by Hannah Gray
“I know,” she whispers. “But there’s still a small, small chance that it’s something else.” She tries to sound optimistic, but I can tell that it’s forced and that all she wants to do is fall apart.
“But the chances are slim?” I question, needing to hear the words.
“Yes. They think … they are quite confident that it’s that.” Her voice breaks at the end.
“I’ll get the first flight home,” I say. Holding the phone against my head with my shoulder, I begin rushing around my bedroom, throwing stuff into my duffel bag.
“Okay, sweet boy. I love you.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
“Lane?” her shaky voice says.
“Yeah?”
“I understand it’s hard, but please try not to panic just yet. Your dad is worried about all of his boys. But he’s—” Her voice turns into sobs again. “He’s most worried for you.”
I nod to my empty bedroom as tears run down my own cheeks. I wipe them away as soon as they fall to hide the evidence. “Bye, Mom.”
“Bye, sweetie.”
Ending the call, I waste no time in looking up flights.
“Fuck!” I yell, running a hand over my face.
Go figure that the one time I need to get home in a hurry, there are no flights home until tomorrow. I could drive, but by the time I did that, it would be close to the same amount of time wasted.
A knock at the door causes me to snap my head up.
“Yeah?” I yell, annoyed.
Trent steps in the doorway halfway before finally coming all the way in. He and Mason both got back from their trips yesterday, and I’m suddenly thankful they did. For once, I want someone to talk to.
Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he nods his chin up slightly. “Everything okay, man? Heard you rushing around, followed by some cuss words.”
“My, uh … my old man, he’s not feeling too well. They took him to a specialist in Michigan—” My throat closes up at the end, and I’m unable to finish my sentence without sounding like a little bitch.
“Fuck,” he whispers. “How bad is it?”
“They think—” I stop and wipe my eyes. “They think he has Lou Gehrig’s disease.”
“I’m so fucking sorry, Lane.” He steps closer and puts one arm out, pulling me in for a hug. “I’m so, so sorry. That fucking sucks.”
I nod, unable to answer him without breaking down.
I feel him shake his head. “Life is so fucking unfair sometimes.”
He’s no stranger to tragic shit like this. His own mother died of cancer when he was just a kid. I don’t know a great deal about Lou Gehrig’s disease, but from what I’ve read, it’s a fucking monster of a sickness. Why it had to choose my dad is beyond me.
Slowly, he pulls back and stands in front of me. “You going home?”
“Tomorrow night is the soonest I can get out,” I tell him.
“Well, I can give you a lift to the airport if you want.”
“Thanks,” I mutter.
It dawns on me that Draft Day is next weekend. I always pictured I’d be with Mason, Trent, Coach, and the rest of the team and that it would be the happiest day of my life. That I’d celebrate it with my friends and family. Now, it seems like it will be a dark cloud of a day. By then, we will probably know more about his disease, and fuck, that scares me.
For the rest of the day, I say fuck classes and studying. I’m not in the right state of mind to even be in a classroom right now. Besides, getting drunk until I black out sounds much better. I can’t get to Michigan until tomorrow night anyway, so I might as well day drink the hours away.
Trent and Mason don’t go too far. Luckily, Trent filled Mason in for me so that I wouldn’t have to retell what’s going on. These guys might drive me crazy at times, but they are family.
A wave of guilt hits me for keeping the truth about Memphis from them. I never wanted to be a snake to my friends, yet that’s exactly what I’ve been doing. I decide then and there that once I get back from Michigan, I’m going to tell them the truth. They deserve that much.
Memphis
It’s nearly midnight when my phone rings, pulling me from my sleep. Sleep is usually hard for me to find. But lately, I’m out right when my head hits the pillow.
Rubbing my eyes, I see Lane’s name flashing across the screen.
Confused, I answer, “Hello? You’d better have a damn good excuse for calling at this hour.”
“Memphissss,” he slurs, clearly drunk. “Baby, I’m outsiiiide your door.”
