Be My Game Changer: A Sports Romance(38)

28





CARTER





I know I have too much damn time on my hands. Why else would I be sitting in the driveway of my mom’s house on a Sunday evening? Maybe it’s the fact that my phone hasn’t rang or received one message from Avery since I walked out of her classroom Friday morning. Maybe it’s the thought that Bodie and the Whitlocks are having a wonderful family Sunday while I’m left to stare at the wall of my house or the wall of the clubhouse. Alone.

Walking up the stone walkway, I push the doorbell and take a breath. My mom’s expression tells me she’s as shocked to see me as I am to be at her doorstep.

“Carter, is everything all right?” She gestures for me to come inside. I step over the threshold of the home I purchased for her years ago for the first time.

“No. Nothing is all right.” I glance around the house that looks inviting but makes my skin crawl because I feel so out of place. “I want to know why.”

“Why what?” Mom watches me with confusion. “Carter, come in, have a seat. We can sort out whatever is on your mind.”

“You don’t even know what’s going on with me, so you have no clue what’s on my mind. I live three miles from here, and I haven’t seen you in over a year.”

“You never accepted my invitation to visit, so I stopped trying.” Her eyes drop to the floor. Avoiding. Hiding. That’s what she does. Pretends like it never happened.

“Why did you let him do it? Why did you look the other way? Why didn’t you get us the hell away from him?”

Her hand swipes at her cheek, but she never looks at me. “Fear. Of him. Of the unknown. Of everything. I wish a million times over I’d done things differently and got us both out of there.” As her shaking hands swipe at her face, the only thing I feel is remorse and resentment for her, nothing that a son should feel towards his mother. Regret. She regrets it. But it’s not enough. Action. That’s what I needed. Safety. Security. Protection. Anything to get away from my father. And even if she should’ve done it, I can’t help but pity her. She suffered at the hand of the bastard too. Only, I can’t get past it enough to want her in my life on a regular basis. Forgiveness. That’s what I need to give her. But I don’t know how.

As I’m walking out, my mother calls my name. “Thank you, for doing for me what I couldn’t do for you.”

“No one deserves to be in his clutches.” Walking out, I’m not sure what I wanted from her, but I knew damn well I wouldn’t find it in this house. And I won’t ever.

I shouldn’t have come back.

This town. This team. It’ll always be his.

Driving straight to the stadium, I pull into the lot driving a little faster than I should be even though I dread getting on the bus. Squealing to a stop, I see Dundee flagging me down.

“Lowe. Get your ass on this damn bus, now.”

Why had I hoped it left without me? I step out of my truck, only my key fob and cell phone on me as I board the bus. The open seat next to Dundee is unfortunately the one I have to sit in. Which means this will be a long-ass ride.

“You should’ve left without me,” is my response to Coach’s bitching about me holding the team up.

“Is she worth your career, Lowe? Because that’s what she’s gonna cost you if you screw up this season.”

“It’s not about her.” Or is it? I was fine until she brushed me off, lying to get rid of me. “She won’t be waiting for me when I get off the bus this time.”

He mumbles a few colorful words under his breath. “Then what the hell is it?” He glances around before lowering his voice. “Did Cash do something?”

“No. Not yet.” But I know he’s up to something. It’s the calm before the storm with him. The moment he lets me think life is perfect and going great, he brings down the hammer to crush whatever good exists. Because the only thing the miserable bastard wants is for everyone else to be as miserable as him.

“He won’t be able to do a damn thing to you if you keep your head on straight.”

Too late.





29





AVERY





The bell rings, signaling the end of first period. E.J. makes his way over to my desk but not before yelling across the room that he’ll catch up to his friend.

“Ms. W, I really need you to talk to your boy when he gets home tomorrow night. His last two starts haven’t been all that great.”

I know. I’d thought the same. When the coach walked to the mound for the second time in the same inning, I knew Carter couldn’t get it together and was pulled from the game. “I’m not sure if he’ll be around much.”

“Did y’all break up?” he asks folding his arms over his chest as he nods.

“This conversation is not appropriate, Ernest. Get to your next class before you’re late.”

He huffs, mumbling something about legally changing his name the day he turns eighteen, then he walks out of the room.

Grabbing my phone, I look at the time. He won’t be at the field yet. He’ll probably be at the hotel. And E.J. didn’t need to inform me of Carter’s schedule—I can’t help but follow it even when I try to avoid it. But what I really wish I could’ve avoided was watching last night’s game, because I didn’t recognize any part of the man I know.