When she waved at me, even with my shitty attitude, I couldn’t stop the grin that pulled at the edges of my lips. Damn, she was adorable.
Staring at the little girl still waving eagerly at me, I couldn’t help but note her dimples and her obvious disregard to stranger danger. I suddenly saw the family resemblance. She might not have her mother’s red hair, or blue eyes, but she was total trouble.
Flash walked toward me until she was in touching distance. The little girl started yawning, clearly fighting to keep her head up and her green eyes wide open.
“After that game, I realized when we told our stories, we left some important stuff out,” Millie whispered.
“Is that right? I thought you were done with us talking to each other?”
“You want to give me a hard time about how I’ve been acting, go ahead. But I’m here now, ready for a do-over. And you never met Jessie. You said you didn’t want to be strangers, right? Well that means you need to meet my kid.”
“A do-over?” I asked.
“Yep.”
“And you want this sharing to happen now, I take it?” I muttered in exasperation.
“Unless you hate kids,” Millie replied.
“Don't hate kids, Flash. But you’re changing your tune damn fast. Hell, last night at the club you were too busy to look my way.”
“Yeah well, let’s just say I’ve had you stuck in my head like a bad pop song, and I’ve decided that maybe if I listen to it on repeat, I’ll start to hate it again.”
“You want me to tell you stuff that will make you hate me?”
“To start,” Millie said softly.
“You’re not going to admit it, are you?”
“Admit what?”
“That you’re trying to be that girl, looking to make my problems disappear.”
“Look, let’s not get too philosophical about all this. You can tell me why you aren’t celebrating with the guys or you can tell me to move along. This time it’s your choice.”
“You want to know why I’m not celebrating?”
“Yeah.”
“Your truck here?”
"Of course. Although this time I’m—"
"Keys," I ordered with my hand out stretched.
"Seriously?” Millie groaned.
"Do you want to be standing in the parking lot talking? You chill, I'll drive us somewhere, and you can keep at me, yeah? Otherwise I’m getting on my bike.”
“Bike, Mama! Wanna see bike,” Jessie said to Flash, still struggling to keep those pretty eyes open and speak without yawning but reminded of her latest infatuation. “Mama, see.” The slight whine that escaped her pursed lips was almost as adorable as her drooping head.
“Okay. Here, take the keys quickly,” Millie sighed. “She’s just about to fall asleep and you said the B-word. If we’re lucky, she’ll forget about it. If not, I’ll be living with my nearly two-year-old in an arm cast. Now move. Move.” She pushed me toward her truck.
MILLIE
We were in my car, my hand resting close to his.
We hadn’t spoken since I’d silently strapped a sleepy Jessie into her car seat and thanked him for holding the passenger door open for me. After I climbed in and we drove off, the tension built to mammoth proportions.
We didn’t say a word as we passed the campus. The local coffee stores flashed by and I held my breath as we entered my less-than-ideal suburb. The radio kept playing classic hits from the seventies and eighties. Slightly embarrassed by my musical taste, I kept wishing it would turn into hip-hop or chart-topping music. Unfortunately, almost as soon as we drove away from the stadium, I became too nervous to change the station. Jimmy Cliff started singing “Many Rivers to Cross,” and I couldn’t do or say anything. The song and the tension in the car were freaking me out.
When we drove behind a row of run-down houses and reached a small park, I was shocked. Nestled amongst the trees was a picturesque little playground. From the parking lot, it was almost hidden from view, untouched by the grime that covered everything else within a five-mile radius.
If I weren’t panicked about the secrets he was about to tell me, I might’ve stared at the park with wonder and excitement, imagining Jessie’s future play-dates.
Instead, the consequences of my actions were plaguing me. I still couldn’t believe that I had chased after him. Ordered him to share what was bothering him. I was meant to stay away, protect myself from the foolish ways I could end up hurt. I was meant to be strong. The cool, unfeeling bitch mask was to be duct-taped to my face. Instead, I’d noticed him on the field, detached from everyone, alone and hurting. And I became the bleeding-heart fool who always got me into trouble.