Quickly, I sit up in bed. “What the hell do you mean, you’re outside my door?”
“It’ssss cold out. You gonna let me in or what?”
Throwing the blankets off, I make a dash for the door. It’s only when I swing the door open that I remember I am barely clothed. Lane’s eyes widen as they roam over my body.
“Hey, beautiful.” He gives me a lopsided grin. “Miss me?”
“Get in here already. It’s cold out,” I say, pulling him through the door.
He’s barely inside, and his lips are on mine.
“Cut it out.” I shove him away.
He looks so broken, haunted even. “Why? I need you, Memphis. Please,” he pleads.
Annoyed, I yank him to my bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind me. “What are you doing? And how the hell did you get here? You’d better not have driven in this condition.”
Collapsing onto the bed, he shakes his head. “No, silly girl. I waited for the guys to go to bed, and then I walked here.”
“Oh, right,” I say, rolling my eyes, “because Trent can’t find out your embarrassing secret.”
“You know that isn’t it,” he continues to slur. “I just don’t want him to be mad at me. He’s fucking family.”
“Why did you come here?” I ask softly, sitting next to where he lies. He doesn’t answer right away, so I ask another question, “And why are you drunk on a Monday?”
Reaching up, he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. His eyes look so lost, like he’s a million miles away. “I just needed to see you.”
“Didn’t want to wait till tomorrow?” I smile.
He averts his eyes away from me and toward the ceiling. “Tomorrow, I’ll be headed to Michigan.”
I know Michigan is where his family lives, though from what he has told me, he doesn’t visit there that often even though he’s close with his family.
For some reason, that makes me panic. The thought of him taking off and going so far away. Even though we’ve had to sneak around, we see each other every other night. Sometimes even more. It’s safe to say we’ve gotten addicted to each other. Or perhaps it’s the sex with each other we’re addicted to. No, it’s more than that. At least, for me it is. It’s the strongest emotional relationship I’ve ever shared with another human being. Him not being close enough for me to run to scares me.
“Why’s that?”
“Family stuff.”
I give him a small nod. “Okay, do you want to talk about it?”
Sadness fills every feature on his beautiful face. “Not really,” he murmurs. “My dad is sick. I have to go home and deal with that.”
My heart breaks for him. I lost my dad when I was just a young girl, so I’ve felt that same pain; it’s immeasurable.
“I’m so sorry, Lane. I can’t imagine how you are feeling right now.”
He looks back into my eyes, as if searching for something. “You can though. You’ve felt it before. Your dad was sick for a while you said.”
I nod. He remembers what I told him about my father. “He was. It was terrible and will forever be the hardest time in my life.” Reaching for his hand, I squeeze it. “Let’s hope and pray that your dad will be all right. Okay?”
He nods and pulls me down onto him. I snuggle against his warm chest, and within a few minutes, he’s asleep. The look on his face as he sleeps is the same as the night he looked so broken while he cried out for a girl that I might never know.
A girl named Abby.
Lane was a tortured soul long before this news about his dad. And now? Now, I fear this might break him altogether. He has never told me about his past, but I have been around him enough to know that he carries a certain pain inside of him that weighs him down like an anchor. When he laughs, it’s a heavenly sound. What makes it so special is, it doesn’t happen that often. Whatever he carries is so dark and ugly that it has sucked so much life out of him. And it breaks my damn heart.
thirty-eight
Lane
A soft hand shakes me, attempting to wake me up. I try to force my eyes open, but fuck, it’s a job.
Memphis’s soft, sweet voice speaks low, “Lane. Lane, wake up.”
“Mmm. I’m up.” Panic that I’ve slept all damn day hits. “What time is it?”
“It’s only eight thirty in the morning. I wasn’t sure what time you were leaving for Michigan; I didn’t want you to be late.”
Shit. If she knows I’m going to Michigan, I must have told her about my dad. I don’t even remember how the hell I got here last night.
