by M. A. Foster
“Woah,” a deep voice says as a big callused hand wraps around my bicep just before I fall on my ass. I hear a mixture of muffled male laughter nearby as I adjust the backpack on my shoulder and tuck my hair behind my ear.
“Sorry about that,” the same voice says as he bends down to retrieve my new class schedule from the floor.
“Thanks.” I take the paper, then move my eyes upward to find familiar ones.
The last time I looked into those eyes, they were red-rimmed and filled with sadness. Today they’re back to their usual bright green with a spark of mischief.
It hadn’t occurred to me that day in the hallway of the hospital that I’d just crossed paths with Willow’s new family.
I was shocked to learn that Willow’s father was a sixteen-year-old high school sophomore, my classmate, and one of the most popular boys in school. I’d always imagined Willow’s father was older, a doctor or someone in the medical field.
Jade had written all about Cole Mackenzie and how they hooked up at a college party. At the time, she didn’t even know his name until he came into Dr. Graham’s office. Not only did she learn his name that day, but also that he was in high school and a Mackenzie. Apparently the Mackenzie name is a big deal, which explains why she was so upset that day. Jade had documented everything: how she went to Cole’s house, confronted him for lying about his age, and his reaction when she told him about Willow. I even found a photocopy of Cole’s patient information sheet folded and tucked in the back of the journal.
Cole Matthew Mackenzie is 16 years old, born June 27th, 1999, black hair, green eyes, 5’10 and still growing, 190 pounds. Wide receiver for the Heritage Bay Hurricanes’ varsity football team, wearing number 15.
And Willow’s father.
Oh, and he’s clear of any STDs and current on his HPV shots.
I can’t say I blame Jade for letting her guard down for one night with Cole Mackenzie. He’s so far beyond hot. His black hair is perfectly styled in a messy, disheveled look. His emerald green eyes rival my own, and his skin is tan and smooth, except for the little bit of scruff on his jaw.
He’s intense and intimidating all at once, and I’m struggling to breathe.
Standing before him and his two friends, Zach Easton and Carter Nixon, who are equally hot, I’m rendered speechless. Zach Easton is at least six feet tall, blond with bright blue eyes. Carter Nixon is about the same height as Cole, with dark brown hair and dark eyes fringed with eyelashes girls pay good money for these days.
Roll your tongue back into your mouth, Harper, and speak.
“Sorry, it’s my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” I smile, hoping for… I don’t know. Recognition? A connection?
But that’s not what happens.
A sly smirk I’ve seen many times, pulls up one side of Cole’s mouth as he winks and then, without another word, turns and walks away with his friends at his side. Carter slaps Cole on the back and says with a laugh, “Nice going, Mackenzie,” while Zach reaches over and ruffles Cole’s perfect hair.
Eighteen months later
“HEY, POPS,” I say as I walk into the house with Willow on my shoulders.
“Hey, Poss,” Willow parrots, and I snort a laugh.
This kid.
When we’re together, she either makes me laugh or she melts my heart. And when I’m not with her, I’m smiling, thinking about all the cute things she does or says.
It’s crazy how much my life has changed. While I still get excited for school holidays, winter break, and summer days, it’s for different reasons. Because it means I get to spend more time with Willow. I never imagined this would be my life, but now I can’t imagine it without her.
“Hey, Lillow,” my dad coos, plucking her from my shoulders and kissing her on the cheek. “What’s my favorite girl been up to today?”
“Co take me da park,” she boasts. Despite the giant swing set in the backyard, my girl loves to go to the park.
The past eighteen months have been a learning experience, to say the least, and a huge wake-up call. There’s no way I could’ve done this alone while going to school and continuing to play football. Being responsible for a tiny human is no joke, and I can honestly say I have a whole new level of respect for my parents.
Going through the motions as Willow grew from an infant to a toddler was horrifying and amazing at the same time. The late-night feedings, the shitty diapers—I’ll never get past the smell—the spit-ups, her first smile—although Mimi said it was her just passing gas—the teething, her first giggle, sitting up, standing up, taking her first step, and then full-on walking.
