Unwrap My Heart
Copyright © 2019 by Heather Dowell & Victoria Anders
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author.
Cover design and interior formatting:
Stephanie Anderson, Jera Publishing
jerapublishing.com
Editing:
Caitlin Hayes, Functionally Fiction
functionallyfictional.com
Published by:
Unicorn Nightporium
unicornnightporium.com
Contents
Zain
Brayleigh
Zain
Brayleigh
Zain
Brayleigh
Zain
Brayleigh
Zain
Brayleigh
Zain
Brayleigh
Zain
Brayleigh
Zain
Brayleigh
Zain
Brayleigh
Zain
Brayleigh
Zain
Brayleigh
Zain
Brayleigh
Zain
Brayleigh
Zain
Brayleigh
Zain
Brayleigh
Zain
Brayleigh
Zain
Brayleigh
Zain
Brayleigh
Zain
Brayleigh
Zain
Brayleigh
Zain
Brayleigh
Zain
Brayleigh
Zain
Brayleigh
Sebastian
Brayleigh
Chapter 1
“Time!” Fourteen seconds left, and we’re down by two against the number one team in the state, our archrivals, Towne Lake.
“This is the defining moment of the season,” Coach Woods says. “We’re going to beat them in overtime in their own gym.” He draws circles and lines on his dry-erase board.
Coach looks at me. “Abner, get the ball to Johnson.” He points to Theo. “You’ve got four inches on the guy. Easy layup to tie the game.”
He comes back to me. “Abner, if they double team Johnson like they’ve been doing, use your instincts and find the best play to even the score. Leave them no time to respond. Don’t try to be a hero and go for the three-pointer.”
I rush to the court with my two best friends and fellow seniors: Theo Johnson and Sebastian Rodgers.
Friends since kindergarten.
Winning this game puts us at number one in the region and in the top bracket for our upcoming tournament. Something we didn’t know was possible at the beginning of the season.
Sebastian throws the ball to me from the sideline, and I dribble over half-court, considering my options.
Ten seconds left.
Theo is double-teamed. With a subtle shake of his head, he tells me he’s not feeling it. Sebastian is open on the three-point line, but he’s not the person I trust to make the final shot. It’s got to be Theo or me. No one else can do it.
I dribble toward the basket as one of Theo’s defenders charges me. I jump and hang then pass the ball over his head to Theo. Theo’s remaining defender leaps, tipping the ball, and it lands right in Sebastian’s hands.
Don’t take the shot. Don’t take the shot.
Seven seconds.
Sebastian takes the shot. And it hits the rim. Theo, with his six-six frame, vaults over the defenders and grabs the rebound, passing the ball back out to me.
Four seconds.
Sebastian has been off all night. Theo is covered up. The two juniors out here aren’t in good positions.
I’ve spent hours upon hours in my driveway taking this shot over and over. Perfecting my release. I lead the region and hold the school record in three-pointers.
I’m the man for the job.
Two seconds.
Sorry, Coach. I have no choice. I’m ending this now—one way or the other.
Pushing through my heels, I spring, drop my elbow, and release the ball at the top of my jump.
Swish.
The buzzer sounds.
Sweaty players pile on top of me. Someone steps on my hand, and someone else knees me in the nuts. But I don’t care.
We won.
The gym is silent except for the few parents who made the hour-trek to Towne Lake. And the twenty or so Merryville High students cheering and running onto the court to celebrate with us.
Sebastian’s girlfriend, and my good friend, Brayleigh, slaps me on the back then bear hugs Sebastian. Theo’s flavor of the week jumps into his waiting arms.
Farren, my girlfriend, sits in the stands, smacking her gum and twirling her long, brown hair. She gives me a quick wave and starts scrolling through her phone.
Thanks for the love.
I walk to our bench and put away our gear while everyone else continues to celebrate.
Theo’s still lip-locked with his girl—Riley, maybe? Her pale body is draped over his tan skin. I give it one more week tops. Theo doesn’t settle down.
Bray and Sebastian are nose to nose. A little devil known as jealousy slithers up my throat.
I swallow it down and look for Farren again. She’s standing in the aisle, donning a scarf and coat, irritation painted on her face. I can hear her in the car already. I saw you staring at her again. Just admit it.
At what point did we get here? Yes, she comes to every game, but she has to. If her father wasn’t the coach, I’m sure she’d hang out with her friends or go early to whoever’s house is hosting the gathering—ready to get her drink on. Two years together, and we head in opposite directions every day. The distance between us vastly spans. Pretty soon, she’s going to be on Pluto.
“Party at my house,” Devin Dawson announces as the small crowd disperses.
Oh, great. I know where Farren wants to be after this. So much for an evening curled up together watching a movie, the only way, as of late, I prefer to unwind after an intense game.
Since I turned eighteen last month, the party scene no longer appeals to me. Too many days spent hovering over the porcelain throne while my dad lectures me on drinking.
