“You’re fucking sick,” Sean spits, and then slams Vince’s body against the wall. Vince tries to take a swing, but Sean grabs his arm mid-blow, restraining him. Vince twists and manages to weasel his way to the door. Sean grabs him by his waist and swings him back into the room, and Vince hits the nightstand. The lamp crashes to the floor and I leap to my feet to avoid the glass, standing in the corner of the bed to keep out of the way.
Sean is on top of Vince, punching him repeatedly in the face. Each blow makes a nauseating sound as it lands on his flesh. The sound of the lamp clattering draws the attention of the party guests, and someone flings the door open.
“Sean, stop man!” Someone calls.
A few of their mutual friends step in to separate them, but Mike is quickly bouncing through the door. He pushes the crowd back, blocking the door with his powerful lineman's build, allowing Sean to continue landing blows onto Vince’s face.
Vince's voice is breaking as he pleads his apology between hits. This continues for about half a moment more until the words stop and all we can hear is the sound of breaking skin and whimpering.
Mike steps in and pulls Sean away. He has a look in his eyes that I’ve never seen before. The warmth has been replaced by a murderous rage. But when he turns to me, his face twists in concern and his blue eyes soften. Mike let’s a few guys in to tend to Vince, but acts as a barrier between Sean and them.
Sean climbs next to me on the bed, collecting me like I’m a frightened child. He pulls me into his chest, wrapping his strong arms around me. His kisses my forehead and smooths my hair, cradling me against him.
“I’m so sorry, Breezy. I should have come in sooner. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” He says over and over as he holds my head into his chest.
I say nothing and cling to him, sobbing into his shirt that's splattered with Vince’s blood. The crowd seems to have realized what transpired, and is standing back now, watching with horrified faces. Only Vince’s best friends are helping him to sit up. One of them is splashing water on the cuts across his face, but it’s only serving to put bloodstains on the wood flooring.
“Get Sophie,” Sean says to Mike. “Meet me in the truck.”
Sean climbs off the bed and helps me down. His knuckles are bloody and raw. I try not to look at Vince, but Sean kicks him in his thigh as we pass.
“Dude, when Vince presses charges, you won’t see a football field again!” One of Vince's friends threatens Sean from the door.
Sean extends his middle finger and then helps me climb into the truck. After the four of us are inside, Sean starts driving without bothering to clear the frost from the window. The heat from his rage is enough to warm the truck.
Sean
Sophie is talking to Bree in hushed tones and holding her hands. Bree isn’t saying much, but she nods her head occasionally, listening intently. I know Sophie feels just as guilty as I do. One of us should have followed Bree to the bedroom.
I overhear bits and pieces of what she’s saying. It's something about potentially filing a police report. I hope she does.
Mike is staring out the window, watching the snow covered hills we pass. He is almost as wordless as I am, although he does occasionally add an affirmation. Usually, he's just nodding his head in silent agreement to whatever Sophie is saying.
Nestled next to me, Bree is still trembling. Seeing her so afraid and vulnerable does something I’ve never felt before. The rage I felt earlier is still there, brewing in my stomach and making my muscles tense. My bleeding knuckles catch the glint of what few street lamps we pass, and I wish I would have done more. I wish I would have snapped Vince’s neck.
The drive to the house seems to take an eternity. Partly because of worsened road conditions, but mostly because of the excruciating feeling of not being there for Bree. I wasn’t enough. I’d never been enough. She deserves the world and I’ve failed her in every aspect.
Finally we make the turn down our street, and I feel dread wash over me. She could go home, and I might not see her again until after break. Hell, I might not see her again, full stop. Who could blame her if she decided it was too difficult to be around me? After all, it was my friend who did this to her.
“Do you want Sean to pull in your driveway, or do you still want to stay the night?” Sophie whispers. Bree looks at me out of the corner of her eye, appraising the situation.
“I want to stay,” she says softly.
