Chapter 5
After successfully navigating a full day of drama, gossip, and overthinking, I’d been in a better mood than last night until I was reminded of detention. Not only was it another hour sitting next to Jack, but facing him.
Mr. Hitchcock, our AP English teacher, made us read to each other from the novel Jane Eyre for the entire fucking hour.
We took turns.
While staring at each other.
What sort of fucked-up shit were they teaching these people about how to conduct detention?
Jesus Christ.
I’d never had to look at Jack for so long.
And to make it worse, I noticed things I’d never cared to before.
Like the one freckle on his left cheek that was a shade darker than the rest. How one side of his mouth quirked higher when he said certain words.
How long his fingers were or how often he flicked his head to one side to adjust his bangs before he combed through them with said long fingers.
What was this punishment doing to me?
Needless to say, when we were dismissed, I rushed for the football field, hoping I’d catch the tail end of practice for a shot of testosterone in my veins, for the smell of sweat, grass, and wild onions to clear my lungs of Jack’s cologne.
Cara was with the JV cheer squad at one side of the field, while the players were in the final minutes of drills, when I made my way to the fence at the sidelines.
“Winters.” Michael nodded, then glanced over my shoulder where his stepbrother, Jamie, sat on the bleachers with Asher. “You missing the game too?” Michael asked.
“Nope, only practices.” By now, a few other teammates had turned. “Next week’ll be back to normal,” I added more for myself.
Michael snorted. “Dumbass.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Give him a break, Anderson,” Nick, the other captain with me, said to Michael. “Taking one for the team.” Nick pounded his fist on his chest, then air-kissed in my direction. “Respect.”
I huffed a bitter laugh. “Not quite like that,” I said. “But you can make it up to me by getting the guys to stop all this back-and-forth shit with the soccer team.”
Coach blew his whistle, and everyone turned to see who needed to be where. The special teams were called onto the field, and Nick and Michael relaxed.
“What’s the deal between you and Rutledge?” Michael asked.
“Fuck if I know, man. Wronged him in another life, maybe?”
Nick laughed. “Not you. No way Cal Winters was anything but nice in any life.”
“Jack doesn’t believe that,” I rumbled.
“Asher,” Nick yelled and twirled his sweat-soaked towel over his head. “Get me another, will ya?”
“I’m not your fuckin’ towel boy,” Asher yelled back.
Michael and I chuckled.
Nick rolled his eyes and wiped at his face with the saturated cloth. “I don’t get it. Jamie does everything for you, bruh. I can’t get my cousin to do shit for me.”
“Guess you’re not his alpha,” Michael said.
“Oh, and you’re Jamie’s?”
“Somethin’ like that.”
“Both of y’all are doing it wrong,” I said and glanced at the cheerleaders. There was no denying Cara and I were related. She looked like a little female version of me with her nearly white-blond hair, blue eyes, and tan skin. “I ain’t gotta be shit, and my little sister is still sweet to me.”
Nick snorted.
“Yeah, and you’re gonna hate it when she starts datin’,” Michael joked.
“I’ll be in college. Daddy can deal with it.” Even as I said it, I didn’t mean it. I’d never stop worrying about Cara, and Daddy would never start. They didn’t need to know that, though.
When all this divorce business began, Cara and I had been so embarrassed at how ugly Momma and Daddy could be, we’d agreed to never say much on the matter to anyone outside of each other.
She came to me sometimes, needing help understanding what was going on.
And that was fine. I was her big brother, but I couldn’t really go to my thirteen-year-old sister in the same way.
“Fuck. Girlfriend, seven o’clock.” Nick grabbed Michael’s shoulder and turned them both as Sasha bounced closer.
“Hey, babe,” she said as she stretched onto her tiptoes, so I leaned low to kiss her. “You promised to call me last night.” She pouted.
“Right, sorry.” But I wasn’t sorry at all. I just didn’t want to deal with her, and I didn’t know how to tell her that without hurting her feelings or getting her pissed. For being a tiny thing, she had a mean streak twice her size.
“Yeah. Daddy made me hand over my phone as part of my punishment,” I lied and hoped she didn’t call me out on that very device being in my pocket right at this moment.
If she believed the excellent reason made on the fly, I’d have almost a week without her incessant hounding.
That’d almost make getting in trouble worth it.
“Oh.” She grinned and swished right and left. “Guess I’ll have to text Cara if I wanna talk to you.”
Fuck me. “Nah, babe. Don’t get my sister involved. It’s supposed to be a punishment. Daddy’ll get pissed.”
She ran her lip out. “Baaabe. What about when I need you? Yesterday, Carrie Anne started talkin’ about my split ends to all the girls, which was a bald-faced lie.
” She pulled her long hair over her shoulder and stroked it.
“I make Momma check my hair every week. Can you believe Carrie Anne said that?”
No. What I couldn’t believe was this conversation.
“I can, uh, talk to her for you, if you want.” No matter how ridiculous. “She shouldn’t be spreading rumors.”
“Awwww. Baaaaabe.” Why did it sound more and more like a whine when she dragged that word out? “I took care of it. You don’t have to step in for me.” She batted her eyelashes. “What will I do without you while you’re grounded?”
“I dunno. What did you do before me?”
Sasha snaked her arms around my waist and leaned in. Her petite body rubbed over my not-at-all-eager but unable-to-deny-the-friction cock.