And then there was the day she called me Dada.
I cried like a little bitch.
It was only one time, but I’ll never forget it.
I’m not sure what role I play in Willow’s eyes, because the responsibilities are shared between me and my parents and Willow is too young to understand the difference.
She calls me Co. Cole. Because that’s what she hears everyone call me, and because it’s my name.
And truthfully, I like it.
She calls my dad Poss. ‘Pops.’ And my mom ‘Mom.’
She’s aware of the pictures of Jade on her dresser. She knows Jade is her mom and that she’s an angel. But she’s too young to understand what happened to her or why she’s not around, and since she’s never met her, she doesn’t miss her. But she likes having her there.
What she does understand is that she’s loved, and she’s happy with all the attention she gets. And I’m good with that.
I’m halfway through my junior year already and, while sometimes I still feel like I’ve let my family down, I think I’ve more than proved to them and myself that I’ve got this. My life consists of football and Willow. I’ve learned routine is important. During football season, our routine is a bit stricter: practice, home, shower, playtime either at home or the park, dinner, bath, then bed—or as she likes to say, ‘I hold you’—which means she wants me to lie with her until she falls asleep. After she falls asleep, I do homework, play on my phone, and am usually out by ten.
In addition to routine, I set a few rules for myself.
No drinking.
No girlfriends.
Not that I was an out of control party animal before, but I was no saint. Since Willow came into the picture, I’ve given up partying.
I’m not celibate or anything—I still get off with an occasional blowjob when I can—but I’ve spent the last eighteen months busting my ass, earning quite a reputation on the field, working toward my dream. There’s no room for any more mistakes. My name is out there and the scouts are watching. My dad expects the offers will be coming sooner rather than later, and I welcome every single one, but I’m not going anywhere without Willow.
I know my dad is worried about me and how my decision to keep her will affect us both when I go to college. I have faith that everything will work out. It’s all I can hope for.
Willow has become my entire world, and everything I do and have done since the day she was born is because I love her. Uncle Marcus told me to be her everything, but really, Willow is my everything.
IT’S BEEN EIGHTEEN months since my life took a sharp left turn in the direction of hell. I spent my entire sophomore year going through the motions while grieving the loss of my family. I missed them so much. I couldn’t understand why life had been so unfair or why everyone I loved had been taken away, leaving me alone to fend for myself. I grieved over my mother, my sister, and Willow.
Every day I sat and stared at the back of Cole Mackenzie’s head, wondering if that would be the day he’d finally get in touch.
He never did.
Then I grieved over the Averys and the father I’ll never get to know. I decided it wasn’t right to disrupt their lives with no proof other than a mention in a letter and a picture. They’d have questions and I didn’t have answers. My father had a life, a family.
Then over the summer, Mia decided she’d had
enough of my moping around.
“Get your ass up, Harper Lane!” she yelled.
“Don’t wanna,” I replied, pulling the pillow over my face.
“Too bad. Get up, get showered, and get dressed. We’re leaving in thirty minutes.”
I raised the pillow from my head. “Where’re we going?”
“You’ll see. Come on, get up. Clock’s ticking.”
Thirty minutes later, I was showered, dressed, and my hair was twisted into a bun on the top of my head.
“Where’s your camera?” Mia asked.
“In my room.”
She nods toward my room. “Grab it and let’s go.”
I ran to my room and grabbed my camera, which used to belong to my mother. She was an art major who taught art to middle schoolers but her passion was photography. I hadn’t used the camera since Jade’s baby shower.
With Mia behind the wheel and me in the passenger seat, we set out on an adventure. First stop, the children’s cancer wing at University Hospital. Cancer is an ugly disease but it couldn’t touch the beauty of their souls. I smiled, I laughed, and I took hundreds of pictures.
