by L A Cotton
But two years was nothing. Once we threw ourselves into classes and the football season, junior year would pass us by in the blink of an eye, and we’d be one step closer to making the big decisions.
“Hey, Mya,” Bella beckoned me over. “How are you... after, you know...”
“I’m good, thanks.”
She nodded. “Have you seen Faith yet?”
“No, but honestly, it’s not a big deal. She’s entitled to her opinions, so long as she doesn’t keep trying to—”
Bella widened her eyes and I turned just in time to greet Faith. “Hey,” she said around a sheepish smile. “Can we talk for a second?”
“I’ll just...” Bella left us to it.
“I’m sorry about last night. I had no right to—”
“No, you didn’t,” I said flatly. “Mine and Asher’s relationship is just that, Faith, ours. I won’t justify my decisions to you, and I don’t expect you to judge me for my actions, the way I won’t judge you for yours.”
“You’re right, you’re totally right.” She ran a hand through her silky red hair. “I’m just trying to be more in control of my life and sometimes it spills out. It won’t happen again, I promise.”
“Good.”
“Did you find Asher?”
“Yeah.”
“He probably hates me now, huh?”
“He doesn’t hate you, Faith. He just doesn’t understand you sometimes. Max was a good guy. I know you two had your differences, but I think the poem threw Ash for a loop.”
“I can see that. To be honest, I think the poem was less about Max and more about me and the pressure and expectations I put on myself.”
“You’ll get there, Faith. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
I wanted to graduate and become a social worker, but not the same way Faith wanted it. She lived and breathed it, out to prove to everyone that she could make it. Her tenacity was inspiring, but I also wondered if it was impacting on her personal life. Asher hadn’t been wrong, Max was a great guy. Solid and dependable with plans for the future. Most girls dreamed of meeting a guy like that. But not Faith, she’d run the second things got too serious.
“You’re a good friend, Mya.” She took my hand in hers. “Asher’s lucky to have you.” There was something in her eyes that looked a lot like regret, but I didn’t ask.
Faith needed to work things out for herself.
“Come on,” I said. “We should get to class.”
Asher
“You made a quick exit last night,” Diego said as we worked out next to each other.
“Yeah, we had shit to take care of.”
“I bet you did.” He shot me a knowing grin and I managed to flip him off.
“You know you’re punching above your weight with Mya, right?”
“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 c
ouldn’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.
“It says here he likes football.”
She nodded. “Came in clutching a stuffed Eagles mascot.”
“I can work with that.” At least, I hoped I could.
“If anyone can reach him, Mya, it’s you.”
Her words touched something inside me. All I wanted was to make a positive difference on the lives of the kids I encountered, so to have my mentor say that was everything.
I left Sally and went to find Hugo, spotting him the second I stepped into the main hall. A small kid with a head full of brown, curly hair, he watched the other kids and volunteers play a game of hacky sack.
I grabbed a soft football out of the box and made my way over to him. “Mind if I sit here?”
His silence and lack of eye contact spoke volumes. Instead, Hugo gave me a half-shrug and shifted along the bench.
“I’m Mya. I was hoping we could hang out.”
More silence. But I didn’t let it faze me. You had to have thick skin to work with these kids. Kids who had seen and experienced things no kid ever should.
“Is that Swoop?” I motioned to the tatty stuffed eagle in Hugo’s hands. He was clutching onto the thing so tight I was surprised it hadn’t ripped clean in two.
But he didn’t respond.
“I’m not a huge fan, but my boyfriend plays for a college team. He’s pretty good.”
Hugo glanced at me, his stare so dull and lifeless it twisted my insides.
What had this poor kid seen to make him choose not to communicate? To build walls so high he didn’t know how to break through them? To choose isolation and solace over comfort and security?
“His name is Asher, he plays defense.”
Hugo averted his gaze again, and the seed of hope that had flourished in my chest withered and died. But I’d keep pushing. Slowly and surely, I’d prove to this six-year-old with pain in his eyes that he could trust me.
Two weeks and three more sessions later, Hugo still refused to talk. He barely engaged in sessions, choosing to color or read a book in silence. His brothers had flourished, although Jay preferred the physical activities laid on by the center while Mario preferred the more creative ones.
“There you are.” Asher looped his arms around me and pulled me against his chest as I added milk to my cereal.
“Sorry. I couldn’t sleep.”
He made me drop the spoon and turned me in his arms. “The kid?” His brows furrowed.
“He’s just so... sad. It breaks my heart.”
“Babe, we talked about this. You can’t fix every kid who comes through the doors.”
