by Shey Stahl
Table of Contents
Saving Barrette
Copyrights
Connect with Shey
Books by Shey
Quote
Warning
Part 1
Chapter 1: Welcome Home – Asa
Chapter 2: The Night We Met – Barrette
Chapter 3: What I wouldn’t give - Asa
Chapter 4: I thought I knew – Barrette
Chapter 5: What I didn’t do – Asa
Chapter 6: The night I don’t remember – Barrette
Chapter 7: What she didn’t do – Asa
Part 2
Chapter 8: Living in darkness - Barrette
Chapter 9: Downward spiral to nowhere – Barrette
Chapter 10: What I wish I could save – Asa
Chapter 11: Distractions – Asa
Chapter 12: Lost in the light – Barrette
Chapter 13: My heads not in it – Asa
Chapter 14: A new reason to be happy – Barrette
Chapter 15: The night I can’t shake – Barrette
Chapter 16: My defensive line – Asa
Chapter 17: A mood I can’t shake – Barrette
Part 3
Chapter 18: A devastating discovery – Asa
Chapter 19: Shock and awe - Barrette
Chapter 20: A storm he prepared for – Asa
Chapter 21: What she didn’t tell me – Asa
Chapter 22: The night I said no – Barrette
Chapter 23: Boundaries – Barrette
Chapter 24: Where we go from here – Asa
Chapter 25: A new kind of reality – Barrette
Chapter 26: QB1 – Asa
Chapter 27: Off Campus – Asa
Chapter 28: What you don’t hear about – Barrette
Chapter 29: An unexpected visitor – Barrette
Chapter 30: Moving on – Barrette
Chapter 31: The Call – Asa
Epilogue: The life we deserved – Barrette
Acknowledgments
Meet the Author
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Copyright © 2019 by Shey Stahl
Saving Barrette
Printed in the United States of America
All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of Shey Stahl.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, dead or living, is coincidental. Certain phrases, quotes, sections and/or lines from my previous works.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, bands, sponsors, and/or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Copy Editing: Becky Johnson, Hot Tree Editing
Cover Image: Sara Eirew
Cover Designer: Sommer Stein, Perfect Pear Creations
Formatting and Graphics by A Designs
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RACING ON THE EDGE
HAPPY HOUR
BLACK FLAG
TRADING PAINT
THE CHAMPION
THE LEGEND
HOT LAPS
THE ROOKIE
FAST TIME
OPEN WHEEL
PACE LAPS
DIRT DRIVEN (TBA)
BEHIND THE WHEEL (TBA)
THE REDEMPTION SERIES
THE TRAINER
THE FIGHTER
REDEMPTION (BOX SET WITH BONUS MATERIAL)
STAND ALONES
WAITING FOR YOU
EVERYTHING CHANGES
DEAL
ALL I HAVE LEFT
AWAKENED
EVERLASTING LIGHT
BAD BLOOD
HEAVY SOUL
BAD HUSBAND
BURN
SHADE
LOVE COMPLICATED
TILLER
UNTAMED
HOW TO DEAL
PROMISE NOT TO FALL
BLINDSIDED
REVEL
SEX. LOVE. MARRIAGE
SAVING BARRETTE
CROSSING THE LINE
DELAYED PENALTY
DELAYED OFFSIDES
THE TORQUED TRILOGY
UNSTEADY
UNBEARABLE
UNBOUND
Warning: This novel contains scenes that might be a trigger for those who have been victims of sexual assault.
June
Boston Harbor, Washington
I’ve never liked Washington. Rain, cold, clouds, wind… it’s fucking depressing. At least the summers are enjoyable. I prefer my home town of Massillon, Ohio. And though this small-town of Boston Harbor could be considered my home, too, it’s not really. I only lived here for six years.
The only reminder or appeal this place holds are the summers. Blue sky, soaring pine trees, and this marina. The one where I met a girl. It always goes back to a girl, doesn’t it?
I look out the window to the marina and I can still pinpoint the exact place I met her, between the docks where my dad moored his boat. On the water, kayaks, paddleboards, and boats litter the marina. Amongst them, my dad’s forty-foot Fly Absolute yacht stands out.
Way to blend in, Dad.
Laughter floats through the marina, its sound carrying through the open window in my room. I draw in another deep breath. I don’t want to be here, but I also don’t have much of a choice.
Sighing, I look around my bedroom. Not much has changed since I left, but then again, everything has changed. Boxes line the wall, my suitcase on the bed and in it, hundreds of memories that didn’t take place in this town. On my nightstand, a picture of a girl I used to know. The one with haunting blue eyes and a smile that never quite touched them. It’s there at times but held at bay for reasons I never did find out.
For the past four years, I’ve thought about her every single day. It’s not an exaggeration either. I think about her now, since I’ve been back in this town for only hours. It’s constant, the memories that is and the pull to see her; it’s stronger than anything I’ve ever experienced. It’s so bad that just the idea of her sends my pulse racing and my breathing erratic.
