Secret Catch (18 page)

“He’s… he’s a Trojan,” Brad says on alcohol laden breath. It comes out in a desperate whisper, just loud enough for me to hear. “He’s using you.”

“Ugh!” It’s a muffled scream from Tyler’s direction, and I can hear him fighting, trying to break free.

Brad looks toward Tyler and the defensive ends. “Really, Trojan? You think you can take all of us.”

I nearly stumble to the ground as he pushes me toward Jeff who grabs a hold of me and doesn’t let me go. Then he stalks over to Tyler with a malicious look on his face, something I have never seen before on him, but many times on his father. He pulls his arm back and hits Tyler in the jaw; a loud
crack
echoes through the quiet and makes my stomach lurch.

Tyler’s head jerks backward, and I scream, “
Brad, stop!
”

“That was for the game asshole.” Brad spits to the side and just stares at him for a minute.

Then he pulls his fist back and punches Tyler in the gut. “And that’s for my cousin. You don’t get to touch her. To look at her. She’s a Skyhawk… one of
us
.”

“Brad,” I choke out, but he ignores me as he lays another fist into Tyler’s stomach.

Tyler bends over, held up by the two guys on either side of him.

“No. Please.” I cry, tears tracking down my face. I struggle in the quarterback’s arms, kicking my legs backward, desperate to get to Tyler and protect him. Brad turns and looks at me, a sinister sort of smile crossing his lips, and he turns back to Tyler.

“Stick to your own kind, asshole.”

Brad starts hitting Tyler repeatedly, the two defensive ends holding him upright while Brad takes his cheap shots. Hitting over and over in the face and abdomen. What can I do? How can I stop this? I have never in my life wanted to seriously injure Brad. He gets that at home, and I provide the safety net. But as I struggle in Jeff’s arms, I want to hit Brad. I want to paralyze him, gut him, tear him apart like he’s tearing me right now. And I realize as I don’t wriggle from Jeff’s grasp, I’m not as strong as I thought. I’m not strong at all. I’m weak. I’m miniscule. I’m a speck in this world who can’t fix things or make them go away or hide anything or keep secrets or help out. And every blow Brad delivers to Tyler’s gut is a crush to my heart. So hard that I can’t take it anymore.

“Stop!” I scream. “Brad, stop. I’m sorry. I’ll go with you, okay. Just please…you don’t have to do this. I’ll go with you. Just leave him…” I beg and plead, through my sobs.

Jeff’s grip loosens on my arms, and I take advantage, ripping myself away and walking slowly to Brad. I put my hand on his shoulder, hating the touch, hating my weakness, but seeing no other way out of this mess. “Come on. Let’s just go. Leave him. You’re right. He doesn’t matter. He’s just a Trojan.”

My heart breaks with every lie I say, but I don’t know how else to help him. I’m afraid of what Brad will do if I don’t stop him now. His friends don’t seem to be ready to stop him anytime soon.

So, I’ll sacrifice myself, my happiness, my love, so they don’t hurt him anymore.

Brad’s twisted mouth slowly relaxes. His bloodshot eyes blink and blink as he gazes from my eyes to my touch on his shoulder. He blows out a pungent breath, nods, wraps his arms around my wrist, and pulls me away from Tyler.

It takes all the will I have to leave. I can’t hide the hot angry tracks that fall down my face.

“Leave him,” Brad says to the rest of the players. Brett Peterson hesitates for just a moment, but then he catches up to the rest of us.

I risk a look at Tyler as I get in the car. I don’t recognize him. He looks like he got hit by a truck, a crumpled heap on the ground, face swollen, his right eye shut, and a cut running through his lower lip. He meets my gaze and the look of pain in his expression makes me want to sob and run right back to him, to pick him up, to take care of him.

But I can’t.

The only way I can protect him now is to leave him, and with him my heart.

I grab the keys from Brad because I’m not letting him drive, then I plop into my aunt’s car and start the engine.

I don’t look back, I can’t bear to. The scenery passes quickly outside the car, but I don’t see it. I can’t see anything past the vision of him lying there. Somehow I have to get him some help.

There’s a horrible ache in my chest, like someone is crushing my heart. My eyes burn and my fingers itch on the steering wheel. I have a vision of my hand grasping around the cold plastic of the door handle, yanking it, and then forcing the door open. After that, I jump out of the car, rolling on the ground like they do in the movies and run all the way back to him. Once I get to him I’ll cradle him in my arms and never let him go.

I can’t believe I left him.

My phone bites into my hip and I ease it out at the next stop sign. The light of it illuminates the interior of the car.

“What are you doing?” Brad asks, looking over at me.