I watched him walk off the field as if he were immune from the joy around him. And I saw myself at Nate’s funeral. The damaged girl, incapable of smiling or laughing. I recognized the loneliness that cloaked his body. The type that transformed how you walk and talk, that helped push everyone away. The type that convinced you that any hand reaching out might latch on, turn into an anchor, and drag you to the bottom.
So, I grabbed my bag, my girl, and ran—toward him and everything I told myself I would stay far away from. I didn’t explain myself to Parker or anyone as I maneuvered through the crowd, pulled by some invisible string. I knew when I got to him that he might not let me get close because of how I’d been acting, but also because when you feel like you’re about to self-combust, you just want to be alone.
But I decided to try. Even if nothing had changed since our last discussion. Even if I still felt ill-equipped for the job of helping someone else sort out their problems. I wasn’t the cheerful girl in the café. I didn’t have any answers to find happiness.
All I knew was he didn’t have a family.
He didn’t have friends.
He didn’t have anyone forcing their way in to help.
I was pretty certain all he had was me.
MILLIE
WE SAT IN SILENCE FOR A little while, staring at the park.
When he finally reached for the door handle to climb out of the truck, I noticed Jessie had fallen asleep. “Do you mind if we don’t go too far?” I whispered. “She’s probably exhausted after the game, and I really don’t want to wake her. She’ll be grumpy. We can still talk though, get some fresh air. I’m sure she’ll be fine in her capsule. But I can’t go too far. Mom fear. Unless, of course, you didn’t bring me here to talk. Then we can just stay in here. Not saying anything. Staring at nothing.” Dear God, I’m rambling. Stop it. Just stop talking.
“Yeah it’s all good. I was just going to walk to the park bench. That close enough?” he asked, pointing to the small bench opposite the jungle gym a few feet from the car.
“Perfect.”
“And I think I need to talk.” His voice was hoarse and thick with emotion. “I think after that game, I need to just say all the shit that’s in my head, and it’s probably best if she can’t hear.”
“Okay,” I whispered before I opened my door carefully and climbed out.
When we both sat down on the bench, it was as if we were strangers. Our knees were held stiffly and pointed straight ahead. Cold air slithered like a snake between us.
“I left the field tonight because I don’t know what’s going to happen when we go back to school. And I don’t deal well with surprises,” Cooper told me softly.
“I get that—” I began to tell him when he choked out a laugh.
“Flash, you couldn’t possibly get that. Unless you know what it’s like to fear everything in your life. Be weak. Indispensable. The only time I haven’t hated my life is when I used to focus on a plan. Taking care of the kids in the group home was the only thing that kept me sane.”
“Kids?”
“Yeah, when my foster homes kept bouncing me around for boosting cars and just general rebellious teenage antics, I landed in this group home. Everyone usually kept to themselves, praying that they’d be the next to bust out. Pretending like the disgusting shit
the social workers and cops were doing in the home wasn’t happening.
“Most of the kids had been older than me when I arrived. I was the first young one to be sent there because my older brother had been there since my parents lost custody. We hadn’t seen each other in years, and I'll just say that there wasn’t a dramatic reunion when we were put under the same roof again. I still felt pretty much alone. That was until I was thirteen and Jake turned up. He was seven and a total punk. Kept at me because he heard my social worker explaining to a potential foster family how I ended up in the home. Jake wanted me to teach him how to boost cars. Told me he was gonna open a chop shop.”
“Please don’t tell me you helped—”
“Babe, his feet couldn’t even reach the pedals. I took him to the community library, told him I learned all about the engines from a book, so if he wanted to boost, he had to learn to read. Lied through my teeth, but he fell for it and learned to read crazy fast. I decided to keep him safe, from the cops and the staff. I was big for my age, so no one messed with me. I had a guy who had failed at adopting me, but no matter what, he watched out for me when I was about Jake’s age, so I decided to do the same. I used to bring him to this park for his birthday. He was too cool for it at first, but when he watched me go down the slide, he slowly got into it. Not too many people know it’s here because of the trees.”
