29. Saint
Saint
A nother ten million down the fucking drain.
Half to Luke and half to his girlfriend.
At this rate, I doubt there’ll be any money left in my savings account by the time I reach twenty-one.
Almost everything that happened after I lit that motherfucker up is a blur, and the things that aren’t come back in bits and pieces.
The smell of burnt flesh. Flames dancing.
Levi tackling me to the ground.
Gunner using a bucket of ice water to put his cousin out of his misery.
These memories run on repeat since I, once again, have been trying to adjust to my new, and stronger, medications.
Some would consider my actions of nearly burning someone to death a come to Jesus moment, since it was me who called Dr. Morris and told him I was feeling the effects of cold-turkeying all my meds. Of course leaving out the drugs, booze, and violence I had covered up with money and threats.
Took me a lot of self-loathing, distance, even caving to a few sessions with the doc to start shedding some of the guilt of what I’ve done.
And I’m not referring to that piece of shit Luke.
Hendrix has been at the forefront of every thought, specifically how dangerous it was to be close to her while I wasn’t in my right mind.
Didn’t make it any fucking easier to stay away.
Talk about torture.
Watching her mask the pain I caused her.
Put up with my sister’s wrath. That bitch Annalie’s too.
Who I would’ve stuffed in a trash can and tossed into the Hudson if she wasn’t proving useful in keeping Theory far from Hendrix.
Allowing me to focus on her without any distractions.
From the shadows I followed. Watched. Hid. Made sure she wasn’t aware of the monsters we’re all managing to keep at bay.
Including the asshole Carlo, who’s been growing on Hendrix a lot more now that I’m not around. Enough to pull smiles out of her. Laughs. Even selfies with her phone on occasion. Affections that, if I didn’t know what I know now, I would probably slice and dice the motherfucker for.
It’s been over a year since this spitfire of a girl walked into my life and flipped that shit upside down and sideways.
From Hendrix as a stranger to my obsession.
Obsession to my enemy.
Enemy to my…
I shake the thought out of my head.
This…feeling…is the first come to Jesus moment I’ve been trying to deny since I lost her, and all that’s left to show for it is my determination to keep her safe regardless if she hates me.
“Earth to Lavell!” Coach Balkan shouts from the sidelines. “What are you waiting for?”
Fuck.
I look down at the football clutched in my hand, then at my teammates yards in front of me still in position.
“We may have gotten through homecoming, but that doesn’t mean you start slacking! Got it?”
Spitting out my mouth piece, I yell back, “Yeah, I fucking got it!”
“Good! Now take your head out of your ass and back into practice.”
Against every impulse to smash the football into his face, I nod, shoving the mouthpiece over my teeth and returning to our shotgun formation. Only to fuck up the entire play when I throw the ball into the bleachers.
“Who the hell are you aiming at?” Balkan groans with his arms spread wide. “Casper the Friendly Ghost?”
With how fucked up my head’s been, I wouldn’t be surprised.
Bouncing on my feet, I look up at the sky and let out a harsh breath in an attempt to get my shit together.
Stop fucking around, Saint. You drew up this play.
“One more time!” Coach demands, and the team gets into position.
Then, when the ball is snapped to me again, I launch it clean into the defense’s hand.
“What in the everloving hell!” Balkan kicks an empty bucket. “Saint, get your sorry ass over here.”
With an unhinged growl I yank the helmet off my head, slamming it onto the turf and spitting out my mouthpiece, cursing myself for how fucking off I’ve been on my game lately.
Not once in the three years I’ve been on the team have I ever been this sloppy. Disconnected. A straight embarrassment for a guy who’s had NFL scouts talking since junior year.
“What the hell is going on in your head, kid?” Coach shoves me the second I reach him. “That was a rookie mistake. You’re QB 1 so fucking act like it.”
“I’ll turn it around, Coach.”
“Yeah, well you better. Because your head hasn’t been in the game since homecoming. You’re distracted…everyone can see it.”
I twist my neck to find the guys standing around awkwardly, looking everywhere but at me.
Except for Levi, who’s watching intently with his helmet resting half on his head, probably waiting to see if I’ll be decking this motherfucker or agreeing with him.
I’m a cocky asshole, yeah. But I’m not blinded enough by it to not see I’m letting down my team. Therefore, the only one of us who deserves my wrath is me.
I face him with a raised chin. “I said I’ll turn it around.”
He holds up a pointer. “One more shot, Lavell…that’s it. Because I don’t care about your nasty temper, or that your ancestors staked a flag in this school, I will have you riding the bench for the rest of the season.”
The muscles in my jaw strain as I nod.
