Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Kresslee Burkheart
Ilooked in the mirror in my bathroom at my reflection. I looked tired. And I knew it was because I was. Bone-deep exhausted.
The girls and I worked until late into the night on our new choreography, and I slept horribly.
Katia Johnson, my best friend and the girl who kept me on track during practice, had ridden me hard, keeping me focused. I loved that girl even when I wanted to hit her because my muscles hurt from doing so much.
I got home, threw myself into bed, hoping to sleep. Sleep had come but so had my dreams.
They were always filled with the one man I wasn’t allowed to have, Ridge Benson. I knew he was forbidden, but knowing he was forbidden to me made him that much sexier to me.
He was mine for such a short amount of time that it was heartbreaking.
My twin brother hated Ridge after his team beat ours by three points in the first game they ever played.
I knew one of the biggest reasons Creed got so angry and hateful toward Ridge was that our father wouldn’t allow anything less than perfection.
If Creed wasn’t perfect, then our father beat the shit out of him. He thankfully left me alone.
Every time Creed played against Ridge, no matter if it wasn’t Creed’s fault, his team didn’t play as good as Ridge’s team, but he still got the shit beat out of him.
I hated it. I drove home with Creed and our father, anger radiating off him in waves, until we arrived at the house.
As soon as the door shut, our father was on Creed, shoving him against the wall, breaking the sheetrock as his body was thrown against it. It wasn’t the first wall in our house to be broken, and I doubted it would be the last.
My father’s fists flew. But he made sure not to hit Creed in the face. If Creed had any visible bruises, then people would ask questions.
I learned not to get in the way or try to intervene after getting punched in the face myself.
Creed shook his head at me sharply, taking the rest of the beating with no sounds.
I saw it too many times. Creed took every beating without complaint, and he started to loathe Ridge because with each loss came another beating. Creed thought we were done with those after we got to junior high, and Creed started to get taller and wider than our dad.
But with the losses came our father’s hatred, and so did Creed’s.
Creed hated everything about Ridge. He once told me he was one of the best safeties he had seen.
I was also impressed with him. However, I was more impressed with his muscles and his dark, chocolate colored hair.
He was also tall, a little taller than Creed, though he wasn’t as wide. Creed worked out as often as he could. I knew he wasn’t going to take our father’s beatings much longer.
One day, when I went to school to straighten my clothes and check my bow, I was shocked to see Ridge waiting for me.
I loved how sweet he was. How quiet. I saw him before the game with his father and grandparents. I didn’t know why he didn’t have a mom, but since I didn’t have one either, I liked him that much more.
I wasn’t sure what happened to Ridge’s mom, but I didn’t even know what happened to mine. Not really. I was told when we were younger that she died giving birth to us, but I had a feeling our dad was involved in some way.
He always was. I know we only made it to where we were because of our grandma, but she was getting sicker each year and was slipping away.
I hated seeing her like that. She was the only one who loved us. Who tried to keep us safe from our dad.
If he went out of town for his job, which was often, but not often enough for our liking, she came to stay with us.
She hated that our father did the bare minimum for us, helping us clean the house, buying us groceries, and taking care of Creed and his injuries.
She tried more than once to talk to our dad, but he wouldn’t hear it, and Creed wouldn’t let him touch her. Taking the beating meant for her after she questioned her son about his children.
She was the reason we signed up for our activities. She paid for them, wanting us not to just sit at home with our father. However, he soon expected perfection from both of us.
Creed especially. He once asked our grandma why our father was so different from her.
Why was she so kind and loving, while he treated us as if we were nothing.
She sat us both down, holding us both under each of her arms, her hands stroking over our hair, “My sweet darling babies. Your father only hits because he doesn’t know any other way.
His own father was the same, and though I tried to not let that evil bleed through to my son, it didn’t work.
He is worse than my husband ever had been.
I hate that I couldn’t save him. And I feel as if I’m failing to save either of you. ”
Creed shook his head, “I won’t be like dad. Never.”
Grandma kissed his head, “I know you wouldn’t do that darling. You are too good.”
I loved that day. Grandma Gwen loved us more than words could say. I still went to visit her whenever I could. As did Creed. Though I think he went for her cooking.