Roman: Dude, get here! We’re at my mom’s house. I’m savin’ ya a ho.
What the fuck does that mean? A ho? Roman’s always been the wild child of the group. I’m not even sure I can say group, because when you up and leave two days before high school starts, and return two days after you graduate, you’re not part of any group. You’re the guy who left. The one who abandoned them.
Part of me knows I shouldn’t go, because I know what happens at those parties—they drink and do stupid shit. But when have I ever listened to myself? Never.
“I’m headin’ out for a bit,” I tell my dad, searching the counter for my keys.
One look at my dad and I can tell you right now that’s not what he wants to hear. I don’t know him very well anymore so I can’t tell you exactly what he’s thinking, but I’m guessing by the hard lines formin
g across his face, he’s not happy.
He raises an eyebrow as if to say “Are you serious?”
“Fuck you” is what I want to say. I’m eighteen. I don’t have to do anything he says, but I’m not sure I’m ready for that argument just yet. Maybe save it for my second day home.
“You just got home,” he reminds me, screwing on the cap to his water bottle. My dad is a health nut. Protein shakes, cross-fit, runs at least three-to-five miles every day and probably hasn’t had sugar in over a decade. His body portrays the physically fit condition with lean, defined muscles and veins protruding from his forearms. “Besides, Carlin is on her way home with Livia. I thought we could go for a boat ride. Water’s calm tonight.”
Ah, yes. Do you see what he’s doing here? The dad who abandoned his family and decided to get a new one is making an effort. One day back and I’m supposed to fall into his perfect family life he’s created. The one where cancer doesn’t reside and nothing but perfection exists. That shit, it’s not reality. It’s superficial. It’s a dream, and one day his dream is going to come crashing down on him.
I shrug one shoulder and reach for my keys. “I’m sure I’ll see them eventually.” Or maybe I’ll spend the next month until I move up to Seattle avoiding them.
There’s a thought.
“I thought maybe we could get some dinner.” And then he glances away and to the bottle of water, then to his cell phone next to it. “Carlin wanted to meet up with us.”
“I’m not hungry,” I snap, hating the mention of her name.
Dad sighs. He doesn’t say anything and I know why. He’s pissed off at me. There’s one thing Dr. Brent Lawson doesn’t like. His plans not going his way. I love my dad, but as a man, I have very little respect for him. My reasoning?
He left my mother when she needed him the most. And now he thinks just because my mom is dead, I’m gonna treat Carlin—his mistress—as if she’s my mother now.
She’s not. My mom was the best woman in the world. The dirt covering her grave is still fresh, and he thinks I’m suddenly gonna want a new mother. I don’t fucking think so. It doesn’t work that way. He doesn’t get to play this game with me. Not now, not ever.
My dad sighs, again. “Asa, I’m worried about you.”
“Don’t be. I’m fine. I’m just going out for a bit.”
He slides his hand through his hair. “I know you say you’re fine, but I don’t think you are.” He frowns at my expression. “You know what I mean.”
“No. I don’t know what you mean.” If he says her name, I think I’ll scream.
The chiseled lines of his face are etched with an emotion I don’t understand. Closing his eyes, he draws in a breath and then shakes his head, looking down. “Your mom died, and you got arrested at her funeral.”
Right. That. I roll my eyes. He doesn’t know the half of it. “Whatever.”
His eyes soften, but I can tell he’s beginning to panic that I might leave and never come back. “You’re raw right now and easily provoked. I just don’t think you need to be hanging out with that group at the moment.”
“I’ll be fine.”
He fidgets, his jaw tight and flexing. He’s pissed now. I may not have been around him much in the last four years, but I know this look because it’s what I do. I think back to the funeral last week and the way he stood stoic in the distance, unmoving, unfazed on the outside and I wonder, did it tear him up inside? Did he feel anything that his first love died so brutally from a cancer that tore apart her life and body?
And then comes the fatherly advice he’s been dying to give me since I came home. “Asa, I don’t want to hear that you’re fine, because you’re not. Your mom d—”
“Don’t you dare say it!” I shout at him, stepping closer. “Jesus Christ. I know she fucking died. I was there when she took her last breath. You weren’t. So don’t act like you suddenly know anything about me. I’m fine. And this town isn’t the problem. I am.”
He knows there’s truth in my words, but the dad in him won’t let me get the last word. He grabs hold of my elbow. “That’s what I’m talking about. You’re not yourself right now and it’s okay. You’ve been through a lot, but you have to be smart. If you go out now, with your temperament, it’s only going to take one person setting you off and you could lose everything. I agreed by bringing you here that you wouldn’t get into trouble. You’re already on the NCAA radar and it’s not a place you want to be. It’s the only way you’re not in jail right now, Asa. If you get in another fight, your scholarship to UW is gone.”
Lose everything? Ha. I thought I already had.
