Chapter 10 #2
“My dad lost most, if not all, of his money on gambling, partying, and alcohol. He was up to his neck in debt, so my parents had to sell the house in Montclair to pay off bookies in Atlantic City. I was devastated when they told me they were selling it.
“But apparently, selling our home wasn’t enough to cover the debt.
And let’s just say he didn’t owe money to a few small-time bookies.
He got involved with the wrong people, and when he couldn’t pay them back, he asked for an extension.
They refused, and that’s when the death threats started rolling in.
We had to leave immediately after that.”
Henry looks beyond devastated. I can see how hard it is for him to talk about this, and a part of me wants to tell him to stop, that what he’s shared is enough and that we can revisit this another time.
But I don’t. Because deep down, I know this might be the only window to learn what happened.
Something tells me he won’t want to resurrect this conversation once it’s over.
After remaining silent, he continues.
“My mom told me we had to cut off communication with everyone we knew here. At first, I didn’t understand why. I didn’t know what was happening or how deep we were in this mess. But I found a way to eavesdrop on my parents’ conversations, so eventually I had a general idea of what was going on.
“It wasn’t until I told my mom I wanted to see you before we left that I realized the gravity of the situation.
She told me everything, or as much as she could at the time, and said I couldn’t tell you where we were going or why.
But I knew you’d see through the lie. You knew me too well.
I couldn’t risk it. I couldn’t risk getting you involved.
These people were onto us, trailing our every move. I became paranoid and panicked.”
Henry pauses, rubbing his face with both hands.
“Knowing now how badly I hurt you, I wish I could’ve made anything up. But I was—” He sighs and lets out a grunt, heavy with exasperation. “I was stupid, Bells. I froze up.”
“You were not. I’m so sorry you had to go through this,” I say, and I mean it. “I didn’t know any of it.”
“Thank God for that,” he replies. “But that’s not all of it.
I also caught my dad cheating. One night, he came home late, drunk to the bone.
I couldn’t sleep, and I heard a car pull into the driveway.
When I looked out the window, I saw a woman in a green BMW dropping him off. They made out right outside the house.”
Henry’s teeth press hard into his lower lip, the tension etched across his face.
“I ran downstairs and waited for him to come in, but he’d checked out of reality. I don’t know how he managed to walk into the house. But when he did, I stupidly admitted I’d seen him with a woman. He denied it and threatened me so I wouldn’t spread lies to my mom.”
My face scrunches up. This is so much worse than I thought.
I never imagined Henry was going through all of this at home.
It reminds me of the day I saw Dad carrying Mom to their bedroom.
Her arms hung limp at her sides like a rag doll.
When I asked my dad what was wrong, he said Mom had fallen asleep outside on the terrace.
But I knew that wasn’t the case. I knew she’d been drinking.
Thankfully, I only witnessed that once. I can’t imagine how hard it must’ve been for Henry to see his dad in compromising situations again and again.
“Did he ever hurt you?”
“No. He wouldn’t have been able to,” Henry replies swiftly.
“I could’ve pushed him back with a single finger, and he would’ve fallen on his ass.
But when he was sober, he was … great. Himself.
Once alcohol hit his bloodstream, he transformed beyond recognition.
Seeing this monster, this … demon take my dad’s place whenever he was drunk made it harder to stomach.
“I’d usually help him up the stairs to his room when he came home like that. My mom took sleeping pills, and even though she insisted she had insomnia, I knew it was mostly because she didn’t want to be awake to see him in that state on the nights he went out.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say again, leaning in to reach for his hand.
He gives me a sad smile, his fingers brushing the back of my hand.
“Why Chicago?”
“Well, my mom has a cousin in Chicago. He owns a chain of gyms and offered her an administrative job there. He rented us a small apartment and basically gave us a chance for a fresh start.”
That’s unacceptable. Dora had to sacrifice so much for Mitch.
“What about the bookies trying to get their money back?” I ask, knowing I’m pushing it too far, but it’s now or never.
Henry hesitates for a moment, his jaw tightening, but he gives in when I squeeze his hand.
“My dad sold another property, the only one he had left, and managed to pay them off what he owed before we moved away. But these greedy men demanded he pay interest, claiming he’d taken too long to pay them back.
Once we were gone, they just … forgot about us.
” His gaze shifts away, and before I can press further, he quickly steers the conversation away from the lenders.
“My dad kept promising to be better, and my mom kept believing him, so she worked her ass off for us, but it’s not like she was earning a lot.
And my dad wasn’t even trying to bring any money into the house.
He kept sneaking out to drink on weeknights with the excuse of it being work-related opportunities. ”
I can’t believe Mitch would hurt his family like that.