I pull into our drive and help Bree climb out of the car. As she takes my hand, she sees the blood on my knuckles and her face falls. Her brown eyes delve into mine, trying to express something unsaid. She squeezes my hand and then turns to join Sophie at the door of the house.
Mike is waiting for me at the end of the truck. I open the tailgate and he pulls out two cans of beer from his coat pocket.
“They might be a little warm from the drive,” He says with a smile. I shake my head. Only Mike would find time to sneak beers in a situation like this.
We sit in silence as a fog starts to roll in. The ball of fury within me won’t subside. After awhile, I realize it's mostly because I am angry with myself. I should have never left Bree alone with Vince. I saw the way he aggressively pursued her on the dance floor. I saw how she was uncomfortable. I should have approached him then. At the very least, I should have stayed near her for the rest of the night. I should have told Tiffany to knock her shit off during the game. Then Bree would have stayed. She would have never been alone with him.
The thoughts keep surging through my brain, unstoppable. Scenarios where I could have done better, where I could be the man she deserves. They are relentless, and I’m not sure how much time passes before Mike speaks.
“If he does press charges, you might not get to play,” Mike says evenly. It’s the truth, but I'd been avoiding thinking about it.
“He was the one in the wrong,” I say defensively.
“Yeah, I know. But it’s his word against yours,” He replies with a shrug.
“There were witnesses,” I continue, taking my last swig of beer.
“Yeah, but they didn’t see the whole thing. Just you kicking his ass. For all they know, and what he’ll probably tell them, is that he was hooking up with her and you got jealous. Besides, it’s his place. They won’t want to lose their hang-out,” He says. He’s watching my face as I process his words.
“They like me, though. They respect me. They’re fans.” I can feel the weakness in my argument as I say the words.
“Sean, you’ve seen how fast fans can change. We’ve had entire stadiums go cold on us from just incomplete passes. You think your former classmates give two shits about your success? Hell, probably most of them are waiting for you to fail, anyway. If you came down in a blaze of fire, they’d be all the better for it,” Mike says.
He’s waiting for my reply, but I can’t think of a response. His words are as cold as the air around us, but I know they're true. He lets me sit quietly for a few minutes before speaking again.
“I doubt he’ll actually press charges,” Mike adds. “He’d look like a pussy. Even more than he already did.” He extends his hand for a fist bump, coaxing one out of me.
The front door opens and Sophie comes out wrapped in a blanket. She sits next to Mike on the tailgate. She doesn’t smile or anything, and I can tell she’s shaken up. For the first time, it occurs to me that it just as easily could have been her. We exchange looks, and I know she’s thinking the same thing.
“She’s asleep,” she says into the air.
“Is she okay?” I ask, watching her face for clues.
“She was really scared,” she says. “She can’t believe it happened.”
“Is it okay for her to be alone?” I ask, looking at the door.
“It will just be for a minute. I just wanted to update you guys,” Sophie says, wrapping the blanket more tightly around her. Mike takes my beer from me and crushes it, setting it next to his. He looks at Sophie and his face is soft.
“Do you t
hink she’ll want to file a report?” He asks. I know he’s hoping she will, too. Not only for justice, but so that it will help my case if Vince does go to the police.
Sophie shrugs. “I think she’s hesitant to. It would just be his word against hers. A defense attorney would tear her life apart trying to find proof that she wanted it.” She shudders.
“Yeah, well, anyone can tell them that she's not like that. She hasn't even been with anyone,” I say, and I realize I'm almost shouting.
“Sean, that’s a problem in itself. They can just say that she was embarrassed to be caught or something. They’ll twist it. It might be even more traumatic for her to pursue this. Besides, they don’t have any physical evidence,” she says. She’s trying to speak calmly to bring me down.
“Thank God for that,” Mike says.
