“Fuck you, D.” I chuckled. Of course I knew Mya was too good for me. But she was mine, and I didn’t plan on giving her up for anything.
“I’m just busting your balls, she’s a good girl. One of the best. She volunteering again at the center this semester?”
“Yeah, her field practice isn’t until senior year, so she’ll want to get all the hands-on experience she can.”
“She’s a better person than me. Some of those little punks would be cruising for a bruising with the way they talk to the staff there.”
“It's what she wants to do,” I said as if was that simple. And in a way, it was. But Diego was right, the New Hope Community Center worked with some of the most challenging kids living in and around Strawberry Mansion.
“Don’t you ever worry about her being there?”
“What kind of question is that, D? Of course I fucking worry. She’s my...” Everything.
Mya was my everything.
But she wanted to make a difference. She wanted to try to break the cycle of crime, drugs, and poverty so many of the kids in Philly found themselves in. It was important to her.
“It’s not the nineteen-fifties,” I said. “Women don’t want to stay at home, raise the kids, and play Suzy Homemaker.”
“Hey, my momma did just that and she’s one of the best women I know.” His eyes lit up with fondness.
Diego’s mom was a great woman. I’d met her last year, when she’d showed up with Pastel de Elote for the team.
“Mya wants to make a difference,” I said unsure who I was trying to convince more, myself or Diego.
“I hear ya, man. All I’m saying is, it’s a crazy world out there. Don’t think I’d ever rest knowing my girl was in the thick of it.”
My brows furrowed. He made it sound like Mya was going off to war.
But in some ways, she was.
The world needed people like Mya. People willing to put themselves on the line and advocate for those without a voice.
I was proud of her—so fucking proud.
But part of me would always worry. Because that’s what you did when you loved someone.
Asher
“Looking good, Bennet,” Coach yelled across the field as I ran drills with Diego and a hulk of a guy called Brian. “Run it again.”
Our offensive line got into position, moving toward us like a well-oiled machine. I broke formation, tracking the wide receiver and making the lunge. Our bodies collided with a thud and we went down.
“Fuck, Bennet, you knocked the wind right out of my sails,” Farrow said.
“Hell yeah, I did.” I clambered up and offered him a hand up.
“Okay, hit the showers,” Coach said, “you’re done for the day.”
I pulled off my helmet, dragging in a lungful of fresh air.
“You’re looking good out there, bro,” Diego said approaching me. We fist bumped but his eyes flickered over my shoulder. “You have company.”
I turned to find Mya sitting in the bleachers. A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. “I’ll catch you in a bit.”
He rolled his eyes, but I was already gone, heading in her direction.
“Hey,” she said, coming down onto the field.
“This is a surprise.” I kissed her cheek.
“I had a free period. I wanted to come and see you in action.”
“Oh yeah? I thought football players didn’t do it for you?” My voice was teasing.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Mya came closer, trailing a finger up my dirty jersey. “One football player caught my attention.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, number six. He’s looking—”
I grabbed her and started tickling her sides. “You want a piece of Farrow? I’ll see if I can hook you up.”
Her laughter wrapped around me like a warm blanket. “Okay, okay, you got me.”
I eased up and leaned in to brush my nose over hers. “What are you really doing here?”
A knowing smile lifted the corner of her mouth. “Sally called. They need an extra hand tonight. They've got some new kids and want all hands on deck. I said I’d be there.”
“Okay. Just be careful, okay?”
“Always.” Mya kissed me.
“What time will you get done?”
My body stirred to life at her proximity. I was going to have a serious case of blue balls if she was going to be home late.
“I don’t know. I wouldn’t think any later than nine.”
“Enough time for you to come home and show me just how much you like football players then?” I smirked as my hands dipped around to her ass.
“Behave.”
“With you? Never. I should probably go before Coach chews me out. But text me later?”
She nodded, taking a step backward. “Love you.”
“I love you more.” So fucking much.
I headed for the gym unable to hide the shit-eating grin lifting the corners of my mouth.
Yesterday had been rocky there for a moment, but everything had righted itself in the end. We’d had some of the best sex of my life. A new season was looming, and the team was looking stronger than ever. And I had a full schedule of classes I couldn’t wait to get stuck into.
Life was great.
But there was still a small part of me that thought Mya underestimated just how much I loved her. I knew she wanted to stay in the city after graduation, and I knew she assumed I’d want to return to Rixon and help my old man with the company.
But she was wrong.
I just had to figure out a way to show her just how serious I was about our future together.
Mya
“Hey, sorry I’m late.” I ran a hand through my hair and gave Sally, the New Hope Community Center coordinator, a big smile. “Tell me where you want me, and I’ll jump straight in.”
“We had some new kids signposted to the program, three brothers. They recently got placed into foster care. “The elder two, Jay and Mario are a little uncertain, but I’ve paired them up with Pat and Hershel.”
“And the youngest?”
“Hugo, he’s only six. His file says he’s been a selective mute for the last two years.”
My heart clenched. I’d seen a lot during my time volunteering with New Hope. It ran a Big Brothers, Big Sisters style program for kids in the foster care system, but instead of one-to-one activities, it operated at a community level. They held weekly sessions, and monthly group events, as well as providing ongoing support to the foster families and their charges.
“Here.” Sally thrust a file at me. “It makes for difficult reading. Hugo is ready and waiting when you are.”
I sat down on the leather bench in her office and flicked open the file.
Hugo Garcia aged six. Two siblings, Jay, aged eleven, and Mario, aged fourteen. Father unknown, mother known to authorities since Mario was just three, after she started turning tricks to make ends meet. A history of narcotic use, neglect, and poor school attendance.
“Jesus,” I breathed, trying to get a hold on my emotions. No matter how many case files I read, it never got any easier.
“Jay and Mario have friends, they were able to get out of the house, but Hugo...” Sally’s voice trailed off.