“Won’t you miss me?”
Yes. The correct answer was yes, and yet I couldn’t say it.
I’d lied to her plenty, but it got harder and harder to do.
Not because of guilt but because of the hassle.
Everything was a fucking hassle lately. School, college prep, putting up with Daddy and Momma, then putting up with them together, all this shit with Jack, and now Sasha hanging on like a fucking yoke was getting to me more than usual.
Sasha paused her movements as my delay in answering got to that awkward point. She worked her jaw, lowered her brows, and was seconds from going off if I didn’t think of something quickly.
But thank fuck for small miracles. Before I could muddle through some sort of answer, Cara came bounding over.
“Cal? You ready?” she asked as she approached.
I disengaged from Sasha, which took extra seconds because she literally would not let go at first. “I gotta go, Sasha. I’m only supposed to hang around long enough to get Cara, then Daddy wants me home.”
Sasha stamped her foot. “Cal, I was talkin’ to you.”
I backed up in Cara’s direction. “Yeah, but I gotta go.”
She didn’t say anything else, but man did she want to. Sasha’s eyes lit like fire before she flipped her long hair behind her shoulder and stalked off, glancing at me every other step with a dressing-down glare each time.
I slung my arm over Cara’s shoulder. “Thank you,” I mouthed while she laughed.
“You looked like you could use a save,” she said. My little sister was way more mature than I had been at her age. Maybe it was from dealing with our parents fighting all the time, but it didn’t surprise me she was as attuned to body language as she was.
“I did, and you did.”
“Just break up with her.”
“Think I should?” I asked and let go of her shoulders.
“Think you shouldn’t?”
“I dunno. I mean, I’m captain of the football team, and she’s the preacher’s daughter. Isn’t that a thing?”
“No, because you’re not a douchebag like that.”
I gasped and feigned a high-pitched tone. “Watch your mouth, little girl.”
Cara pinched my side and darted toward my truck when I tried to do the same.
“Ow,” I hissed. “I take it back. You’re not a girl, you’re a little shit.”
“Learned from the best,” she tossed over her shoulder.
Once we were home, I hurried through the homework I didn’t get to do in detention because of the weird-as-fuck Mr. Hitchcock. I’d given him the benefit of the doubt before, seeing as he looked nothing like the man who’d made all those strange shows, but no longer. What an oddball.
Daddy made it home in time for dinner, because this day wouldn’t give me a break, and I threw together a chicken pot pie.
We got situated around the table, Daddy being grumpy and quiet, but my hope for getting through the meal without an argument was short-lived.
“It’s not his fault, Daddy,” Cara defended me after he took a breath from telling me how fucking up in high school could look bad on college applications.
“I’m aware of the situation,” he said. “Calvin doesn’t need you speaking up for him.”
I wanted to respond saying that at least someone had my back but instead went with, “It’s not that deep.”
Daddy put his fork down, took a long drink from his sweet tea, then clasped his hands over his bowl. “Are you sure about that? You’ve been caught fighting and identified as some kind of mastermind behind these pranks. What next? I’m almost afraid to ask.”
“It’s that stupid soccer guy,” Cara tried again, and this time, I wished she hadn’t.
There were things I couldn’t explain to myself or anyone, and this was a huge one. Yeah, I hated Jack, probably, but I didn’t want anyone else talking about him. Well, talking about our feud. I couldn’t explain why we went at it so fiercely, so I didn’t want to get into it.
“I got this,” I said to her.
“What about the soccer guy?” Daddy asked. “The one in trouble with you?”
“It’s nothin’, okay? I’m attending detention and grounded. I’m taking the punishment for the trouble I caused. Can we drop it?”
“Don’t start avoiding your problems like your—” Daddy stopped himself, but we heard what he didn’t say. Like Momma. Sometimes, and only sometimes, they managed to stop themselves from bad-mouthing each other. At this point, why bother?
But his words got me thinking.
Was I avoiding shit? Hell, I was for sure avoiding a lot about Sasha, but was this fight between Jack and me some unfinished business that needed hammering out? Or was it all hopeless like the relationship between my parents?
Cara helped with cleaning the table and putting away leftovers while Daddy quietly dismissed himself to his office. Then, with nothing left to do, I sat in the shadowed living room, slumping into the overstuffed sofa, and tried to arrange my thoughts enough to figure them out.
Why couldn’t I end things with Sasha? She deserved someone who wanted to be at her side.
Sasha shouldn’t have to put up with my indifference half the time and my distraction the other half.
Was I more like Daddy than I wanted to admit?
Coasting with my head in the sand until she broke up with me or cheated?
Dreading to face that potential fact, I changed gears.
What exactly did I hate about Jack Rutledge?
Jack wasn’t really a dick to anyone but me. In fact, he hardly talked at all. He sat all broody in class or when I saw him in the hall. Everyone gave him space as if he might bite their heads off if they didn’t, but I’d never seen him actually snap at our classmates.
The tips of his brown bangs skimmed his lashes while he kept his head lowered, avoiding eye contact with anyone but Ty. So often, I thought about brushing his hair back, just to see his full face. Even with his pale skin, he was dark. An aura I kinda liked. Sort of mysterious, I supposed.
And why the fuck was I thinking all this shit when I was supposed to figure out my hate? The fact remained, when Jack opened his mouth, guaranteed, I wouldn’t like what came out of it.