Sophie is watching me, and there is no point in hiding my feelings from her. I’m sure she can already tell that I like Bree, anyway. And at this point, what does it matter? I hear what they’re saying, but I hate the words. I hate that they are true. I hate that Vince is going to get away with this.
“I’m going to go be with her. You guys should come inside,” she says. She ruffles my hair as she walks past.
Mike and I follow her in, and the warmth of the house does nothing to make me feel better. The tension and anger are here to stay. I close my eyes to try to sleep, but all I see are the ways I've let Breezy down.
Breanna
A screeching yell pierces the morning quiet. My eyes flutter open, and Sophie and I sit up, exchanging looks. It's her mom, and she's shouting long sentences sprinkled with expletives. We are scarcely breathing in an attempt to hear what she's upset about, but it's no use. Soph props open the door, but we still can't make out her words. She pads quietly down the hall and I follow.
Mrs. Foley is standing with her back to us, gesturing wildly. Sitting at the table before her is Sean, wearing only pajama bottoms. His hands are folded on the table, his bruised and scabbing knuckles fully visible.
“You are going to lose everything you’ve worked for with this kind of behavior! What was it? Another bar fight?! I’m surprised you aren’t in jail. Not yet anyway. Just a matter of time,” she yells.
Sean says nothing and is looking at the table. He's listening to her words intently, but doesn’t speak.
“Nothing to say for yourself? Don’t think your father or I will put up your bail if you get arrested again. You’ve put us through enough. You’re a man now, for God’s sake. Act like it, Sean!” She continues. Her hand are on her hips and she waits for him to speak, to apologize, to explain. Anything.
He says nothing. He looks up at her face, and when he does he sees Sophie and me in the hall watching. His face clouds when he sees me and he looks away. I feel guilty and unclean. It's no wonder he can't look at me. I should have never put myself in that situation. If he's arrested, I've ruined his life.
“God, Sean. And the day of our party? I can’t believe you’d embarrass your father and me like this. How are we going to make you presentable?” She shrieks, pointing at his knuckles. She grips his chin roughly, inspecting a red mark on his cheek. Vince must have landed a glancing blow.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” he says finally. “I don’t want to embarrass you or Dad.”
She shakes her head. “You’ve got a funny way of showing it. You think any professional teams will want you if you participate in this kind of drama? You’ll be a liability to them. You better think long and hard about the things you want in life.” She storms off, leaving him at the table like a scolded child.
He lifts his eyes to Sophie and I, and I don’t even feel worthy of meeting his gaze. Why didn't he tell his mom that he was defending me? But I know why. His mother would tell my parents, and he wants me to be able to decide if they should know. I can feel his eyes on me, and I become aware of how puffy and swollen I must be from crying. I shift uncomfortably, but force myself to look at him.
“Are you doing okay, Bree?” He asks as he stands. I nod, and he walks towards Sophie and me. I feel like turning away and going back the Soph’s room, but my feet act as though they're stuck in wet cement. My eyes are welling with tears, and as he draws me back into him, they slide down my cheek.
“Thank you for taking care of me.” I manage to croak. He holds me tighter and rests his head on my hair. His bare biceps are next to my face and I can smell hints of his cologne. How many times have I prayed for this? Just my luck it’s under these circumstances.
Sophie puts her hand on my back and I startle, forgetting that she was there. I reluctantly pull away from Sean, and look away. If he sees my face, he'll know everything.
“Will I see you at the party tonight, Breezy?” He says to my back as I walk down the hall.
“I think so,” I answer, hardly trusting my own voice.
Sophie closes her bedroom door and sits next to me on the bed. She squeezes my hand and dotes on me, just like she did last night. Usually it’s me taking care of her the morning after a party, and I smile at the reversal.
“Don’t feel like you have to come tonight,” she says softly. “We can make up an excuse. You can just pretend to be sick or something. That way your parents won’t know.”
I shake my head. “It’s easier to just come. Besides, I’d just be dwelling on it, anyway. It’s better if I just try to move on, I think.”
