In seconds, I hear the door to Sheridan fling open behind me. Ben walks toward us with a goofy grin on his face but surprises me by being halfway normal around my dad. “Hello, sir,” he says, holding out his hand.
Dad looks at me, and I shrug. “Dad. This is Ben Riley.”
Dad takes Ben’s hand and shakes it. “Nice to meet you, son.”
Ben tries hard to keep his cool and stay normal, but soon he’s gushing at my dad like all the fans do. He tells him how much he admires him, how he considers my dad a role model. “Everyone kept telling me I was too bulky to be a quarterback and I’d always say, ‘Look at Smith! He’s a beast and he’s the best.’ I had no idea Megan was your daughter. She’s awesome.”
Usually when introduced to a boyfriend, Dad puts on an intimidating, I-will-kill-you-if-you-hurt-my-baby attitude. For Ben though, he’s relaxed. He tells Ben how sorry he is about the shooting. “I wanted to reach out to you when it happened, but Megan was pretty adamant about keeping my identity a secret. I had to respect that.”
“I understand,” Ben says.
“I’m sorry about your shoulder.”
Ben nods and looks at me. “He’s working hard in PT,” I tell Dad.
Dad nods. “Good, good. That’s the first step. How about I have the team doctors look at you? See about getting you throwing again?”
I look to Ben for his reaction, and my gut sinks when his eyes dim. “Thanks, Mr. Smith, but I think I’m giving up on that dream.”
If there’s one thing my father hates, it’s when people give up on their dreams, especially the football-related kind. “If you want to talk, about anything, you call me.”
He takes a business card and a pen out of his jacket pocket and scribbles his cell phone number on it. Ben beams when he holds it out to him.
“How about you and Meg meet me for dinner one of these nights? Can you set that up, princess?”
I raise my eyebrows. “Sure, Daddy.”
Ben smiles at me and sneaks a wink. “Really? That would be great.”
I turn to Dad. “I’m going to walk Ben in. I’ll be right back. I know you want to talk to me.”
I grab Ben by the sleeves and pull him away from my dad toward Sheridan. I’m able to click the door open and wrangle him inside.
He snaps out of his fandom state and jumps up and down like a kid. “Oh my God! Megan, your dad? Big Joe!” He points in the direction of the lot. “That’s Big Joe! I wish Frank were here to meet him. Don’t you think Frank would have loved to?”
I put my hands on his shoulders to steady him. “Calm down, Ben. Look at me.”
He settles, but his grin is giant and his eyes are wide. “I can’t believe he’s in our lot!”
“Stop. Please. I don’t want anyone to know. Our secret, okay?”
His face drops, and I almost feel sorry. “Okay. For you.”
I touch his cheek and mimic his pout. “Let me go deal with him. I need to get him out of here before he draws attention.”
“Meg?”
“Hmm,” I answer, finding his eyes and getting lost in his sweet face.
“Are you going to tell him about the letter?”
I sigh. “I don’t know.”
“Because if you want me to drive you today, maybe you should tell him.”
“I’m not sure I want him to know. We’ll talk later, okay?” Then I peck him right on the lips. “I had a great time last night.”
I reach for the door but he stops me. He pulls me back into the staircase and pins me against the wall, his hands holding my wrists. “Slow down.”
“My dad,” I start, but before my brain figures out the rest of the sentence, he leans into me, holding me against the wall with his weight, and kisses me.
I exhale and relax my body, sinking between him and the cool wall at my back. His warm lips move slowly, nibbling at mine. He releases my wrists and touches my face, rubbing circles over my hot cheeks with his thumbs. His tongue explores in the same circles, teasing me. It’s so careful, so deep, like he’s trying to reach straight to my heart. I sigh his name, both willing him to stop and begging him to continue.
When he pulls back and looks at me, I see the words in his eyes. I love you.
Besides stupid Henry, I’ve never been told the words by a guy, and I always thought the next time I did they’d be verbal, audible. Ben’s three words scream at me through the silence in the stairwell.