Picturing the big teenager trying to teach a little boy to read and play in the park had my eyes stinging. I reached for his hand, pressed the side of my thigh against his, and rested my head on his shoulder.
“We never really talked about it being our tradition. Then the girls came, Lizzie and Beth. Lizzie was just a year younger than me, and Beth was the same age as Jake. They just seemed to tag along at first, came with us here and to the library. We were all struggling with our pasts, but together it felt—”
“Like you weren’t alone?” I whispered softly.
“Yeah. We never really said that, but yeah. Anyway, after that first year, Jake gave up on wanting to chop cars. He wanted to be an artist. He was a damn good drawer. Plus, he found a book in the library on Paris and the Louvre. He used to make me go through all the pictures with him. Jake liked the landscapes the best. It wasn’t enough for him though, to only get to see the pictures when we went to the library on the weekends, so he tried to steal the book when he was nine and got banned for the rest of the year. He cried and cried that night, stopped talking about learning to paint big landscapes, going to Paris. I think he just started giving up. Never wanted to go back again. Started hanging with some of the kids in the home who were into tagging the train tracks. I should’ve stepped in, but I hadn’t been living a law-abiding life myself, so I didn’t really know what to say. I should’ve gone back to that stupid library and stolen the book for him. Maybe then he would’ve trusted me. He would’ve had it as a reminder that he could rely on me.
“We were always getting put in new foster homes. They don’t like to keep us in the group home for too long. For a while, we would all do whatever it took to end up back together, until Lizzie needed to stay away from the cops and social workers who were on the take, Beth was moved so far that we weren’t sure she’d end up back with us if she acted out, and it looked like Jake actually landed a good home. Then we were all about just waiting until we hit eighteen and could officially adopt each other.”
“So why aren’t they here today?” I whispered, squeezing his hand.
“The Walters, Jake’s last foster home, were going to send him back to the group home—when all of us weren’t there—after finding out he’d been caught tagging trains. The cops called them—my older brother called them, even though I paid him not to. I should’ve known there was always a better deal in the works with Eli. Once they found out about the vandalism, about his visits to the police station, the Walters made their decision. They were waiting outside his foster house when I took him home, the same day I saw you for the first time.
“They had all of his shit already packed up. Laziest fuckers I’ve ever met, hid it behind their age. They never had any fucking time to sit down with him, but they packed his clothes for him,” he told me, his knuckles going white as he clenched the fist he had resting on his knee.
“Coop, look, I know I asked, but you don’t have to tell me,” I murmured softly, my tears already collected in the bottom of my eyes.
“No, I do. I haven’t . . . I’ve never spoken about it before. I think . . . fuck, I think it needs to be said out loud.” He nodded at me before continuing. “I started fighting with them, the Walters. I was angry with them for calling social services without talking to me. To him. For not even giving him a chance to explain or offer a warning to fix his behavior. I’d already scared him, had already convinced him to get his act together. Reminded him of Eli’s deal with the deadbeat pedophiles. Damn it, he panicked, too worried about going back without us. We’d all seen things in that place that we never wanted to feel. He panicked and thought he’d make a run for it. He fucking ran and tripped.
“Little shit was always forgetting to tie his shoelaces. I used to tease him. He could pick a lock to a five-hundred-dollar safe, never forgot to look out for security cameras. Real badass. But remember to tie two stupid thin white laces so they didn’t come undone? That shit he struggled to remember. One second he’s a deer in headlights, running away from us out the front of the Walters’. The next second he’s smashed his head on the cement curb. Bam. Seconds. It took seconds and he was gone. Such a stupid way for him to die, tripping over his goddamn shoelaces. Paramedics said they’d never seen anything like it, a kid hitting his temple on the damn gutter.