“Good. Now get the hell out of here. Take a cold shower or some shit.”
Kicking the same bucket he did, I storm off to the tunnel, knowing I’ll end up doing something stupid like breaking his nose if I don’t get the fuck out of here.
“Hey, you,” a feminine voice calls out to me the second I enter, and when I stop to look, I find Bex, Crayton’s girlfriend, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.
“So, she lives,” I joke, making my way over as she pushes off the wall to hug me.
“She does.”
“Been missin’ you around here.”
Throughout the past year of Bex and Cray getting together, she and I have also grown pretty tight. In fact, she’s probably the only girl besides Theory and Hendrix I’d fight till the death for. At first it was out of respect for my boy, but now she’s become like a sister to me.
“I miss you too, and I hope you’re not salty with me for leaving school.”
“C’mon, now. Would I have helped convince Beaumont if I was?”
By help, I mean demand he allow her to finish the year remotely, because this girl’s been through enough drama here to last a fucking lifetime.
“Yeah, I know. Just hadda say it.”
“All good, baby.” I bump my chin, signaling for her to walk with me to the locker room. “How’s our boy doing?”
“Crayton’s good. He’s been asking about you, though.”
Yet another thing I’ve been too distracted to keep up with.
Going to visit my boy at his new stomping grounds.
“Fuck, I know, man. Shit’s just been crazy here.”
Bex sighs. “I can see that.”
“I take it you’re the one salty with me, huh?”
“I love you, Saint. You know that. But I can’t lie and say I’m not disappointed.”
Reaching for the door to the locker room, I hold it open for her to enter. Bex is hesitant until I remind her the team is still on the field.
We’re headed down the middle of it when I announce, “What can I say? I’m an asshole.”
“Oh, cut the shit. We both know that’s not true.” Bex pauses. “Well, it is true. But not to those you care about.”
“I don’t care about Hendrix. Girl’s nothing more than a thorn in my fucking side put there by my father.”
Bex yanks my arm until I stop. “First of all, don’t talk that way about her. Second of all, you’re a liar.”
I suck in a deep breath. “There’s shit going on in my family I need to sort out, can’t have any distractions. And that spitfire you call a best friend? She’s nothing but a distraction.”
“Yeah, I know, I heard. But Hendrix is part of your family, now, Saint. Regardless if you two are together or not.”
Whatever pathetic amount of self-hatred I’ve overcome the past weeks not only returns with a vengeance, but multiplies when I sputter, “She will never be part of my family.”
“And you made damn sure Theory sees it the same way.”
“Yes I fucking did.”
Because I had to.
Sadness trickles down Bex’s face, resulting in a shake of her head.
“You’re just as stubborn as your best friend.”
“And you’re starting to be just as irritating as yours.”
The way I’m treating Bex is the exact way someone would treat her right before I introduce Halo to their face.
I don’t want to, but she’s pushing me. Hard and far.
To a place where I’d give up a fucking lung to admit why I did what I did to my little Jimi Hendrix. But I can’t, not yet. Maybe not ever.
“Wow.” Bex huffs. “Alright…I see how it is.”
“You made a mistake coming here.” I spin around and take off, not shocked at all when Bex doesn’t follow.
What I am shocked at, though, is what she says next.
“I wanna tell her what happened.”
I come to an abrupt halt, not needing further explanation on what she’s referring to when I turn to face her. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”
“Maybe. But you two got pretty serious, she needs to know.”
Fear. Rage. Both explode inside me like two blocks of dynamite. Ringing my ears and burning my skin as I stomp over to her.
“Do not fucking tell Hendrix, Rebecca.”
The use of her full name has Bex’s painful stare turn to a glower.
“Why? Why shouldn’t I? What do you care if you want nothing to do with her?”
It’s becoming real clear that this girl didn’t only come over for a visit. She’s testing me, trying to gauge a reaction. To reassure herself there’s some type of nobility in my intentions for Hendrix.
She’s wrong.
Lying to the only girl I ever cared enough about to let in may have been necessary but not fucking noble.
“Because she’ll go off the rails. My father doesn’t need that shit right now.”
I don’t need that shit right now.
Bex folds her arms. “Hendrix is my best friend, Saint. I should’ve told her a long time ago.”
“Exactly. A long time ago. What good will it do her now?”
She looks down at the floor. “It’s just…now that I know about you two…I feel like a shit friend.”
“So you want her to hate you too? Feel betrayed even more?”
“Once again…sounding a lot like you care.”
“Just lookin’ out for you, my queen .”
“Right.”
Consider my nerves officially grated into shavings.