From the time I was six years old playing youth football, I’ve had one goal in mind. The NFL. For me, nothing stood in the way of that. Until my mom got sick. I moved to Ohio with her and played high school ball for Massillon High School. For her, I refocused and made the best of the life I now had. For her, I forgot my old life in Washington and did what I needed to do for her. It certainly wasn’t easy for a fifteen-year-old boy, but I did it because I knew my mom needed me.
Have you heard about Massillon Ohio? They breed football players. Hell, every baby boy born in Massillon is handed a miniature football. They’ve had twenty-three pro players, three NFL coaches, and fourteen collegiate all-American’s graduate from that school. The Massillon Tigers are one of the winningest high school football teams in the country, and I lead them to the state title this season. They say some kids have talent and others don’t. Well me, Asa Lawson, I have the talent, just not the head space most of the time. I obsess. I have anxiety and quite possibly the worst temper you can imagine when pushed over the edge.
Being arrested at my mom’s funeral might just be a good example, but it’s still early. I’ll probably give you another reason why sooner rather than later.
It comes down to this. I should stay home. I should. But the draw to see her is far too tempting.
“I won’t get in any fights,” I tell my dad in passing, unsure if I will keep the promise.
He mumbles something, though I’m not sure what because from then on out, my thoughts are centered around a girl and the need to know where we stand now, if anywhere.
Deep breaths, B. That’s all you need to do to keep from passing out.
He’s here. You may not know who I’m referring to, but if you saw him, you’d know. He’s the one who holds everyone’s attention and the target of every snickering girl trying to draw him their way. He doesn’t move from his place beside the fire. I’m not sure he’s noticed me, or even if he remembers me.
My heart thuds louder, a steady, persistent drumbeat. Shit, stop staring at him.
Do you notice the way I hide behind my hair and avoid contact with pretty much everyone? That’s a girl who clearly wants to disappear into thin air.
Laughter and playfulness fill the air beside me. Girls screaming, guys too loud, too obnoxious in their attempt to be cool. But not him. He’s relaxed, undeterred, unfazed by anything around him. Standing tall, muscular, rigid, and if I had to guess, his thoughts are not with the ones around him.
The pacific northwest summer sun beats down on my bare shoulders, the only relief under the thick shade of the pine trees lining Budd Inlet. There are noises all around me—summer noises—boats, creaking docks, laughing. I drop my head, my hair falling forward to conceal my face. My stomach squeezes, ready to vomit the pizza rolls I scarfed down just hours ago. Come to think of it, I’ve never had a weak stomach, until now. Until I can’t draw my eyes away from him. They flicker and then away, only to find their way back again like the pull he’s always had on me.
Don’t puke, I tell myself. You don’t have a change of clothes with you.
I don’t know what I’m doing here. I hate parties. High school parties, even worse. I guess I’ve never experienced anything but high school parties and the occasional birthday, and one very awkward graduation party for my cousin Layne. I’ve never enjoyed anything where I’m forced to interact and pretend I’m com
fortable being surrounded by strangers.
“We should be at your house,” Cadence says, rolling her eyes at the laughter coming from the water where the keg is. While the party is just getting started, it seems her on-again—more off-again—boyfriend, Roman, is doing a keg stand. “At least there we wouldn’t be bothered by anyone.”
“Yeah, but I’m sure they have the cameras on to watch our every move,” I tell her, knowing they do. “And we have nothing but kale chips and sparkling water to drink.”
Cadence makes a sour face. “Your parents are so fucking weird.”
“Try having them as parents.”
My, shall I say, eccentric parents, they spend the summers traveling without me. Every teenager’s dream, right? Believe me, it’s for the better. They used to drag me around to all the places they wanted to go, but finally, when I turned sixteen and proved I could stay home alone, they stopped forcing me to go. Besides that, my grandpa lives next door to us. It’s not like I’m really left home alone.
“Holy shit. Isn’t that Asa Lawson?” Cadence gestures toward the bonfire where I know he’s standing. Her eyes slide to mine and it’s a waiting game of what my reaction is going to be.
My red cup rests in my hand and I struggle to maintain my “distracted” look I’ve been practicing. I do that jerky head motion that makes it look like I have Tourette’s syndrome. I don’t, but it doesn’t matter. When I’m nervous, I get jerky and my voice becomes high and shaky. Classic teenage-girl move for sure. “Yeah, it’s him.” I divert eye contact. See? Did you notice the octave my voice reached? Embarrassing. “Stop looking at him!” I hiss.
She snickers. “I’m sorry. But damn, it’s just so hard not to. He certainly filled out, didn’t he?”
Believe me, I know. I’ve been drooling over him long before she noticed. I noticed Asa over an hour ago, but I didn’t want to give myself away. I’ve been watching him the entire time, my heart fluttering with every blink of his dark lashes and the way his golden blond hair shines under the shimmering sunset. He’s just as beautiful as the day he left. It should be a crime for a teenage boy to be beautiful. It’s unfair to all the girls that work at it and he probably—I know he does—just rolls out of bed that put together.