Chapter 9 #2
His smile is sad, and I hate that I’ve put it there. “Don’t be. I’ve never really had someone stick up for me before.”
That surprises me but also doesn’t, considering how lonely Colby has felt all this time.
“Really?”
“Well, apart from my parents.” He lets out a quiet laugh.
“There was this one tournament when I was about twelve, and there were a lot of scouts there. And this one guy followed us out to my mom’s car after the game, asking me about all the different scouts and what team do I want to play for, and asking all these obscene questions I didn’t know how to answer because I was twelve.
” He chews on the inside of his lips, his smile growing as he relives the memory.
“My mom spun around and got in his face and told him how inappropriate it was for him to be stalking a child, because it wasn’t the first time he’d followed us after a game. ”
My eyes widen, and laughter bubbles in my throat. “Damn, Momma McKay doesn’t hold back.”
He laughs. “She doesn’t, but she said it loud enough that other people overheard. It helped for a while. They backed off for a couple of months, but as soon as I turned thirteen, it started again, and it’s progressively gotten worse over time.”
I clench my jaw, pressing my finger harder into the seat in front of me. “I don’t understand how they can’t see the damage they’re doing. Like, don’t they realize they’re talking about kids?”
Colby shrugs, shifting his body until he’s angled toward me. “Maybe, or maybe they don’t care. To them, it’s all about getting traffic and generating clicks on their site, and being negative draws people in, no matter who they’re talking about.”
“It’s so fucked-up.”
“It is,” Colby agrees, and then he goes silent again, those hazel eyes assessing me as the rest of our teammates filter onto the bus. “I do appreciate what you did out there, but you don’t need to get yourself into trouble on my behalf.”
I wave him off. “It’s nothing.”
“What did Coach say to you?”
“Basically that I’m lucky he doesn’t kick my ass.”
He snickers. “Well, that’s true.”
Licking over my lips, I try to ignore the butterflies swarming in my stomach and lower my voice so it’s only loud enough for his ears.
“I want you to know that I’ll always have your back, even after everything is done.
” I swallow around the lump that’s forming in my throat.
“I’ll always be a safe space for you to land, Colbs. ”
He dips his gaze to his lap, those long, blond lashes casting a shadow over the tops of his cheeks. When he lifts them back to mine, they’re shining with something I can’t decipher.
He doesn’t say anything, just simply smiles, then sticks out his pinky finger. I eye it for a moment, confused about what he’s doing, and then I move my hand closer and link my finger with his.
Colby gives it a small squeeze before releasing me again, and the smile that curves his lips has my heart thumping in my chest.
A loud cheer breaks our stare, and I poke my head into the walkway to see Liam has finally boarded the bus.
“I have arrived, gents. Thank you for the warm reception,” he snickers, making his way down toward the back of the bus. When he reaches us, a wide grin appears on his face. “A little birdie tells me you were a cape away from becoming a superhero, Becksy.”
I roll my eyes. “It was nothing.”
“Didn’t sound like nothing. Can’t believe you told those reporters to fuck off.”
“I didn’t say that exactly.”
He lets out a pfft sound and gives my shoulder a shove. “Minor details.” He flicks his gaze over to Colby and holds his hand up for a high five. “McKay, superstar as always. You’ve gotta remember us when you head up to the big leagues. Don’t miss me off your holiday card list.”
Shaking his head, Colby laughs and slaps his palm against Liam’s. “You’ll be at the top.”
“Marvelous.” Liam grins, and I give him a push toward the back of the bus.
“Sit down so we can leave already.”
“Alright, I’m going,” he huffs, smacking the brim of my hat so it flies off my head into Colby’s lap.
“Dude is a menace,” I grumble, not thinking twice about picking my hat up out of Colby’s lap and putting it back on.
My seatmate chuckles, and when the lights are dimmed, we settle in for the hour-and-a-half drive back to campus.
I’m dozing when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I shift to shove my hand into my pocket without jostling Colby awake and see my brother’s name on the screen. With everything that has happened tonight, it didn’t even cross my mind that I hadn’t heard anything from my parents.
I lower my brightness on my phone and tap open the text, my chest tightening with every word I read.
Joey
Awesome game, T! Super proud of you. Sorry we won’t be able to come to Florida, but I’ll try and watch on TV!
Try being the key word here, because this is nothing new.
I had to learn from an early age that my parents weren’t like other parents.
Sure, my dad paid all the checks and made sure I had new gear, and my mom got involved with the other moms when there were social events and fundraisers, but I don’t think they ever truly supported me.
Or at least, it didn’t feel that way because I don’t remember a single game after the age of five where either of my parents attended.
And while Joey and I have never been close, it’s only been in the last few years that he’s started to show the slightest bit of interest.
At least he’s showing some support now, so I guess beggars can’t be choosers.