Our next stop was the baseball field with a game in progress. Mia pulled two tickets from her wallet and we went inside.
“You want me to take pictures here?” I asked.
“Yes. You’re the photographer. Find the beauty inside this sticky, disgusting”—she wrinkled her nose as she used the tip of her shoe to push her seat down and shuddered—“stadium that smells like popcorn and dirty feet.”
I threw my head back and laughed. “Oh my God, Mia. You’re such a priss.”
She gave me a look. “I am not. I grew up on baseball. My brothers played and my father is actually the baseball coach at Gulf Coast University.”
“Then you should be used to the sticky, disgusting, and popcorn feet smell.”
Mia smirked. “I happen to know why things are sticky, disgusting, and smelly.”
I held up my hand. “Say no more.”
Mia laughed.
I snapped a dozen or so pictures of the game, the players, and even the fans in the stands.
After the seventh inning, Mia was ready to go. We drove another thirty minutes to the beach, where the sun was just getting ready to set.
Mia and I sat side by side and watched the sunset while I snapped a few pictures.
“Did you have a good day?” she asked.
“Yes, actually, I did. A really good day.”
“I’m glad.” She sighed. “I’ve been worried about you. It’s like this past year, you were existing but not living. It’s okay to miss her, Harper. I miss her, too. But you have to snap out of it. You have to start living your life. You’re beautiful and smart and talented. I can’t wait to see those pictures.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course,” she said, reaching over to squeeze my hand.
“Do you know what happened to Willow?”
Although I’ve known all along who Willow belongs to, the subject has never come up. Not since the day we packed up my apartment.
Mia shook her head. “I don’t.”
“Do you think Holly knows?”
“I don’t know.”
“I just want to see her.”
“I know you do, sweetie, and I wish I could help you.”
“Actually, you did.” I lifted my camera to my face, then turned at the last minute and snapped her picture then I turned it on us, leaned my head against hers and snapped another. “Today was one of the best days I’ve had in as long as I can remember.”
That day, I decided to let it all go. Willow was with a good family, and I had no doubts that she was safe, happy, and loved.
Mia is the perfect roommate and friend. She’s in her early twenties, has a good job and goes out a lot. I’d say she’s more a roommate than a guardian. But she’s there when I need her. She gives me my space and the freedom to live my life and all she asks is that I keep up my grades, practice safe sex, don’t drink and drive, and stay out of jail.
Seems fair to me.
I threw caution to the wind and applied for a job at Mac’s, a restaurant down in Pelican Cove that’s owned by the Mackenzies. I told myself that it was because I needed a job and if I happened to see Willow, then it was meant to be. But landing a job at Mac’s is nearly impossible. The turnover is next to never because the place is always busy and the money is good. It’s a waiting game.
By the time I started my junior year, I felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from my shoulders.
Cole and I don’t have any classes together this year, and I’m actually relieved. I don’t think I could take another year of staring at the back of his perfect head. He seems different now. Happier. I wonder if it’s because of Willow, if she’s the reason he’s smiling every morning when he climbs out of his Tahoe. The guy lives and breathes football, so I can’t help but wonder when he makes time for her. I see him in the halls or standing around his locker, laughing with his football friends or flirting with girls, smacking cheerleaders on their asses. Or should I say one cheerleader in particular.
Ashton Grant.
I have a few classes with her. She’s kind of a bitch.
I tried to be different this year, too. To be less of a wallflower. So when my lab partner, Derek, asked me if I wanted to hang out after the football game, I said yes.
Turns out hanging out means hooking up. I had no intentions of losing my virginity that night, but one thing lead to another and when it was over, he got up and left, leaving me feeling sore, confused, and ashamed. And by Monday, I’d already been dismissed. I was just another dumb girl he’d checked off his to-do list.
I switched lab partners and went back to being a wallflower. I was tempted to leave Heritage Bay Academy, but I liked being close to the Averys, even if they didn’t know who I was, so I focused on my grades and indulged in every opportunity to pursue my love of photography.
