A God in Carver (Carver High #1)

by Haven Francis

  “Die, probably. Hold this on your eye and your nose for a while.”

  He lays back and lets the bag of peas rest on the right side of his face. “That feels good.”

  I lay down beside him and stare up at the ceiling. “Is that the first time he’s hit you?” I ask, still shocked that the Roger I knew as a child did that to him.

  “Yeah, surprisingly it is.”

  “What does he usually do when he’s disappointed in you?”

  “He prefers mental abuse. And threats. Every once in a while he’ll put his hands on me but he knows better than to touch my face or my throwing arm. Last night he lost control. It almost felt good. I didn’t even try to stop him.”

  “How could that have felt good?”

  “I don’t know. It’s like there’s this eruption that you can feel building inside of him but it never explodes, it just keeps threatening to come out and you live in fear of it. You’re just waiting for it. You just want to get it over with.”

  “And now that it’s over with do you feel better?”

  He lets out a bitter laugh. “I shouldn’t – I mean, my brothers and my sister saw it. That’s not good for them. But at the same time, none of us can keep on pretending that we are a perfect family. They all know who he is now and he no longer gets to act like he’s the perfect dad when he’s with them. He no longer gets to be the good guy.”

  I close my eyes and think about Kellen, Dylan and Meghan. It’s hard to think of them getting hurt, more so than Brandon, even.

  “Remember that guy my mom dated for a couple of years when we were kids – Dean Lance?”

  “That guy was such a grease ball. I hated him.”

  “He was one of the worst,” I agree. “He was the first person I ever saw punch someone in the face. And that person was my mom. I was eleven, just like Meghan. It was terrifying. Her eye swelled up and she was crying. We were all crying. But then she made him leave and we never saw him again. The three of us kind of bonded over the whole thing and after that I was a whole hell of a lot tougher and smarter. It’s not always a bad thing to be exposed to evil. I’m sure your family is confused and sad this morning and I’m sure none of them will ever look at Roger the same way again, but you’re right. At least they know and at least they didn’t have to find out by getting the shit kicked out of them themselves. If that’s who he really is then they need to know that.”

  “Hopefully you’re right,” he laments. His phone rings and he picks it up then hits ignore. “Awesome, they got my cell number.”

  “Who?”

  “The Daily Sentinel. If they have it that means all the media outlets do.” He turns his phone off and sighs.

  “I’m gonna fix this, Brandon,” I tell him.

  “Fix what? It doesn’t matter what people think about me. All that matters now is that we played like shit last night and lost the game.”

  “You lost because you weren’t playing as a team… because of the article.”

  “If the entire team is gonna turn on me over that then we have bigger problems than your article.” He takes the peas off his face and runs his hands through his hair. “We have a week before our first playoff game. If we can’t get our shit together by then we don’t deserve to make it past the first bracket.”

  “What was Coach Mason calling about?”

  “Tonight’s the end of the season dinner. The one that’s supposed to get us all pumped up for playoffs. He thinks I need to be there but I’m guessing my appearance will just put a damper on the entire thing.”

  “What? You’re thinking about not going, of backing down? Just because they’re all stupid idiots who are persuaded by a ridiculous article in the school paper?”

  “I’m not backing down, I just don’t really give a shit at the moment.”

  “Do you want to win state?”

  “Not as much as I did when I woke up yesterday, but yeah, I always want to win state.”

  “You have to go tonight, Brandon. You have to show them that you’re still their leader, that you’re still confident even after your defeat. That nothing can bring you down.”

  He lets out a bitter laugh. “That might be hard to pull off, Tatum, seeing how I’m feeling leveled this morning.”

  I sit up on my knees and grasp his shoulders. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself, asshole. You’re Brandon Eastman. Star quarterback of the reigning state champion Carver Cougar’s. You’re the most talented high school quarterback to come along in over a decade. You pulled off a win without any of those assholes. You’ve been carrying this team for four seasons. You’re a smart player. You know how to motivate people. You are inspiring. You can figure this out. You need to show them that they can’t bring you down. That a loss can’t bring you down. That your dad can’t bring you down. That some bitch who writes for the school paper can’t bring you down.”