He ate a ton still, especially with his workouts and the team using most of his time and energy.
We lived together in a small condo, though Creed could have bought a huge house; he didn’t want that. He saved what he could, never wanting us to be unable to live.
He knew football wouldn’t last forever, and he wanted to be set for life no matter what. For us to be set.
I wanted to live with Creed, that was for sure, but I also wanted the man I was so in love with to be at my side.
Creed thought my crush on Ridge was long over after that fateful day, so long ago, when I ended up in the hospital with a concussion from hitting the wall.
The beating Creed took from our father that night when I wasn’t with him was the worst one, he had endured.
But Creed had fought back that day, too. Our father hadn’t expected that, and after Creed punched him so hard that it knocked out a few teeth, our father left the house and kicked us out soon after.
We lived with Grandma, and our father hadn’t spoken to either of us since.
Creed hated Ridge for pushing us to that point, even though it was infinitely better to live with our grandma than with our father.
But Creed felt as if our family were broken because of it. I never felt that way.
All I wanted was to be whole with the love of my life at my side. After that day, I couldn’t text him because it felt as though I was betraying Creed and what he did for me.
Even though it was his fault I had a concussion, I didn’t blame him. I blamed myself. I blamed the fact that I wanted Ridge so badly that I hadn’t looked around my surroundings before I jumped into his arms and kissed him.
I missed him. I missed him; my entire chest ached with it. I knew he was the other half of my soul, and now that we had been away from our father for a few years, I finally understood what a horrible man he was.
I knew that he wasn’t a good man, a good father, or anything good. I didn’t miss him. I knew Creed didn’t either. He only wanted us to be normal. To have a normal family. A normal life.
But that wasn’t us. It was never going to be us.
No matter how hard we tried. Our lives weren’t normal from the day we were born. I tried to tell Creed that once, but he didn’t want to listen.
And after that, I dropped it. I threw myself into school and cheer, though I wasn’t friends with any of my team.
They were mean, Queen bees who thought they were better than everyone in the school, treating so many people as less than, and I hated it.
I didn’t go to parties with them, I didn’t spend time with them outside of practice, even going so far as to show up with seconds to spare before I was late to practice, and leaving as soon as our Coach let us leave.
I had no friends at school. Neither did Creed. He was quiet, broody, and stuck to himself, and made sure that no one, including any of the boys at school, got close to me.
Not that I wanted any of those boys; my heart was already Ridge’s.
I never brought up Ridge again to Creed.
But now that we were adults, had gone through college, and were in the big leagues together, with me as a cheerleader, and he as their star quarterback, I couldn’t keep silent much longer.
I needed Ridge in my life. I spent too much time being unable to choose what I wanted, but I wouldn’t allow it much longer.
Creed was amazing while he played. So focused and perfect. He stayed up late before the game to prepare.
He was their team captain, and he refused to let anyone down again.
I knew our father wouldn’t get near him again, but he still had that trauma.
I blinked at my reflection in the mirror, hating that I was so trapped in the past.
I wanted to move on and begin the life I dreamed of. But first, I had to talk to my brother.
I couldn’t let him dictate my life to me any longer. I needed to show him that I could make my own choices. He was being too much like our father with this.
Overbearing and mean. Ridge had done nothing wrong to Creed personally.
I let him tell me for too long that I couldn’t choose my own future, and now I was done.
I saw many of the girls on my team finding their happy-ever-after, and I wanted mine. I waited too long for Ridge.
I just hoped that he hadn’t moved on.
I walked out of the bathroom, down to the kitchen, where Creed was already there.
He was shirtless, something I saw too often in our home. He had some tattoos covering him in different places, where he had some of the worst scars from our father.
Creed looked over his shoulder at me, “Hey.”
I smiled at my brother, “Hey.”
He lifted a brow, “You came in late.”
I shook my head, chuckling, “We had to go over the new choreography.”
Creed sighed, “Fine. You know I worry.”
I nodded, “I know. But you know we are adults, right? Katia kicked my butt during practice last night and I didn’t have time to tell you about it before I was asleep.”