“I know.” I bristled. “But you haven’t seen him, Ash. He just sits there, completely closed off. I’ve spent almost ten hours with him, and he hasn’t said a single word to me.”
It was no time in the grand scheme of things, but it was the first time I’d worked with a selective mute before. It was hard not to let my own frustrations bleed over.
“You promised you wouldn’t get too involved.”
“I’m not,” I snapped a little too harshly, and Asher arched a brow. “Sorry, I just—”
“You care, I get it. But some of these kids have experienced enough trauma to warrant a lifetime of therapy. You said he was getting professional support?”
I nodded. “Someone has been working with him at school. But so far, nothing.”
“Know what I think?” He leaned down, touching his head to mine.
“What?”
“The little guy will talk when he’s good and ready.”
“I wish it were that simple.” My shoulders sagged.
“Maybe he just needs a reason to talk.”
“What do you mean?” It was my turn to frown.
“Maybe he needs some motivation, and I’m not talking getting a sticker or lollipop at the end of a session with the school shrink.”
“Like a bribe?”
“Let’s call it gentle persuasion.”
“Actually,” I said, an idea forming. “You might be onto something.”
“Yeah?” Asher grinned. “And here was me thinking I was talking complete crap.”
“There’s this intervention a lot of schools use called the ‘mystery motivator’. I might be able to adapt it.”
“Sounds good. You said he likes football, right? Maybe we could arrange something once the season starts? Bring the kids out to a training session or even a game.”
“You’d do that for them?”
“For you, babe. I’d do it for you.” He kissed the end of my nose.
Ideas started firing off in my head. The only time Hugo even looked remotely interested in me was when I’d mentioned my boyfriend played college football. I’d tried to incorporate football into our activities and conversations as much as I could without coming on too strong. It was important to go at Hugo’s pace, to gradually earn his trust.
“I’ll talk to Sally and see what she thinks. Thank you.” I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him. Asher grew hard against my stomach, and I eased back to look at him. “Seriously?” I smirked.
“What? My dick just so happens to be very, very attracted to you.”
“Well, I hate to be a buzz kill…” I let my mouth linger on his, running my tongue over the seam of his lips. “But I have an early class.” Slipping out from between Asher and the counter, I grabbed my bowl and sashayed away.
“You’re killing me, Hernandez,” he called after me.
“Love you too,” I replied around a smile.
Because I did.
I loved Asher the way the stars loved the night.
Unconditionally.
Irrevocably.
Endlessly.
Asher
“Bennet, get in here, son,” Coach Johnson called as I passed his office.
“What’s up, Coach?”
“Just checking in. Wanted to see how you’re feeling about the upcoming season?”
“I feel good, sir. The team
is looking strong. I think we might have a real shot going into the playoffs.”
“I agree. That kind of attention will bring scouts. You’re a junior now, son. It’s time to make some decisions about your future.”
“Already made them, sir.”
“I thought you might say that.” He rubbed his jaw. “But I’d hoped to convince you to reconsider. When scouts come knocking, I’d really like your name on their list.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, sir. Going pro isn’t in my plans.”
“Well, shucks, Bennet. Never thought I’d see the day a talented young man such as yourself would give up a shot at the big leagues for a woman.”
“She’s not just any woman, sir.” A smirk played on my lips.
“No, son, I guess she’s not.” There was no malice in his expression; just mild disappointment, and a shit ton of respect.
“I’m sorry it wasn’t the answer you’d hoped for, Coach.”
“Me too, son. Me too. Now get out of here.”
I gave him a nod and walked out of there. I knew the guys wouldn’t understand, but it wasn’t their life.
Back in senior year, at high school, I’d watched my mom almost die from a bullet meant for me. I’d watched the fear in my old man’s eyes as he held the one woman who had always stood by his side, despite his flaws—and he had many. I’d made a promise to myself that day if Mya ever gave me a second chance—which she had—I would never do anything to jeopardize that.
Mya wanted a career, she wanted to make a difference. Her plans didn’t include being with an NFL football player. And I didn’t want anything that didn’t include her. I wanted roots, a life together. I didn’t want to be thrust into a world of football and fame.
Exiting the gym, I pulled out my cell and scrolled to my dad’s number.
“Asher, this is a surprise,” he said.
“Hey, Dad. I was hoping we could talk.”
“Is everything okay, Son? You sound—”
“Everything’s great. There’s just some stuff I need your help with.”
“Okay.” He took a breath. “You want to talk about it now or should I drive up there?”