“Sebastian’s such a flirt.” Farren snaps a picture of him leaning toward a junior girl whose name I don’t remember. The girl loops her arm through his, and his smile grows wider. “Brayleigh snoozes and loses.”
“Don’t be a bitch. Bray has an early curfew. And delete that picture.” I reach for her phone, but she runs to the other side of the kitchen island. She’s always trying to get under Bray’s skin.
Farren holds her phone up, shaking it. “Too bad Brayleigh doesn’t have a cell phone. Otherwise, I’d hit send right now.”
Sebastian’s still deeply in tune with the junior girl. I don’t think he’d ever cheat on Bray. They’ve been together for a year now. He’d be stupid if he did. But up until our junior year, Sebastian had a history of being a womanizer, and I’ve seen him chug several beers over the past hour.
Farren’s high-pitched whine draws my attention. “Make me a drink.” She tosses a red solo cup that hits me on the forehead.
I walk around the counter and put it at the top of a towering stack that’s a cup or two away from toppling over. “I think you’ve had enough. And plea
se, delete that picture. Just because you don’t like Bray, doesn’t mean you have to poke fun at her.”
She presses her body to mine and runs her hand down my chest. “Why are you always trying to defend her?”
“She’s my friend. And she’s nice.”
And she’s hot. And I’ve had a crush on her ever since I met her. But she’s dating my best friend, and that’s just not somewhere I’m capable of going. And there’s this problem I can’t seem to get rid of who’s right in front of me.
Farren bats her baby-blue eyes, and her hand lingers along the waistband of my sweats. “Please, make me a drink? I’ll delete the picture.”
I resist the urge to wrap my arm around her waist and pull her in, knowing she’d move her hand lower if I did. It’s not a strong urge, so it’s easy to ignore. She’s a mean, bitchy drunk, even more annoying than her normal, non-intoxicated self.
Releasing her, I grab a cup and mix an overly sweet concoction of lemon-lime soda, orange juice, and a minuscule splash of green liquor. She’s already had enough.
Yanking the cup from my hand, she turns and runs into Theo, spilling half her drink on his Knights basketball tee, and lands on the ground. “Asshole,” she slurs.
“Bitch,” he responds. He grabs the cup from her double grip and places it on the counter then holds his hands out in offering.
“I don’t need your help.” Her attempt to stand is futile. Thump. She lands on her butt again.
Theo waves his hand two inches from her eyes, and she finally caves to his chivalry.
“You’re welcome,” he says as she makes her way to the living room, where furniture has been pushed aside to create a make-shift dance floor.
She turns her head back to Theo as she begins moving to a beat that definitely isn’t the rhythm of the electronic dance music playing.
“I’m not thanking you.” She flips him the bird and starts dancing with his girl.
It’s so much fun when both of my best friends don’t really care for my girlfriend. Hell, I wonder why I care for her on nights like this.
An hour later, I can no longer pretend I’m awake. I drag a gyrating Farren to my Jeep Cherokee.
I hope Coach is already asleep when I get her home. Otherwise, he might be even more pissed than when I took the winning three-point shot.
“That wasn’t the plan, Abner,” he said. “You’re lucky you made it.” Then on the way to Devin’s house, Farren was like a recording when she started in on me about it and called me selfish. At least her bitching tells me she was paying attention to the game and not who has the most likes on Instagram.
“I wasn’t done dancing,” Farren says as I lift her onto my passenger seat.
“Your dad called an early-morning practice tomorrow. I need at least some sleep.” I shut her door as she starts scrolling through her phone.
Her laughter echoes through the vehicle when I open my door. “The photo I posted of Sebastian cozying up to Hannah has two hundred likes and thirty comments.”
And this is why the desire to break up with Farren is so strong. She loves drama. She creates drama. She is freaking drama.
With a cocked jaw and narrowed eyes, I say, “You were supposed to delete it.”
She pulls out a silver wrapper from the console then climbs over to me, lifting her dress and tugging down my sweats.
And this is one of two reasons why I have yet to break up with her.
Chapter 2
First thing in the morning, and it smells like cinnamon when Percy opens my bedroom door and Beth and Izzy enter after him.
Beth carries a white, frosted cake with eighteen lit candles to my bedside, and Izzy takes pictures with a Polaroid camera.
My little brother, Milo, pounces on me and clutches my long, auburn hair. “Rarr!”
No need to make a wish when I blow out the candles. Milo and I are together. That’s all I need. Him in green, dragon footie pajamas, brown hair every which way, and dry icing on his cheeks, and me wrestling my wavy locks from his five-year-old hands.
Two years ago, the best fosters we ever had decided they didn’t want me anymore, so I got shoved around until I landed with the Schneiders and Izzy Frost last December. Their other foster had cut ties, breaking Beth’s heart, so I begged Percy to convince Milo’s social worker to reunite us. It took time and lots of paperwork, but we got him.
I’ll never forget our year apart. Every day, I prayed he wouldn’t forget me. He’d already forgotten Mom, which Dad and I were grateful for. But when Dad went to prison, it was sad to not have Milo remember him.
