16. Chapter 13
T he last few weeks have been a blur of school work, cafe, and avoiding Banks. I’ve done a pretty good job of it, too. Football takes up a lot of his time now, it’s like the old Banks is slowly starting to come back. I’ve seen him laughing with the other guys, and his hair’s grown out, showing off the bright copper strands.
I can practically feel the memory of the soft waves combing through my fingers as we laid intertwined in my bed back home.
My heart aches every time I see him laugh or smile at someone, wishing he would look at me like he used to. How I would catch his eyes on me anytime I was baking and see his lips tip up in a smile I’d come to realize was only for me.
Now, we’re all in the same car, and Banks hasn’t looked at me once. The house looks the same on the outside as it always does, but the inside is decorated with Happy Birthday signs and streamers, like something out of a kid’s dream.
“Happy Birthday!” Our dads, Fern, Creed, Candy, and Manson, shout when we walk in. Banks turns red, and Talon and Toby join in on the off-key song sung at every birthday celebration. I enjoy watching him squirm.
The gift in my pocket weighs the denim down and makes my muscles all gooey. I know he’ll love it, but I worry about giving it to him. If he knows it’s from me… I don’t think I can take any more shots to my heart when it comes to him.
“Happy Birthday, kid,” Creed says, while Nile brings him in for a hug, “Nineteen years.”
“Weird, right?” He mumbles, “How old are you now? Seventy?”
Diego grips his shoulders and holds him out to look at him, “Still young enough to kick your ass.”
Banks laughs and pulls his dad in for a hug. It’s a rare occurrence, something I’ve not seen him do in a long time, with both arms wrapped around his dads shoulders. Diego whispers something in his ear, and Banks buries his head between his dad’s shoulder and neck for a minute, nodding before lifting his head and smiling almost hesitantly at Fern.
“Thank you for this,” he says, gesturing to all the decorations and food lining the island. It’s not like last time when Fern made a homemade spread. This time there’s pizza, chicken wings, and enough ranch to drown the horses outside.
A birthday cake–which is probably confetti cake with vanilla icing–sits in the middle of it all. Banks is an easy one to please because he normally doesn’t eat sweets. So when he does, he enjoys the simple flavors. Fern squeals when Cin and Gemma walk in. They took a different car, and part of me wants to ask to ride back with them.
It’ll probably be less awkward that way.
She rushes Cin and asks a ton of questions after she’s satisfied with her squeeze. All three of them talk a mile a minute, and I love it. How Fern genuinely cares about us even though she has no ties to us other than Creed.
“Go ahead, birthday boy,” Creed chuckles. “Make your plate, the old men are starving.”
Everyone laughs, and conversation flows as we clean our plates and watch the game on TV in the living room. Soon, the conversation shifts to Banks and how the team is doing.
“It’s surprisingly good,” he stoically replies as if the loved ones around us can’t tell he’s in a better mood. He hates celebrating his birthday. Ever since his mother died, he hasn’t wanted to. But today, he’s all smiles and analyzing the players on the screen with his dad.
“The season’s already started, but I’m not surprised you walked on to the team,” Diego’s grumbly voice proclaims, and everyone nods their heads. Banks is an incredible athlete, so it’s nice to see him get back into that part of his life.
“I haven’t played,” Banks mutters to himself, but I hear it. His eyes find mine, and we look away from each other quickly. The gift burns heavier in my pocket. Part of me wants to leave it on his bed down the hall and never speak of it. The other part wants to see him open the gold chain with a football hanging in the center.
“Didn’t the coach offer to let you start in the next game?” Talon grumbles.
Banks cuts his eyes toward his cousin and gives him the finger, “Yes, he did, gossip queen.”
Talon rolls his eyes, “Better they find out now than the day before and scramble to show up because you know they will.”
Banks looks at his dad and nods, “I’m playing next Friday night.”
“Gemma made posters in art, and Cin found a portable heater since it’s started to get cooler in the evenings,” Toby adds into the mix while Diego, Nile, and my dad all talk about coordinating the evening.
After I’ve cleaned my plate, I head to the kitchen where Cin, Gemma, and Fern are all standing around the dip, mindlessly eating and gabbing. They don’t stop either as I pile on more food to my plate. I shouldn’t eat this, I’ve gained a significant amount of weight since last year. With everything going on with Banks, food is my comfort, but I realize I’m about to be stuffed sick.
I just don’t care anymore.
Spooning ranch onto my plate for the pizza, I grab another water from the fridge and head back out to the living room. Banks’s red hair catches my eye down the hall, and my gut tells me it’s now or never.