“I don’t have to be at the airport until four thirty, but it’s good you woke me. Trent and Mason are probably worried sick.”
They knew how upset I was last night. I’m sure they think I got so fucked up that I’m now in a ditch somewhere.
Grabbing my phone from the nightstand, I see three missed calls from Trent and two from Mason. Along with some text messages.
Dialing Mason, I signal to Memphis to stay quiet.
“Dude, what the fuck?” he answers on the first ring.
“I know; I know. Sorry. I’m fine. I visited a friend.”
“Fuck, man.” His voice turns quieter, as if trying to hide something. “If you weren’t going through this stuff with your family, Trent would probably cut your dick off and feed it to a dog. He woke up at five a.m. for his workout and saw your door wide open with you nowhere to be found.”
Cringing, I ask, “So, I assume he’s mad?”
“He’s just worried, man. We both were. You don’t have the best track record, you know?” Sighing, he says, “You were so upset about your dad. We had no fucking idea where you went. You can’t pull that shit anymore.”
“I know. I’ll be home soon,” I say, grimacing. I should have at least left a note. Who am I kidding? I was so fucked up that I was only thinking of myself.
“All right, my dude. I’ll get the monster under control for you.”
“Appreciate it,” I say and hang up.
I look up to see Memphis in only a towel, her hair pulled up on top of her head in some messy thing that resembles a damn bird’s nest. A sexy fucking bird nest though.
She gives me an apologetic smile. “I have class this morning. But I can skip if you need someone to talk to?”
Shaking my head, I hold my hand up. “No, don’t do that. I have to get going anyway.”
She nods. “Okay.” Her eyes darken slightly. “I need to take a quick shower. Will you be here when I get out?”
Drinking her in like she’s water, I push myself off the bed and walk toward her. In one swift move, I have her in my arms. She squeals but throws her arm around my shoulder.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“No,” I growl. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says coyly.
“Looking at me like that. Wearing only this,” I say, rubbing my hand up her towel, stopping at her thigh. Shaking my head, I tsk her. “You knew what was going to happen.”
Biting her lip, she nods. “Maybe I did.”
“Is your roommate here?”
“No, she works at Coffee Hut and does the morning shift on Mondays. Why?”
A grin breaks across my face. “Good.”
I walk us toward the bathroom, and it doesn’t take long for her to figure out just what I’m up to.
Shutting the door and locking it behind us, I set her down on her feet. First, I peel my boxers off, setting my already-very-hard dick free. Seeing her in that towel, knowing there was nothing underneath it, turned me on. The things this girl does to me. When it comes to her, I have no control.
Reaching in the shower, I turn the water on hot and then turn back toward my prey.
“Take the towel off,” I demand.
She obeys, dropping it to the floor, revealing her gorgeous, bare body. Reaching up, she pulls her hair tie out, causing her long black hair to fall over her shoulders and down her back.
“Good girl.”
Lifting her up by her ass, I walk us into the shower. I press her back against the wall so that the water flows down her body onto both of us.
Pulling back, I look at her as the water runs down her beautiful face and onto her chest. When she tilts her head, her bright blue eyes burn into mine as I thrust myself inside of her and watch her visibly shudder.
I might have been pissed when I learned she was a virgin. And I’m sure it will make this that much harder on her when it ends, but the fact that I’m the only man who’s ever been inside of her is hot. She was uncharted territory until now. Even though we hold no future together, I will always be her first. No man can take that from me.
As I move into her over and over again, her eyes never leave mine. Water drips down her face and onto her lips before falling onto the shower floor.
We don’t say a word. We don’t need to. And even though fucking her is the last thing that should be on my mind right now, it’s exactly what I need.
Her back arches, her eyes glaze over, and I can tell she’s close. I’m close, too, but I don’t have a condom. When I feel her squeeze around me, I know she’s there.