  He laughs then pulls me down to him and wraps his arms around me. “You’re right. I need to do this. I can do this. Are you gonna come with me?”

  “That’s a joke, right?”

  “Kind of. I mean, it would make me feel better if you were there, but I’m not sure you’re welcome.”

  “That’s okay. I can go back to hating anything football related. I have to admit though, for the few weeks where I was part of the whole football scene I enjoyed it a whole hell of a lot more than I wanted to.”

  My phone sounds from the bedside table so I remove myself from Brandon’s arms to grab it. Nash’s name is flashing on the screen.

  “He’s up bright and early,” Brandon says.

  “Should I answer it? Get his perspective on the situation?”

  He shrugs his shoulders so I hit answer then put it on speaker. “Hey, Nash.”

  “Holy shit, you’re actually answering your phone?”

  “Yeah, I guess I am. What’s up?”

  “I just wanted to hear your voice. I miss you.”

  “Wow, that’s really sweet,” I tell him, sarcastically. “I heard you guys lost the game last night.”

  He laughs than says, “Yeah, we were a complete shit show. I mean, I did my part but unlike The God of Carver I’m not in a position where I can carry the team all on my own.” I see Brandon shaking his head in my peripheral vision.

  “What’d you think about the article?”

  “What is there to think? The kid’s a dumb ass. He knows better than to say stupid shit like that.”

  “So you don’t think I just made it up? You think he really thinks those things.”

  “What? Of course you didn’t make it up. And yeah, I think he would say something like that to you. I think he believes he’s better than the rest of the team put together. I think he’s full of himself.”

  “That’s sad, Nash. He’s your best friend. I’m assuming you stood by him yesterday while everyone else was shunning him.”

  “Of course I did. I mean, what the hell do I care what he thinks of himself? He takes this game too damn seriously. If he wants to play God, that’s his own problem. I’ll always stand by his stupid ass.”

  Brandon lets out a sound of disbelief and I slap him on the arm to shut him up.

  “Have you tried to call him today to see how he’s doing?”

  He lets out a frustrated sigh. “Why is it that the only thing you want to talk about lately is Brandon?”

  “I’m just wondering what the two of you are gonna do to win your next game?’

  “Am I talking to reporter Tatum? Since when do you give a shit about football? If you’re finally ready to talk to me, this isn’t what I want to be talking about. I need to see you, Tatum. I need to talk to you, like really talk to you. I can’t do this… I don’t know what to do without you.”

  Brandon gaffs and I give him a piercing glare. “I heard you’re doing just fine without me, that all your female fans are happy to have you back.”

  “I’m not doing fine. I’m not even close to fine. Just give me a chance to talk to you. That’s all I want.”

&
nbsp; “Who’d you sleep with last night?”

  “Shut up, Tatum. No one.”

  I laugh at that. “You’re finally free from me, Nash. There’s no need to lie. Which one of those deserving girls got to comfort you after your loss?”

  “I’m not free. I’m living inside of my head. I’m replaying that night. I’m remembering how I thought you were never coming back. I’m thinking about how fucking stupid that was. I’m thinking about every memory I’ve ever had with you. I would give anything to go back and do that night over. I would give anything to have a second chance with you.”

  “That was your second chance, Nash. And you blew it. I’m not coming back to you. There’s nothing you can do or say to change that.”

  He’s silent for a while and when he finally speaks he sounds like he’s choked up. “I get it if you can’t trust me, if you no longer love me. I deserve that. But Tatum, I can’t lose you completely. I can’t go from having you be everything to having you be nothing. Can we just talk, just hang out, just try to be in the same room together? I’ll take anything.”

  I can feel the pain of losing him contracting inside of my body. There are pieces of me that want nothing more than to be with him again. To have him back. “Not now, Nash. Maybe someday, but not now. I have to go. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

  “Tatum…”

  “Bye, Nash,” I tell him, ending the call.