The first week back with Milo was strange. We had to recement our sibling bond. After that, I vowed to never leave him again, and I’ve done horrible acts to keep it.
Everyone sings Happy Birthday as I sit up and kiss Milo’s chubby cheeks.
“Make a wish, Brayleigh,” Beth says, candlelights swaying in her soft eyes.
Wish? Fat chance of my wishes coming true, but what the heck. There’s one thing I want, or rather, don’t want, so I wish for that to never happen again when I blow out almost all eighteen candles with one breath. Milo blows out the last one.
“So,” Izzy says, “What’d you wish for?”
“If I tell you, it won’t come true.”
She rolls her eyes and hands me the picture she took.
“Hey, my mouth was open!”
Her fingers comb through her short, straight, brown hair. “You should see my bedtime photo collection. I’m calling it Fifty Snores of Bray.”
I move my comforter. “Beth, I thought you banned her from photographing us in our sleep after she—”
“Ew, don’t remind me,” Izzy says.
The day she and Beth had the privacy conversation was the day Izzy unknowingly photographed Beth and Percy having sex. She wedged the door open, snapped, and ran. It wasn’t until she waved the photo and the image became clear that anyone knew she’d taken it. Her bloody-murder scream gave it away.
“I don’t know,” Percy says. “Beth might want more memorabilia.”
His voice causes a shiver to run down my spine.
Beth shifts, making the cake unsteady. I take it from her.
I’ve had several foster parents these past four years, but none have been as young or kind as Beth. When she found out she couldn’t get pregnant, Percy agreed to foster. They took in Izzy when she was nine along with a twelve year old no one talks about. She left a few months before I came, and I’m confident I know why.
The first time I saw the Schneiders, I thought I’d hit the jackpot. Cool parents in their mid-thirties. Beth biked with Izzy and me every night after dinner and let us pick movies to watch in her bedroom when Percy would inevitably commandeer the living room TV.
I even thought Percy was hot at first. A charming guy in his prime, lean and tall with a chiseled chin and blond hair, who endlessly flirted with Beth like she was his only source of oxygen. Feeling her up every time her hands were full. She’d laugh and tell him to stop. Then he’d grin at me like a sexual comedian in need of applause. It took one incident for my infatuation to go away. Merryville High boys, especially one Sebastian Rodgers, are where I want my affection thrown.
My stomach rumbles. “Is this carrot cake?”
“Without the carrots,” Percy says. “I sifted them out.”
“Thanks.”
And this is why someone as nice as Beth married Percy. She sees these moments of kindness and thinks wow, I married such a kind guy. I’d hate to see her lose her innocence the way I did.
We go to the kitchen to have cake for breakfast, and everyone sits on stools at the island.
“Let us pray,” Percy says, offering one hand to me and the other to Izzy.
I gag inside. This is why I don’t believe in God. People like Percy walk around with their big smiles and mangy cock
s, and nothing bad ever happens to them. Then there’s me, born into bad. If there’s a God, He’s got a sick sense of humor.
Percy’s knuckles graze my breast as he prays. I try to pull his hand away, but it doesn’t budge until he says amen and everyone opens their eyes.
If carrot cake without the carrots wasn’t my favorite dessert, I’d bail on breakfast to get away from him. But I’m too used to these violations to show a reaction.
For my silence, I get Milo. Without it, Percy would send him away. And if that wasn’t enough, he’d use Izzy the way he uses me.
A girl like me knows no other life. Abuse—sexual, physical, emotional—has always been an issue. A girl like Izzy? It’d destroy her.
Izzy scrapes off her cream cheese icing and dumps it onto Milo’s plate for him to eat by the spoonful.
Milo cheers and shoves the blob into his mouth.
“So, any birthday plans?” Percy winks at me.
I swallow eggnog at the recurring nightmare of him naked. If there’s a God, He should strike Percy down when he winks. “Going to the Jingle Jam with Sebastian.”
Percy scrunches his nose. “Why do you spend so much time with that boy?”
Jealous, much?
“It’s her birthday,” Beth says, sliding me a five dollar bill. “Besides, he’s a good kid.”
“Sebastian’s hot,” Izzy says, flipping her hair.
I roll my eyes. “He’s too old for you.”
“I’ve been with older.”
Percy’s tongue swipes over his lips like a snake’s.
Ice encapsules me like a wooly mammoth. Izzy’s been with older? She shouldn’t be with anyone. She’s sixteen and hardly developed.
Izzy curls a strand of hair around her finger, looking at Percy under her lashes.
Bile rises to my throat. My stomach twists, and not in the nauseating way it’s been doing every day for the past month. It’s a hard knot. I can’t breathe.
This wasn’t part of our deal. Bastard! I want to get up and choke him, let him see what it’s like to hardly breathe, to be afraid of someone he thought had no power.
Used to her tactics to get a reaction, Izzy’s words don’t phase Beth.
Izzy’s walking a tight rope with her flirtation and doesn’t realize Percy’s ready to pull the safety net out from under her.
Unwrap My Heart Page 1