“You’re very brave,” she says, and her eyes are wide in awe.
“It’s not like anything really happened,” I say. “Your brother stopped it. I should tell your parents the truth. They shouldn't be mad at him.”
“Stop. Don’t even worry about that. It’ll just go down in the books as one of Sean’s Fuck-Ups with the countless others. They don’t need to know the truth. They’ll forget soon enough.”
“Yeah, but Soph. If Vince presses charges, Sean might lose everything. I need to tell them-” I begin.
She hold her hand up to stop me. She is closing her eyes and shaking her head. I stop speaking and wait for her to say something, but she is curiously silent. Finally, after taking a deep breath, she speaks in barely a whisper.
“Bree, do you really think Sean cares about that?”
I say nothing, because I do. He worked for it his entire life, sacrificing friendships and forsaking other pastimes, all in pursuit of turning football into a career. Of course he cares about it.
Sophie sighs, as if exasperated. “Honestly, Bree. I know my brother better than anyone. I see the way he looks at you. If losing everything meant keeping you safe, he’d gladly never step foot on a field again. He wouldn't think twice. That’s how much he thinks of you. You mean more to him than football ever will.”
My breath is shallow. Her words don’t make sense. Maybe this is what having a stroke is like. She can’t be saying what I think she is. But the sparkle in her eyes reaffirms any doubts I’m having. She’s watching me with a smirk, and I want to both hug and shake her at the same time. If she knows all this, there is no way that my feelings for him have gone unnoticed.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Is all I can manage.
“Because in high school I thought it would be weird. Plus, he was immature. It wouldn’t have amounted to anything. But now? He’s grown up some,” she says with a hint of pride in her voice. I cover my face with my hands to hide my smile, but she pulls my hands away and laughs at my embarrassment.
We giggle together, but I fight the urge to press her for details. I want to ask her everything: how she knows he likes me, how she thinks he’s changed, and does she think we’d be good together? But I don’t want to make things awkward for her. It might already feel strange, given everything that happened. But from her beaming face, I can tell that she likes the idea. That's all the blessing I need.
Trying to hide my delight, I ask Sophie what she’s going to wear to the party. This of course launches her into performing what is essentially a fashion show, getting my opinion on which shoes would go best with which dress. We pla
y with accessories and I give her my best input, but in my mind I'm replaying her words over and over, coming to just one conclusion.
Sean wants me.
Sean
Redemption never was my strong suit, but I’m giving it my best shot as I help my mom set up for the party. Despite my solid upbringing, I’ve never given her much to be proud of besides football. I can see why she’s upset. But If she had known why my knuckles were busted, well, she’d be singing my praises.
But they've warned me my whole life: It's hard to rebuild a damaged reputation. From her perspective, I'm just fucking up again. I can't tell her what really happened, though. It isn't my place to share what happened to Bree.
So it will go with me to my grave, if necessary. My parents will get over it. They've already developed a backstory about my bruises and cuts to tell their friends if they ask. They'll say it happened during football practice. Anything to save face, no matter how unlikely.
But I’m stringing up lights and mistletoe like I’m getting paid for it. Their pride is this party. They love showing off everything they've worked for. The beautiful house, the "high-achieving" children, and potential early retirement. Who knows, depending on how things shake out, this might be the last year to be proud of me. Sophie is already on thin ice by not going to school. If I'm done with ball, maybe they won't have a party next year . . .
Breezy left around an hour ago. She’s smart enough to know not to get roped into the decorating regime my mom forces upon us. She gave me a soft smile as she left, but her eyes were sad. It was all I could do to keep from dropping the box of decorations I was carrying and go to her. I ache to hold her again.
At least she said she’s coming to the party. That gives me something to look forward to. In fact, it’s all I think about. Every light I string, I imagine how she’ll glow underneath.
Snapped: A Sports Romance Page 4