  I lay back in my bed and focus on my breath until I can speak. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? I mean, Presley and Angel told me how unaffected he’s been at school. You told me that he was happy to be free of me. He slept with Jolee when he was supposedly in love with me. Yet he can come up with that bullshit to throw in my face. God, he is unbelievable.”

  “He didn’t mean what he said to me last night. I mean, he did want to keep you to himself and he didn’t want you with me, but he’s not happy that you’re gone. And we both know how Nash operates, he never shows his pain or emotion. He always acts like everything is great. We both know how much he loves you.”

  “Are you taking his side? Are you suggesting I forgive him?”

  “I was with him that night, Tatum, at his house, listening to his dad and brother pound into him the fact that you left just like Nash’s mom did. They had him convinced he would never talk to you again. He didn’t have sex with Jolee because he wanted her or he couldn’t go one night without getting it from someone or even because he was so hammered he wasn’t capable of thinking. He did that because he was hurt and pissed and he was trying to move on from you. I’m not taking his side. I’ll never make that mistake again. No matter what happens between the three of us, I will always choose you from now on. But yeah, I am kind of suggesting you forgive him eventually if you can. I don’t think you should take him back. I think you deserve so much more than him, but I think forgiveness, sometime in the future, would be okay.”

  “I’ll think about it. Maybe. But I have bigger things to worry about right now, like getting you ready for this dinner you have to go to.”

  30

  “No, Tally. Hell, no. I already shaved for you and it hurt like a bitch. That’s it. That’s all I’m doing.”

  “Brandon, you have to. You can’t show up there looking all busted up and broke down. You have to look strong and proud,” she says about the makeup… makeup… she’s trying to put on my nose and my eye.

  “You have to trust her, Brandon. She does all the girl’s makeup at the strip club,” Tatum tells me without a hint of humor in her voice.

  “Is that supposed to be reassuring?” I ask Tatum. “She puts makeup on strippers so I have nothing to worry about?”

  She rolls her eyes like I’m being ridiculous. “No one outside of this room will know you have it on.”

  “Jesus. Fine,” I tell them, closing my eyes like Tally’s been telling me to do for the last five minutes.

  She’s working on me for so long that I’m pretty sure I look like a drag queen.

  “Okay, you can look,” she finally tells me.

  I crack one eye open at a time. “Holy shit,” I mutter through my amazement. You can’t see any of my bruising. Tatum took the bandage off my eye and even that gash is barely visible.

  “Told you,” Tally says.

  “You look great,” Tatum tells me, coming behind me to look at my reflection in the mirror of Tally’s vanity. “What do you think about his hair?” she asks her sister while running her fingers through it. It feels so good that I don’t even bother protesting.

  “We should definitely do something with it,” she says, exiting the room.

  “Does she cut strippers’ hair too?”

  “No, but in high school all the guys would come over here to get their hair cut by her. I was a little worried about her putting makeup on you but she won’t fuck up your hair.”

  Tally comes back into the room then with her hands full. She sets her supplies on her vanity then tells me to take my shirt off.

  “Really, Tally?” Tatum says, giving her a distrusting glare.

  “You want me to get hair all over that dress shirt? Off, Brandon. The undershirt too.”

  I laugh at the two of them then unbutton my shirt that I retrieved, along with most of my other clothes and whatever else I thought I might need for the rest of my life, from my house this afternoon. As promised by Mom, my dad wasn’t there and I had a chance to let the rest of them know I was fine and that everything would be okay. Plus, I got to hug them all goodbye.

  “Dear Lord,” Tally says when I have my shirts off. “I swear they didn’t make them like that when I was in high school.”

  “Tally,” Tatum scolds her. “Shut the fuck up and cut his hair.” I notice when she lets her eyes pause at my reflection in the mirror and I swear her face goes pink. Which brings back memories of last night. Which makes my entire body feel hot and I’m grateful that I have two layers of shirts resting on my lap.