I try to yell them back with my mouth, with my body, but I can’t get through my wall. So instead, I whisper, “Thank you,” and maneuver out of his grasp.
I run out of Sheridan Hall to my father before Ben can respond. Dad’s right where I left him. I try to focus, but I’m still flustered from my stairway session with Ben. As I approach, Dad smiles.
“You wanted to see me?” I say.
He shifts his weight and rubs his forehead. “You haven’t called. I was worried. I want to talk with you about how you’re feeling about the news I gave you.”
He doesn’t know about the letter or my plans to stake out my birth mother later in the day. “Well then talk. You’re the one with all the information, apparently.”
He opens the door of the Beemer. “Why don’t we go to the penthouse. You can stay with me for a while, commute. Ben can visit—”
I shut the door. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“You went to your uncle’s,” he says, opening the door again.
“That was different.” It was because of Ben, not Dad. I slam the door shut.
Dad’s face turns red. I’m glad I’m pissing him off. “Get in the car,” he orders, opening the door again.
I scowl and turn my back to him and the car.
“You listen to me, young lady.” His voice is low and deep. “This is serious. I’m not sure if she’s going to contact you. I don’t want you to be alone, dealing with my problems. I know how to handle her. You don’t.”
“No.” I cross my arms and hold my chin up, like I did when I was little and he told me I couldn’t get what I wanted.
The redness spreads from his cheeks to his neck. “Here’s what’s going to happen. One, you will stay put, study, and be aware, or two, you will come back to the city with me.”
I spin around and slam the door again. “Or three. How about you tell me what’s going on?”
He shakes his head. “I can’t. Why can’t you just trust me that I know what’s best for you?”
My shoulders sag, and I sigh. “Because you lied to me, Daddy.”
His face drops. He can’t deny it.
Without another word, I turn and run away.
Chapter Seventeen
Ben
I fiddle with Big Joe’s business card as I pace my room, waiting for Megan to return. I attempt to study, read, anything, but I can’t concentrate. At the sound of clanging free weights and classic rock, I dart out of the room to the lounge to join Roc.
“Hey, Riley. What’s up?” He secures the weights on the bar then bends at the waist to dead lift.
Rocco trained with Frank, competing professionally in various bodybuilding competitions. The two of them bickered constantly but made a great team—it’s odd seeing Rocco work out alone. He and Frank had a whole opposites attract-type trainer/trainee friendship. Rocco is intense and high-strung while Frank was laid-back and rarely serious.
I spot him and shout over the music, “Can I ask you something?”
He does a set of five, puts the bar down, and then lowers the volume on his portable speaker. “Sure.”
“Say someone close to you told you her parents think she’s in danger. Then the person goes and does something to possibly aggravate the situation. Would you try to intervene? I mean, it’s between her and her parents, right?” From the questioning look on his face, he probably thinks I’m being a lunatic.
He rubs the bandanna on his head. “It depends. On the girl. On the parents. On your relationship with them. Are we talking about Megan here?”
“Oh, um…”
How does he know?
He laughs. “I won’t say anything. But everyone’s figured out that something’s going on with you two.”
“Chase and Jules walked in on us last night, so I guess the cat’s out of the bag.” I sit on the bench next to Roc and lean my elbows on my knees, lowering my voice. “Megan got this sketchy letter from her birth mom who she never met. Her dad claims the lady is trouble—that she’s out to hurt Meg or him. As far as I know, Meg didn’t tell her dad about the letter and asked me to drive her to meet the woman. I told her yes, but I’m debating if I should refuse to bring her or at least let her dad know.”
Rocco nods.
“I know that’s a violation of her trust,” I say, “but I can’t let anything happen to her.”
I don’t tell Rocco, but since Frank, I’m all fucked up about where to draw lines. Like I need to save everyone, but at the same time, I don’t trust my own judgment. I blame myself every single day for Frank’s death. “My instincts are out of whack since November.”
