Chapter Two
CATER
Everywhere I look, I see her.
Sophie.
The sun is high in the sky as I drive down Main Street. It’s just how I remember, like it got stuck in time the day I left. Of course, that comes with constant reminders of Sophie, the girl who my life revolved around the last time I was here. The thought of seeing her again makes my insides feel like they’re twisting up—and not in a good way.
I’m not sure how I thought it would be, but I definitely didn’t anticipate how fucking hard it would be to see Sophie in every part of Ivy Glen. The empty lot of the abandoned theater that was the prime make-out spot for teens back in the day. The town square, where I asked her to be my girlfriend when we were eight years old, and she just looked at me and said I wasn’t “ready for that kind of commitment.”
The bench where we would share ice cream on Thursdays after school.
Every single piece of landscape I pass is soaked in Sophie, and there was a time when I thought it would always be that way.
Until my fucking piece of shit dad took control of my life and ripped everything I loved away from me.
A sign I don’t recognize on a familiar building catches my attention as I approach, but when I read the words, something twists in my chest. “Hart’s Flowers”. How did Sophie get her parents to replace the sign? The thing was falling apart back when we were in middle school, but Danna and Paul just kept repainting it and nailing it back up.
The new sign is one of those backlit ones, and the storefront has a little light purple awning that massively increases the curb appeal. I don’t have time to read the words painted on the windows before completely passing the shop, and I fight the urge to turn back and see if all the changes are Sophie’s doing.
What if she’s in there? My stomach flips with a surprising amount of excitement. I could turn this car around, park in front of the store, and see her face again?—
No. I shake my head as if that might dislodge my ridiculous thoughts and run a hand through my hair. I meet my eyes in the rearview mirror and give myself a stern look.
It’s been nine years. Sophie is no longer interested and has moved on with her life. She might have hated me for it, but what I did back then, how I had to leave her? That was the right choice—my dad didn’t give me any other option. Once he made threats against Mom, against Sophie…
Besides, I’m not here for Sophie. Tom’s been keeping me updated on the status of the rec center and all the repairs it needs, and I’ll be damned if I let the town replace the place that means so much to me with a strip mall.
An obnoxious ringing fills my car, dragging me away from the past. I answer my phone by pressing the button on my steering wheel. “This is Williams.”
“Williams! My man! It’s Lenny.” The irritating, trying-too-hard-to-be-charismatic voice reverberates through my speakers. Fuck, I should have looked at who was calling before answering the damn phone.
Lenny, the team manager for the Vancouver Vultures. No doubt to talk about the contract they’re trying to offer me. I played the last seven seasons with them, ever since I was drafted, and he’s been trying to renew my contract. For the third time this week. “Lenny. Come on, I told you?—”
“Yeah, yeah, that you don’t know, that you want to consider other offers, and you need some time to think. There must be some fine pieces of ass in that middle of nowhere town you’re from if you’re willing to leave the big city.”
A sensation of fierce protectiveness rises in my chest at his words. He knows nothing about this town or what it means to me. Fuck this guy.
“Fuck off, Lenny. Send the proposal over and I’ll take a look. But stop calling me.”
“Sure, sure.” He brushes off my harsh words. He’s used to it, working with hockey players. “But I need that answer soon, Williams.”
Hanging up without acknowledging that, I pull into the driveway at my mom’s house, parking and running my hands over my face. The house looks just like I remember. Two-story colonial houses are not rare in our neighborhood, but the stacked front porches and large white pillars in the front make it obvious how much Dad was obsessed with appearing better off than others. I’ve always loved the blue paint though.
As for landscaping, there’s not a leaf or blade of grass out of place. I’ve been sending her money since I was drafted, to keep the house in order and pay her bills, since Dad essentially abandoned all sense of responsibility at that point.
Staying with my mom had seemed like a no-brainer, but now I’m second guessing myself. I haven’t seen her since I left town, Dad made sure of that. He didn’t allow her to come to any of my games over the last seven years, spinning some story to the media about how she has anxiety in large crowds and “prefers to cheer her son on from the flatscreen at home.”
Even though we’ve talked on the phone plenty, it’s so easy to pretend everything is alright when you can’t see the other person’s face. As I pull my bags out of my trunk, I resolve to make sure she knows Dad isn’t a threat anymore.
It feels strange knocking on my front door, and when Mom answers, she looks more run-down than the last time I saw her. She’s still in her robe and slippers despite it being afternoon, her blue eyes glassy and her black hair spilling onto her shoulders and streaked with considerably more gray.
Back when I was young and na?ve enough to look up to Dad, I wished I resembled him more. Now, I count myself lucky that I favor Mom’s side of the family. Having gotten her blue eyes and black hair, I’ve been told how much I look like my grandpa, who passed away when I was a baby.
Guilt eats at me for leaving Mom alone like this, but it could have been so much worse if Dad had been here instead of with me.
“Oh, Carter!” Her eyes light up and she hugs me around my waist. With me at 6’3, her head only comes up to my shoulder. My bags drop to the floor when I wrap my arms around her back.
“Hi, Mom.” A heavy sigh escapes me as I rest my chin atop her head. I don’t think I realized just how worried I had been that she would be upset or angry with me for staying away.