  I didn’t realize until her lips were on mine how badly I wanted to kiss her. How much I craved her body on mine. How much pent up desire I had stored away for her. I hope to God that’s all it was: pent up desire that just needed to be let out once.

  But, god damn it, I’ve never felt anything like what I felt last night. Not once. All those times making out with Summer and I have never felt what I did last night. Shit.

  I don’t want to want her. I don’t want to entertain the idea of leaving Summer and trying to start something with Tatum. But I can’t ignore the fact that there is something between us. Something natural and easy and fun. Some profound thing with deep roots. Something I don’t want to lose.

  Tatum let me know I can stay here as long as I need to and as much as I would love to take advantage of that offer, I know it’s a bad idea. I know that every minute I spend with her, listening to her talk about my life and hers through her perspective, watching her light up every time I make her smile, joking around with her like we never stopped being the center of each other’s universe, holding her in my arms and wishing I never had to let go – it’s all bad.

  It’s bad for her, it’s bad for me. It’s really bad for Summer. I don’t know what I’m gonna tell Summer. I would be a hypocrite if I didn’t tell her what happened last night after the way I lit into Nash. I know it would kill her that I did this behind her back, even after the talk we had when she told me she wanted me to give it a shot with Tatum. I don’t want to hurt her. Hurting Summer is the last thing I want to do. I love her. I want to be with her. I don’t want to lose her.

  “What do you think?” Tally asks and I look at myself for the first time since she started cutting my hair.

  “I think I look like a hipster,” I tell her. The sides of my black hair are shaved down short and she put something in the rest of it that has it all shiny and wavy.

  “It looks good, Brandon. Really, really good,” Tatum says lazily and I have to suppress my desire to pull her into my arms and kiss those lips of hers. Jesus. Kissing her was… mind blowing. It’s gonna be h
ard to forget how good her lips felt in mine and how good her tongue tasted. “Put your shirt and tie on and then it won’t look like you’re trying so hard to be a male underwear model.”

  “God, you totally could be,” Tally says, eyeing my skin again.

  “You can go now,” Tatum tells her.

  “You’re in my room.”

  Tatum grabs my shirts off my lap and stalks out of Tally’s room so I follow her. “Thanks Tally,” I tell her on the way out.

  “Any time,” she says with a wink.

  In Tatum’s room I put my shirts back on and Tatum gets my neck tie secured. Having her this close to me, having her hands on me is just confirmation that I have to keep my distance. I like it way too damn much. “You look so good,” she tells me with a lop sided grin as she assess me with her hands on her hips.

  “Thanks,” I tell her. “For being here for me. Being with your family, with you, having you whip my sorry ass into shape… I needed it. There’s no other place I’d rather be.”

  “You’ve been good for me, too. I haven’t thought about anything but you all day. It’s been a nice break from my recent thoughts.”

  I smile at her and grab a hold of her hands. “We’re gonna be okay, Tatum,” I tell her.

  “I know. I’m not gonna quit being a pain in your ass until I know you’re okay.”

  “I mean us – me and you. No matter what happens, we’re gonna be okay.”

  “Brandon…” she begins and I can tell by the look in her eyes and the tone of her voice that she’s gonna give me another rant about the fact that what happened between us was a mistake that will never happen again, so I cut her off.

  “Listen to me, Tatum. These last twenty four hours have been eye opening for me. You said that in eighth grade when people stopped talking to you and you stopped talking to them, that you learned who really cared about you and meant the most to you. That article you wrote was my eighth grade. Yesterday I learned who the people are that really care about me. Sadly, there were a lot less of them than I thought there would be. But more importantly I learned who the one person was that I wanted by my side when I was at my lowest and that person is you.” She starts to protest, but I stop her. “That doesn’t mean anything, Tatum. I mean, I don’t know if it means anything beyond the fact that, like it was for you when you were in L.A., there is still something that remains between us from our childhood that makes us need each other when we need someone the most. That makes it easy for us to talk to each other. That gives us comfort. You’re my best friend. You always have been and I never want to lose that again. That’s all I know right now.