Rocco’s shoulders tense, and he rubs his traps. “My instincts aren’t much better these days, but I think you should do what you can to keep Meg safe. It’s better to have her pissed off at you than…worse. I wish I would have done more for Pooja.”
Pooja’s ex had been stalking and harassing her for months, but nobody took the threat seriously. Frank’s gone as a result. “You’re right. I have to do what I have to do.”
With the decision made, I leave Roc to his workout and call Big Joe. When he answers, I stare blankly at the wall.
I’m on my cell phone talking to my childhood hero.
“Hello?” he asks again.
Not talking yet. “Oh, um, yes sir. This is Ben. Ben Riley? Megan’s… friend.”
“Ben, yes.”
“I don’t mean to bother you, but I wanted to talk to you about Meg. Could you call me back when you have a free minute? I’d appreciate if you didn’t tell her.”
“Is she okay?” His voice drops. “I tried to get her to come to the city with me—”
“No, no! I don’t mean to worry you. But I wanted to run something by you.”
“Okay, sure.” He asks me to meet him at the Fieldhouse near the football stadium before he heads back to the city.
I bundle into my winter coat and comb my hair, and then I put a skullcap over it anyway. Instead of taking the Buick to the Fieldhouse, I walk through campus. The fresh air clears my lungs, and it feels good to move. I remember the day I got my acceptance letter and football scholarship to NJU. Life was full of possibility. I thought I’d be here, partying, playing football, hooking up. Living a carefree college life. Shit, did things get fucked up.
When Big Joe texts me, I break into an easy jog. If Coach plans on making me run again, I should get used to this.
A limo waits for me at the Fieldhouse. The driver climbs out and opens the back door, and I slide onto the dark leather seat next to Big Joe. Sitting across from him, my heart starts pumping. I refrain from reaching out to touch his hands—hands that have thrown so many great passes. Miles and miles of passes.
Big Joe Smith was a great football player, but he has also been a role model, inspiration, entertainer, and benefactor. Both a student and master of the game. When Evan and I were little, we’d fight over the quarterback position to play Big Joe. Now that we’re “big,” we still sometimes pretend to be Big Joe when we toss the football.
He waves his famous hand in front of my face. “You okay, big guy?”
“I, uh.” Might as well confront my weirdness. “It’s just that you’re my idol.”
“I appreciate that,” he says. “I had a great career, mostly because of fans like you.”
“Your hands.” I gulp, staring and pointing at them.
He holds them up for me. “I hate to break this to you, but they’re just hands.”
They’re not just hands. I can’t help but ask. “How’d you do it? All those years?”
Big Joe leans forward and slaps me on the shoulder. It’s a hard smack, so I’m grateful it’s my good shoulder. “Hard work. Didn’t give up. And I didn’t do it alone.” His friendly demeanor settles my nerves, and my brain starts to function again.
Every quarterback needs a target. I smile, remembering. Smith to Pisko… “Pisko.”
“Pisser spent his entire career making me look good,” he says.
I laugh and exhale. “As a quarterback, I see it the other way around, sir.”
Big Joe leans back and flings his hand at me. “Eh, I was trying to be nice. Honestly, we fight over that all the time. When you and Meg come for dinner, I’ll invite him too. You can stare at his hands for a while. Sound good?”
“Sounds like a dream come true.” I smile and shift in my seat. “Speaking of dreams come true, I wanted to talk to you about your daughter.”
“You’re as charming as she says, huh? What’s going on?”
“Well…” I had a script, but it’s gone. So, I speak from the heart. “She told me you had a conversation about her birth mother. I wanted to ask if you really think she’s going to get hurt. I mean, she’s a sweetheart. What kind of mother would hurt her child?” I couldn’t picture anyone putting Meg in danger, especially not the person who gave birth to her.
“I hope she’s not. I’m doing everything I can besides dragging her back to the city. I have security following her.”
Meg never mentioned security. “She doesn’t know that.”
“Obviously not, given your fight at the bar, your time in the car…”
It takes me a second to remember what “time in the car” refers to.