Holding off long enough for her to come down from her high, I pull out just in time. Taking me into her hand, she only needs to pump a few times, and I’m spilling myself onto her, still never breaking eye contact as our chests heave up and down.
I’ve slept with a lot of girls. But nothing has ever compared to whatever we just did. Not ever, even with Abby. And that makes me feel like a dirtbag. The lowest of the low. But it’s the truth, and I can’t deny that.
Once we’re done, we stand there in the shower and let the spray wash both of our bodies. She clings to my body tightly, and I hold her right back, as if we’re keeping each other safe from the cruel reality that waits outside of this shower.
thirty-nine
Lane
“Thanks for giving me a lift,” I say to Trent as we turn down the road for the airport.
“Yep,” he grumbles.
“Look, I didn’t mean to worry everyone last night. I just had to get out.”
Honestly, I don’t even fucking remember leaving, but he doesn’t need to know that. He’ll just start calling me a lush again.
He pulls his black ball cap down even lower on his head. “Maybe if you hadn’t just told us your dad had a fatal disease and then gotten so drunk that you could barely stand before—oh, I don’t know—taking off in the middle of the night, I wouldn’t have gotten so fucking mad,” he says, keeping his voice low.
“Look, I fucked up. But, Jesus Christ, Trent, cut me some slack right now.” My voice rises, and I feel myself getting more pissed off with each passing second. “Can you just let me off the hook this one fucking time?!”
Looking at me, he eyes me over before eventually nodding his chin once. “Yep.”
When we pull up to the airport, I reach in the back and grab my duffel bag. “Thanks again.” I start to jump out when his voice stops me.
“Lane?”
“Yeah?” I say, looking at Trent.
“I’m sorry about your dad. And for … being a dick. We just, uh …” He awkwardly messes with the bill on his hat. Apologies have never really been Trent’s thing. “We worry about you, man—that’s all.”
I nod once. “I know.” Reaching in, I pat his shoulder. “It’s all right. I’ll call you when I land.” I shut the door.
I feel like
I’m Mason and Trent’s teenage kid who does shit like escaping out the window to go to parties and missing curfew. Hell, I’m sure living with me hasn’t been easy. I certainly test the limits for someone who is an athlete with the potential to go clear to the NFL. Trent and Mason are both much more responsible and disciplined. I know in the end, them giving me a hard time, constantly being on my case, is only because they care.
And suddenly, I feel like a prick again for the lies I’m keeping from Trent.
Fuck my life.
Memphis
Staring at the faces before me, I hold the book Of Mice and Men for the students to see. “Have any of you read this book?”
Most shake their heads, some nod, and as usual, a select few laugh or roll their eyes.
Gotta love high school kids.
“Okay, this is the next book we will read as a class. Even if you have read it before, please read it as a review. Or at least skim it.” Passing the books around, I don’t miss the dirty looks a few of the girls give me. Some of the kids here are downright jerks. “You need to read the first three chapters this weekend.” Handing out a stack of papers to be passed around, I point to one. “And then just like the other books, you will fill this out. Everyone understand?”
They nod in unison.
“Great.” Glancing at the clock, I see there’s less than a minute left until the bell rings. “By the way, if you use SparkNotes, Mrs. Dillion will know. Don’t do it.”
Normally, I wouldn’t give them the warning, but Mrs. Dillion ran to the restroom, and I’d like to give them a fair shot at getting a good grade. Most of them genuinely think teachers won’t catch on to the use of SparkNotes, though many teachers will. I had friends who had to redo assignments for using SparkNotes word for word.
A girl wearing an extremely annoyed facial expression raises her hand. “Why can’t we, like, read it and, like, use SparkNotes?”
I smile. “That’s an excellent question, Allie. You can use both if, and only if, you actually do the reading. I understand SparkNotes can help you understand what you’ve read in short summary; however, if you are using it as the primary reading instead of the actual book, you’re missing a great deal of information.” I glance around the room. “Does everyone understand?”