“I just fucking stood there. When I told Lizzie, she collapsed at work, stopped talking. Basically went catatonic for a week. I knew how she felt. When it happened, Mrs. Walters started screaming loud enough for their neighbors to come rushing outside. They were the ones who called the ambulance.
“I just stood there staring at his fucking sneakers. I knew he was gone. The light and the fear I had helped put in his eyes weren’t there anymore.”
“Cooper,” I choked out, my face a wreck with tears. My heart was breaking for him.
“I had to make the choices by myself. I offered to pay, so the government let me pick his casket. Pick the damn rock that I get to look at if I ever want to talk to him. Then my brother came to his funeral, the one who’d called the Walters. The one who took bribes and looked the other way when social workers at the group home climbed into kids’ beds. My fucking brother. When I saw him at the funeral, I jumped him. Broke his ribs and smashed his face in. Would do it again. Even though it means I can’t see Lizzie or Beth because they didn’t get locked up. He was never really my family. That word was full of shit. Even after I got put away, Lizzie followed the plan. She turned eighteen and started the adoption process. But see, you can’t associate with criminals and still get to take care of someone from the system, so the two people who’ve ever given a damn about me are people I can’t associate with.”
“They’d have been proud of you today,” I assured him. “You were amazing.”
“That’s just it. I just played in the fucking stadium that we only saw on our beat-up television screen and none of them got to see it. You wanted to know why I wasn’t myself. Because I finally made a dream happen and it’s too late. None of it will help them anymore. It doesn’t matter. It’s just a game now.”
He sounded so defeated. I had no idea what to say, didn’t have enough words. All I wanted to do was hug him and remind him that he wasn’t broken and he wasn’t alone. Neither of us was, if we just stopped being so guarded.
“Fuck it,” I whispered before letting go of his hand and standing up. “Move your hands to the bench,” I ordered.
Without making eye contact, as soon as I noticed his hands had moved, I climbed onto his lap. I’m a fool for doing this. I carefully positioned my knees to comfortably straddle him and not expose my ass to the elements.
“W
hat are you do—”
“Shhh,” I whispered as I put my weight on his lap and felt his arms quickly wrap around my back for support. When I knew I wouldn’t fall, I exhaled, placed my hands on his shoulders, and looked into his eyes.
Lost in his irises’ hills and valleys, I almost forgot why I’d decided that we needed to be this close. Why my head on his shoulder wasn’t enough. When his hands squeezed my skin, as if he were afraid I’d disappear like a dream, I remembered.
I needed him to see me.
“You have a future,” I said quietly. “It might be the game, or it might not be. You might let me in, or you might not. I do know it won’t be anything like what you pictured. What you planned. Because if I’ve learned anything, it’s that none of us get the fantasy future we paint in our minds. If anything, the shit going on in our heads is always working against us.”
I bared parts of my soul and he didn’t reply, just kept staring into my eyes until I felt like he was looking directly at my ghosts.
This time just keep talking.
“Sometimes that hurts. We find ways to forget, create a life where it’s as if the picture is faded and kept in our wallet. On goods days, it’s almost as if that picture is nonexistent. Of course, you always remember. You might even pull it out, start staring, and put yourself in a whole new world of pain. The truth is if you try and hold on to it even for a moment, keep the picture alive, it’ll feed off you. I think the only way to survive is to make other plans and dreams so the picture moves to the back of the pile. Then if you’re lucky, you forget to look at it at all.”
When I finished my attempt to vocalize how it was like for me every day, I leaned forward and rested my forehead to his.
I felt his left hand move from my back until he was tugging on my hair. I shifted back and before I had a chance to react, he softly brushed his lips against mine. Time stopped. The taste of him on my lips, the way he encouraged my mouth to open and allowed his tongue to gently sweep across mine—I was captivated. It was nothing like the library; it was sweet and cautious and filled with so much emotion that I could hear each beat of my heart. My breath caught, we looked into each other’s eyes, and then he kissed me again.
Flash (Penmore #2) Page 14