Putting my plate down on the table, I slink back out and head down the hall to his room. Arguing pulls my attention even further toward his space. I can hear his dad’s deep voice and Banks’ that’s almost just as deep.
“For all of us,” Diego says, “You and I both knew it was coming.”
“And that’s why Fern was upset last time we were here… because it’s happening now?” My foot snags the carpet, and I huff out a breath of relief when I catch myself, but the conversation comes to a halt. Diego comes out of the room with a stern look on his face and walks past me to the living room.
Banks follows him out, doesn’t even offer me a glance, and heads in the same direction his father went. His features look sharper than before as if he’s clenching his jaw. Banks doesn’t look at us, and his features don’t change.
Pretending to use the bathroom beside his room, I wash my hands and head out, only to find everyone gathered in the living room and Fern on Creed’s lap with wide eyes and his arms banded around her.
“What’s… going on?” I ask since the once loud room is dead quiet, and everyone is staring at me.
Fern’s face morphs from sadness to anger, and she tries to stand, hitting Creed’s chest with everything she’s got until he eventually lets her go, and she storms up the stairs.
“Banks?” I ask because everyone’s now staring at him, and no one is saying anything. “Will someone please tell me what happened?”
“Banks has agreed to marry a girl from the Irish mob boss's family,” Talon grits out. He’s pissed, and if his white knuckles around Cin’s fingers don’t give that away, the way her face falls when our eyes meet does.
“What?” I choke out. I can’t believe the words Talon threw out. Banks isn’t marrying anyone, especially someone we don’t know. He wouldn’t do that to me…
“Bridgett’s family threatened Fern,” Creed rumbles. “Because of the contract between Bridgett’s family and me, her father still expects a marriage tie to the Hemlock Empire.”
I mean, I understand well enough. Creed was promised to Bridgett years ago, but he fell in love with Fern, and then shit hit the fan with her, and well, Bridgett got caught in the crosshairs. But that shouldn’t mean we have to take up that responsibility. We–none of us can.
“And what does that have to do with Banks?” My heart feels like it’s lodged itself into my throat, and I have to push the words out.
He can’t, no, he wouldn’t.
I cross the room to bring us closer, but he doesn’t look my way and stays silent. “Please tell me you aren’t serious.”
His eyes slowly inch up to meet mine and they’re completely empty, as if he’s on autopilot. “I am.”
“What about one of you,” I say, gesturing to our fathers, a much more respectable tie to this empire than a nineteen-year-old college freshman. “Why can’t you marry her?” I know I sound childish, and the misery in my voice must be apparent because dad gets up and tries to wrap me in his arms.
“No!” I shout at him, backing away with my eyes still locked on Banks.
“She’s a child, Henry. It wouldn’t be appropriate for any of us to marry her,” Nile says.
“And that makes it okay to pawn off on him?” I’m hallucinating. I have to be because our family would never force any of us to do this.
“We aren’t forcing anyone,” Creed says. I must have said the last part out loud, “He offered.”
Pain unlike anything I’ve ever felt rushes through my body, and I fall to my knees.
“You can’t,” my voice is broken like my chest and sobs crawl their way up my insides.
“I can, and I did,” Banks’s cold, detached voice pierces my ears.
“Don’t–” I swallow roughly and try again, “don’t do this.” I plead around my heaving breaths and pinched throat, “ Please , Banks.” I must have just been stabbed because the way my chest feels like it was cleaved open and my heart ripped out is staggering.
“Henry,” Dad’s arms wrap under mine, and he tries to haul me up, but I can’t. I can’t leave like this, with my heart on the floor in front of Banks’s feet yet again. Only this time, I won’t recover.
Crawling on my hands and knees, I scramble out of my dad’s arms and make my way over to where he’s sitting, as if he didn’t just implode both of our lives, “Why? I’ve waited . I’ve done everything to help you…” The silence in the room is deafening as I hiccup a breath into my lungs.
“I know you love me, Goddammit Banks!” At this point, I just want any kind of reaction from him. Something .
He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even spare me a glance as I make an absolute fool out of myself in front of all of the people I love. “Look at me, you motherfucker!” I scream. I don’t know when the tears started to fall or when my hands gripped his knees, but here I am–soaking his knees in my tears while he ignores me.
“I’ll never forgive you,” I whisper, turning to face everyone else. “If you let this happen, I’ll never forgive any of you.”
“Henry,” Dad crouches down. “He volunteered, it’s his choice.”
“HE LOVES ME!” Turning back to him, I sit up taller so he has nowhere else to look but at me. “Tell them Banks, tell them you made a mistake.”
Slowly, he lowers his eyes to mine, and I feel it in my gut.
He’s about to shatter what’s left of my heart.