PROLOGUE
“Hi, Warren.”
“Hey, Bailey. What can I get you?”
Bailey placed her arms on the high deli counter, leaned in, and tried to give him a good view of her cleavage while she looked in at the meats. She came in often to flirt with him while he worked.
He didn’t have time to flirt, date, or even hang out with his friends. He’d finished practice at four-fifteen, jogged the mile home, showered quickly, then walked the block to his part-time job, getting there right before his shift started at five.
He’d bust his ass while on the clock and not be distracted by anything.
Including the hot cheerleader everyone wanted, and it seemed she only had eyes for him.
“I’ll take a ham and cheese,” Bailey said. “Do you have to work late tonight?”
“Until nine,” he said. The mini mart closed at ten, but he didn’t stay that late; he couldn’t at sixteen years old.
“That’s a bummer,” Bailey said, batting her eyes. It looked more like rapid blinking to him. She should probably work harder at that skill.
He pulled the ham out and started to slice it, then the cheese, and assembled her sub the way he knew she liked it. She’d been a regular since he started working here six months ago.
“Yep,” he said. “It is what it is.”
Warren wasn’t going to cry to anyone about his life. It was pointless, as nothing would change.
When her sub was done, she walked to the large cooler, pulled out a raspberry iced tea, and moved to the checkout counter where he was waiting for her.
“Do you have to work Saturday?” Bailey asked, cocking her hip slightly. “Ava is having a party because her parents are out of town.”
“I do,” he said. “Most of the day.”
He took a double shift because he couldn’t work on Friday nights due to his games this time of year.
“Maybe you can still stop over after,” Bailey said, angling her head and grinning. Her teeth came out to pull her bottom lip in.
“We’ll see,” he said, ringing her up and handing over the change after she’d paid.
“See you around,” Bailey said, giving him a little wave. Her hips were swaying more than normal, but he turned to go back to his job.
The door opened before he made it to the counter to clean up the remains of the sub he’d assembled when he saw the man who walked in.
Fuck. Talk about distractions.
“Warren,” his father said. “Can’t wait to see your game tomorrow. Last Friday was great. It was like looking in the mirror at myself.”
“No,” he said shortly. “Not even close.”
“Well,” his father said, “we did play different positions, but I’d like to think you got your moves from me.”
Slick Showers, nicknamed that due to his smooth slick moves on the field sidestepping tackles, was nothing more than a deadbeat Dad to him.
In Warren’s eyes, the slick stood for slime that slid through your fingers when you tried to pin him down to be a man and support his family.
“As I said,” he said, “not even close.” He looked down to see the amount for the gas pump. “It’s twenty. Do you have money for Mom this week?”
He wasn’t sure the last time his mother said his father paid any support for him and his sisters. Warren contributed more to the household from his part-time job.
His mother refused to take the money, so he used it for food or necessities his sisters might need so that his mother could keep the roof over their heads on her income as an LPN.
