what I did. I only ever wanted to help them. I thought getting the house Sterling and I never had would help assuage the guilt I felt for being horrible in high school.