Now, with only four months left of my junior year, I’m in the top 5 percent of my class, and next year I’ll be in charge of the yearbook committee.
Halsey’s “Gasoline” vibrates on the other side of the dressing room door, pulling me from my thoughts.
I lean toward the mirror to brush on a final coat of mascara.
“How’s it going, beautiful?”
My eyes shift to the reflection of the good-looking, well-dressed man standing behind me. Late twenties, dark brown hair, dark eyes surrounded by thick, lush eyelashes, and a smile so sexy I forget my own name. I love that smile.
“Mr. Casey.” I smirk at him in the mirror. Sliding the mascara brush back inside the tube and twisting the cap, I set it on the vanity before tugging on the ends of the short black wig, turning my head from side to side, making sure there are no stray red hairs.
Joshua Casey is my boss and the owner of JC’s Cabaret and Gentlemen’s Club. It’s typically a hangout for high-profile celebrities, athletes, and wealthy businessmen who pay a shit-ton of money to have beautiful women serve them drinks. And, thank god, there’s no stripping involved.
JC’s is a thirty-minute drive outside Heritage Bay, which made it easier for me to apply for the job. Not that I’m worried about someone recognizing me; I wear a wig, and it’s not like anyone knows me anyway. I’ve been working here for two months now, since Christmas break, and I only work weekends. The money is absolutely ridiculous, even with my part-time schedule.
The day I interviewed, he hired me on the spot and then asked me out. We’ve been seeing each other ever since, though only on the weekends, which is why I can’t wait for school to be out for the summer.
Josh is my first boyfriend, though he doesn’t know it. He makes me happy. He takes care of me, and I don’t mean financially. I make my own money and I pay my own way, even if it’s waiting tables at the club wearing skimpy lingerie. What I mean is that he takes care of me emotionally. He makes me feel special, like I’m the most important person in his life. Like
he loves me. It’s only been a couple months, but I’ve never felt like this before.
Josh moves to stand behind me at the mirror and gently brushes his fingers over my back, causing the fine hairs on my arms to stand.
“I have something for you,” he says, reaching in his pocket and pulling out a key.
Arching a brow, I ask, “What’s that for?”
“I’ll show you tonight. Come to my office after your shift.” He kisses my cheek. “Have a good night, Jade.”
CARTER APPEARS AT the locker beside mine, twisting the combination into the lock before popping the door open.
“You good?” he asks in a low voice before looking over his shoulder and then back to me. “You look like shit.”
I feel like shit. “Fuck no,” I reply, closing my locker and leaning my shoulder against it while I wait for him. “I’ve been dreading this for nearly two years.”
Last night, Emerson called to inform us that hospice would be coming today and time was running out, so we need to be prepared. The thought of saying goodbye to Uncle Marcus makes me physically ill. I barely slept a wink last night, and I’ve been on autopilot ever since I got up this morning. I don’t even remember driving to school.
“How’s your cousin doing?” he asks, concerned.
“Emerson said Jay isn’t taking this well at all. Her therapist is there, but Jay won’t speak to her or anyone else, just Marcus.”
Carter shuts his locker and we make our way to the dining room. “Have you told Zach yet?”
I shake my head. “I haven’t had the chance to get him alone. He’s got his head up Reagan’s ass.”
Carter chuckles. “Aww, is Coley jealous of Reagan?” he coos, dodging my fist. “Missing your BFF?”
“I’m not jealous.” I slug him in the arm and he laughs. “I just think he can do better.”
“I thought he was obsessed with Jay?”
“No, he’s in love with Jay.” I laugh. The whole family knows it, too. Zach thinks I don’t know about his feelings for Jay, but it’s obvious when he gets a dopey love-struck look on his face whenever there’s mention of her. “But it does him no good when she lives on the other side of the country,” I add. “He’s got half the girls in school panting after his dumb ass, including the seniors, and he picks Reagan Vaughn.” I shake my head, disappointed.