Because it doesn’t really matter that I stayed away for her own good. Keeping my dad happy by becoming his ATM machine and drafting to a team on the other side of the country had kept my mom physically safe from him, but it had clearly done a number on her mental state. I still can’t shake the guilt, even though I know if I had tried to go against him, he would have just come home and made Mom’s life a living hell.
She backs away, peering around me with wide eyes. “You’re sure it’s okay that you’re here?”
“I told you, Mom,” I grab her gently by the arms and look into her eyes, “Dad is gone. I haven’t heard from him in over a year. Whatever he got mixed up in, it looks like maybe it caught up to him. He can’t control us anymore.” She nods tightly, and I let go, following her with my bags as she steps into the house.
“When’s the last time you went outside?” I keep my tone as light as possible as I take my shoes off by the front door, then walk through the entryway behind her. I’m convinced that Dad is gone, that his shitty lifestyle of gambling and worse, and his even shittier “associates” have finally been the end of him.
Even knowing that, simply walking into my childhood home gave him more power over me than I thought possible.
My stomach clenches involuntarily as my eyes dart around the front entryway. Literally nothing has changed. I might as well be seventeen again, Dad screaming at me over a shot I missed during hockey practice.
“I went outside a couple of days ago.” She waves me off, turning to face me in front of the bottom of the stairs. “I had to go to the grocery store and Bertha was at a doctor’s appointment. So I figured a little grocery shopping never hurt anyone.”
“Good.” I force a smile, trying to push the memories of my dad out of my mind. Mom has become more… hesitant to leave the shelter of home. Bertha, the woman I hired to help Mom out around the house and keep her company, has been a huge help for her mental health, but now I’m worried that she’s too comfortable staying inside all day. “Now that Dad is gone, you should get out more, Mom. Join a book club… or just meet one of your friends for coffee. I don’t like the idea of you cooped up in this house all day.”
“I’m fine, my sweet boy.” Mom smiles sadly at me and reaches to squeeze my arm. “I’m just glad you’re back. Are you okay with staying in your old room?”
“More than okay. I’m glad to be back.” After I press a kiss to her head, I head upstairs with my bags to get settled. Halfway up, I pause. “Mom?”
“Hm?” She looks up at me absentmindedly from the spot on her sleeve that she apparently found very interesting.
“You know… you don’t have to stay here. I can buy you another house. One that he hasn’t tainted with?—”
“No.” She shakes her head. “Thank you, but no. I’m enough of a burden on you already, between you paying the bills and taking care of our home. You don’t need to buy me a house.”
Nodding lamely, I say, “You’re not a burden, Mom. But I get it. Just let me know if you change your mind.”
“I know, sweet boy. Thank you for looking out for me.” She turns and walks towards the kitchen, leaving me to climb up the rest of the stairs.
My feet sink into the plush carpet of the hallway, muffling the sound of my steps. My heart quickens like Dad is going to come around the corner and berate me for something trivial like forgetting to turn a light off.
My door, the last one on the left of the hallway, creaks open as I turn the handle. Not one thing has changed. It’s like nobody has taken a single step into my room the last nine years. Well, except to clean, I think as I note the lack of dust on the surface of my furniture.
The queen sized bed in the corner still has my navy blue comforter folded nice and tight around the mattress. The pillows look as though they were fluffed this morning. My gray walls are still covered with as many hockey posters as I could fit, and the shelves on my walls are lined with every hockey trophy and medal I’ve ever gotten. There’s a new one at the end though…
Upon closer inspection, I see that it’s the trophy for the championship we won the day before Dad dragged me to Notre Dame. They must have brought it to me after I left. Closing my eyes, flashes from the game that day invade my mind, and all I can remember is the way Sophie felt in my arms when she ran up to me for a kiss after I shot the winning goal. The way we danced at the after party before she brought me back to her empty house.
My eyes snap open, and now all I can see is Sophie.
In the corner, helping me hold a poster in place so I could hang it straight.
Laying on my bed on her stomach, feet kicking and an open textbook in front of her while she helps me study for a biology test.
Her rubbing comforting circles on my back after she overheard my dad berating me for my performance after a game.
Our first kiss, in this very room after I confessed how I felt about her when we were fifteen years old.
Staying in this room is going to be torture. There has to be something that doesn’t remind me of her.
Flopping on the bed, I groan, looking at the ceiling. The poster right above my bed is an image of a full moon in the night sky. Sophie helped me pick it out. After we got it up, we spent the afternoon making out in my bed.
A grunt of frustration leaves me when I feel my cock pulse in my jeans at the memory. It must be some Pavlovian response to the bed or something because there’s no fucking way that I just got hard as a rock from a memory of kissing.
Needing to focus my mind on absolutely anything else, I hop off the bed and move to unpack my bags. I promised Tom I’d swing by the rec center later before the council meeting, but I can be a bit early. Before I can dwell anymore on the past or how Sophie used to feel in my arms, I shoot him a text to let him know I’ll be there early, and give Mom a kiss goodbye on the cheek.
It’s not until I pull up to the rec center that I realize this place might hold just as many memories as my bedroom.