“Shit.” Big Joe Smith knows I’m nailing his daughter. I cringe and hold up my hands. “I’d apologize, but I’m really not sorry. Are you going to hurt me?”
He snickers. “Don’t worry, not today. Look, I know she’s a grown up. You’re around her a lot. The best thing you can do for her is keep an eye out. If anything out of the ordinary happens, you let me know.”
“What do you mean, ‘out of the ordinary’?”
“If anyone seems to be following her, if she gets any odd calls that make her uncomfortable. If anyone sends her anything—”
“Like a letter?”
“She got a letter?” He shifts and sits up straighter. His eyes are on me.
I nod. “From her mother. Meg wants me to drive her to Fort Lee today. That’s why I’m here. I thought you should know.”
“Ah, fuck. Any way you can stop her?” He tries to hide it, but I catch the hitch in his voice.
“You know Meg. She seems determined. I think she’s mad at you for not telling her the truth from the beginning.”
I see the worry in his face, the way his eyes grow and his cheeks redden. “I understand,” he says. “Still, I don’t want her going there by herself. You’ll stay with her?”
“If it’s going to keep Megan safe, sure. Of course.”
Mr. Smith pats my shoulder, my bad shoulder this time, and it throbs under his hand. “Who’s this Dave guy she went out with?” Despite not knowing about the letter, his security must be pretty thorough.
“Some slick douchebag who wants your daughter.” Mr. Smith may think I’m a douchebag too.
“You kids and your drama. I know Amelia’s been giving you a hard time about September. Are you trying to get her over that?”
“I’m trying. Any advice?” I look at him hoping he’ll give me a clue.
“Don’t ask me.” He holds his hands up. “I don’t understand women any more than you do.” Big Joe smirks. “I think she’s feeling a little insecure. If you can fix that, you’re in. Not that you aren’t ‘in’ already.”
I cringe.
“You using protection?”
Please make me disappear. “Um, yes.”
Mr. Smith laughs, and then suddenly furrows his brow and points his finger at me. “Listen. You be nice to my girl or I’ll come after you. She’s all I got. And don’t get her pregnant. You understand?”
/>
“Yes, sir.” I groan the words, hoping to end the conversation.
Luckily, he changes the topic. “Now tell me about your shoulder.”
I explain that the doctors think I have permanent damage to my shoulder tissue and tendons. After listening to my medical history since the shooting, Mr. Smith invites me to Mustang Stadium to meet the doctors and play catch with him.
Big Joe Smith offers to play catch with me at Mustang Stadium.
Playing catch with the real Big Joe, not Evan acting like Big Joe, is one of those life goals I never thought possible. But I’m not sure I can deal with my injury. “Maybe,” I say. “Can I think about it?”
“If football is still something you want, but you just feel scared, you have to fight through that fear. Even if it’s tough and you may hear something you don’t want to. Even though you’ll have to work harder than ever to stay in the game.”
“I’m scared to say it’s something I want. It was such a long shot anyway. I mean, I was third string at NJU. Chances are I was never gonna play.”
“But?”
“But I love football. And giving up pisses me off. Coach is on my ass. There’s the scholarship. If I let football go, I let my whole life go with it. It’s letting that fucker who killed Frank kill me too.”
“It’s rough for you kids. Amelia had a hard time, and she wasn’t physically near it, thankfully.”
“I’m glad she was far away.”
“I’m sorry you weren’t.”
I shrug. “I’m grateful I was able to help the girls.” It’s what I focus on instead of how I failed Frank.
“They’re lucky you were there. Will you help me out with Meg?”
“I will.” I say it and I mean it.
Megan
I’ve never felt so uncertain yet so strong.
I look at myself in the mirror as I get ready to ride to Fort Lee to possibly meet my mother. I wonder if she looks like me. I think about my father and the parts of me that resemble him. She must be blonde. Dad’s light, but not as blonde as I am. She must be small too. Dad’s a house. No way did I get my small frame from his side.
She Runs Away (The Sheridan Hall Series Book 2) Page 18