My mother’s bright blue eyes study me, and I feel like a ten-year-old kid with his paw in the cookie jar instead of a twenty-one-year-old man. “Your father will drive you back to campus when you’re ready. Tell Dad I’ll bring down his lunch in a bit. Careful on those steps.”
“Ten-four.” I wobble over to my crutches and yank them into place, annoyed I can’t drive myself.
Life is not going as planned, starting with the bone-jarring injury I got in November that basically wiped out my dream of getting drafted. But Coach Nicholson is encouraging me to use my last season of eligibility to give it one more try. Since I redshirted freshman year, I can return to Lone Star State and play another season even though I’m ready to graduate at the end of this semester.
Because, let’s face it, I won’t be ready for the combine in March, and if I’m not there to show I’ve recovered and I’m in top shape, I haven’t a shot in hell of getting drafted in May. Not after I missed the last three games on the heels of a lackluster season and so much fucking team drama.
The guys turned it around and ended on a high note, but I didn’t play those games. I’m glad my buddies will have a decent chance of getting drafted, but damn. The thought of going through another year of college football after months of rehab sounds exhausting.
“Hey, Beulah,” I call out as I wobble across the overgrown lawn of my parents’ small farm. My mother’s goat ignores me to chew on someone’s ratty tennis shoe. I knock on the rusty door of my grandfather’s trailer.
“Come in! I hope you brought some food. A man could die back here from starvation.”
I chuckle as I carefully make my way up the stairs. “Gramps, it’s me.”
Rheumy-eyed, he looks me over. “Who’s my favorite grandson?”
“That would be me.” I lean over to hug him, hating how frail he feels. “You taking your medicine?”
“Your mother would have my balls in a sling if I didn’t. Although I don’t know how we’ll afford my insulin any longer. Gonna go bankrupt with those prices.”
“We’ll find a way. ’Cause look on the bright side—it would be worse to die of a diabetic coma.”
He clicks the TV remote with one hand while he gives me the finger with the other. “No one likes a smartass.”
I smile. At least he has some dexterity.
But my good mood evaporates as I take in his trailer. I know my mom and sister come back here to clean and help out, but it hurts to see how threadbare his furniture is getting.
From what my parents have told me, every penny of Grandpa’s retirement fund and a good chunk of my family’s savings is going toward his medication. It’s why I’m sick over not being ready for the draft. Gramps needs that money. He shouldn’t be living in a dilapidated trailer in my parents’ backyard.
My mom plays it off, but I watched her clip coupons for an hour this morning. A dollar just doesn’t stretch as far as it used to.
After living a frugal life, my parents should be going on cruises and kicking back like their church friends, but they’re more stressed out than ever. I’m painfully aware it’s my turn to be the breadwinner instead of needing more money for textbooks.
By the time I get ready to head back to Charming, my sister’s friends have all left. Kayla crushes me in a goodbye hug.
“Did you save the date?” she asks as she leans back.
“Yes, ma’am. Wouldn’t miss your wedding for the world.”
“You didn’t say anything about my invitation. Isn’t it beautiful?” She pulls one from her back pocket and waves it in my face.
“Very nice.”
“You know who designed it, right?”
“I have no idea, but I’m pretty sure you’re gonna tell me.” Ever since Kayla got engaged over the holidays, she’s been obsessed with weddings.
“One of my favorite people,” she singsongs. I wait for her to spill it, although I have no idea why she’s being mysterious. “Magnolia Morales.” I can’t hide my scowl, which makes her huff. “Why are you like this? Maggie is sweet as pie.”
“Maggie’s a brat. Half the time, she pretends like she barely knows me. Get this—she tells people we ‘met in a class,’ like we didn’t grow up together. Do you know what that girl did to my truck in high school?” It pains me to remember.
Kayla cackles at my expression. “Don’t be dramatic. Maggie accidentally left a tuna fish sandwich in your car, and you’ve been butthurt ever since.”
“Accidental, my ass. She pulled that shit in May over a long weekend when it baked in the scorching Texas sun while we were all at the lake. And don’t forget the time our economics teacher thought I was cheating. Maggie had asked me for a pencil. She could’ve spoken up. Defended me. Instead I got a zero on that test.” When my sister doesn’t say anything, I feel the need to underscore the importance of that exam. “It’s the only zero I’ve ever gotten.” Crickets. “It could’ve hurt my G.P.A.”
My sister frowns at me like I’m being a little bitch and pats my chest. “Okay, big guy. Don’t get all huffy-puffy. I don’t know why you two have a beef, but Maggie’s only been a sweetheart to me. She did my invites for free. No one does anything for free these days. I tried to pay her, but she said I was her little sister’s favorite babysitter and will always get her friends-and-family discount.”