The things they must’ve gone through. Henry is most likely leaving out a bunch of details from his story.
There must be a lot he’d rather not remember, and the thought of him thinking it was best to keep me out of his life because of this makes me angrier. Not at him but at the situation.
“So what happened to your tennis career when you moved to Chicago?” I ask. “I … sort of kept track of your ranking points when you first left. That’s how I knew you were still playing. But then I stopped. It was giving pathetic stalker vibes.”
I gently release his hand and look away.
“I’ve been keeping track of your every tennis move since I left, and I never stopped.” He concedes with a laugh, but it sounds sad again. “So, who’s the pathetic stalker now?”
I lift my hand, and he high-fives me. “I guess we both are.”
“Guess so.”
“So how did you manage to keep training over there, with money being tight?”
“Well, my dad called in a few favors and got me an agent, who quickly landed me a few sponsorship deals.” He looks at me with a stiff smile.
“Nothing like your sponsors. But it was enough to cover my coach and other basic expenses. I also had a free membership at my uncle’s gym where my mom works, so things kind of fell into place. ”
“The French coach Jasper mentioned earlier?”
“Oh, no. Jacques came along two years ago. He saw me at a Challenger event and offered to train me. Adjusted his fee to whatever we could afford and said he didn’t mind. He believed I could go far. Told me I could pay him back after I won my first major.”
Henry turns his gaze away, out toward the city. He wants to shut me out, but I won’t let him.
“Jasper said you were planning to go on tour this year. What happened?”
“Jasper’s a nosy bastard, that’s what,” he says, tugging my ponytail playfully. “Nothing happened. I just couldn’t afford it.”
“But your agent could’ve lined up more sponsors to help cover the travel costs. I mean, you were going to—”
“Bells, I can’t go over this right now.” His eyes cloud with pain. “Please.”
I know I’m pushing it. He’s already said more than I expected. But I want it all.
“I have money,” I say reactively. “I’ll give you the money. It’s not too late. If you start right now and—”
“Belén,” he says, his voice dark and husky, a clear warning if I ever heard one. “You can’t just throw money at problems to make them disappear.”
“Uh, yes, I can,” I say with a laugh. “In this case, that’s exactly what money would do. Solve the problem. I’m sure my dad would authorize me to get money out of the account for that. For you.”
Henry says nothing. I know he won’t take my money, but why does he have to be so stubborn?
Once I set my eye on something, I know I must get it. And what I want right now is for Henry to play tennis again because I know he wants that too. He freaking lives and breathes tennis. It’s what he lives for. So it’s beyond frustrating that he won’t let me help out. He deserves to play.
I’m about to keep pushing on the matter when my phone starts ringing on the small table between us. It’s Liam, his name staring back at me, mocking me. Henry glances at my screen, and his brow quirks up. “Aren’t you going to take it?”
I’m not sure.
I’m pissed at Liam, and I don’t know how to act or talk to him when I’m this worked up. I know I want to change. Seeing those kids at the tennis courts earlier was a rough wake-up call. If I take that call, it won’t end well. I know myself.
Liam reaching out to me after our last fight is shocking. I believed him when he said he wouldn’t call me again, and I do miss him. A lot. But I’m growing tired of all this back-and-forth. As addictive as it can be, they’re also toxic and constantly draining my energy.
There’s a lot I need to work on. Liam’s the best, and I’m afraid I will fuck things up for good if I don’t get my shit together.
Fast. But I’m not ready to talk to him yet.
I’m too fired up and jealous about those photographs, and because of that, I won’t be able to handle this call.
Talking to Henry left me feeling overly emotional, too.
I let the phone ring until it goes quiet.
“Aren’t we supposed to hit the gym, Coach?” I say with a smile. “You don’t want to see me working out in a bad mood, so if I had taken that call, I would’ve set the gym on fire.”
“Yeah, we don’t want that.” Henry laughs. “I’ll meet you down there in twenty.”
I take a deep breath, and a couple of messages pop up on my screen.
Liam: Question. Why are there photographs of you holding hands with your coach splashed all over the gossip sites?
Liam: Is it him you want?
My mouth twitches with tension, but I don’t reply. Let him suffer for a while. I still can’t get over those photographs of him with that redhead.
If Liam’s jealous of Henry, so be it.
Advantage, Freeman.
1 Oh, my God!
2 Son.
3 Oh, daughter, I see you every day. You’re too “seen”. (Literal translation of a common saying).
4 Direct translation: “You’ll see!”
5 Your food will get cold, daughter.
6 Please sit down to eat.