I want to scream at him that it’s none of his effing business, but instead I say, “I’m just texting Paige.”

Need u 2 go 2 airport NOW, backside on Capitol Rd. Look for T’s truck. He needs help ASAP.

“What for?” Brad glances at me again.

“I was going to meet up with her later. I’m canceling. I just want to go home.” I keep my phone in my hand waiting for her to text back.

I don’t have to wait long.

On my way. What’s going on?

Can’t talk now. Call u later.

I put my foot on the accelerator, turning down the road that leads to my house. As much as I’d like to drop Brad off at his place, I can’t imagine what Uncle Mike would do if he found out Brad found his liquor cabinet. I hate that I’m still protecting him.

“I thought we’d go grab a bite to eat, you know go hang out. Talk about this.”

In what world does he think that I would go get something to eat with him after what he just did?

“Brad, I’m really tired. We’re going home.”

His eyes widen, so I clarify.

“My house.”

He breathes out a sigh, then turns to the window. It’s quiet save for the sound of the radio.

“You’re not going to see him anymore.”

I force myself not to roll my eyes. I can’t believe he’s done this. I’d try to talk some sense into him if I thought it would help, but he’s drunk and angry, so I bite my tongue and pray Paige get to Tyler fast.

I hope he’s not hurt too bad. He could have internal bleeding. Maybe he has some head trauma or a concussion and now he won’t be able to play anymore or worse.

My arm shakes and it spreads to the rest of my body till I look like I’m having a seizure. I gasp for air and can’t get enough, breathing in quick little pants.

I have to get back to him.

I pull the car to the side of the road, then swerve around in the other direction. Without warning, Brad wakes up from his alcoholic daze and grabs the wheel.

“Stop, what the hell!” I scream, slamming on the brakes so we don’t run into a tree.

“Don’t even think about it,” he spits, anger pulsing behind his eyes. “If you think what I did tonight was bad, you just wait. Don’t forget we’re playing them in two weeks. I’d hate for something worse to happen on the field.”

“You wouldn’t.” I glare at him and barely restrain myself punching that sweet spot Dad taught me.

“Don’t think I would? Try me. I didn’t hesitate to break Jacoby’s leg. You think I wouldn’t put him in a body bag for messing with my family? Watch me. There are a lot of accidents that happen on the football field. Broken bones. Broken necks. Concussions so severe people never recover.”

That’s it. I yank the keys from the ignition and toss them out the window. He curses at me, but I don’t care. I pull myself from the car, and start stomping towards my house, hoping he follows and hoping when we get there he passes out so I can lock him inside, and then finally meet up with Paige.

A crushing hand on my wrist yanks me back before I can walk too far.

“Let. Go. Of. Me,” I growl. He does, and for a slight second, I see my cousin again.

“Stay away from him.”

“What’s… what’s happened to you?” I barely whisper. Brad’s eyes gloss again, and he covers his face, breathing hard, and clenching his fists.

“I’m keeping you safe, damn it.” Then he drops his hand, and his drunk wrath comes back with a bite. “You think he likes you for real? No, he just wants a piece of ass and he picked you because he’s getting back at me for the shit we pulled. Grow the hell up, Sammy.”

I smack him clean across the face. My hand stings and the back of my eyes burn. He looks at me like he can’t believe I would do that to him. I can hardly believe it myself, but we don’t say anything, so I turn on my heel and continue my march. He follows a few feet behind, and I refuse to look back at him, to see him rubbing the spot on his cheek. I hear him tripping over slight cracks in the walk, loose gravel, and when I finally hit my front lawn he stumbles into the back of me.

“Sam…” he croaks. “I’m…”

He doesn’t say anything else, tripping up my porch and swaying on his feet. I hoist him inside and put him on the couch. I call my aunt to tell her where he is, and then I call Paige on my way back out the door.

It rings, and rings, and rings.

Then it goes to voicemail. “Paige, please call me as soon as you get this. Have you seen him? Did you get there? Is he okay? How badly is he hurt? Does he need to go to the hospital? Please call me.” My voice breaks, and I can barely get the rest out. “Tell him I’m sorry and I love him.”

The only reason she wouldn’t answer her phone is if she’s busy. I’m sure she’s taking care of him. She probably left her phone in the car.

“Took you longer than I thought,” Jeff says, jolting me from my phone. He’s standing against my car, arms crossed over his chest. “Brad said to make sure you stay put.”

I gaze up and down the street, and it’s not just him. Half the team is parked along the road, and I turn back to Jeff and chuck my jacket at him.

“Screw you.”

As soon as I get back in the house, I shut the door, lock it, and then run for the bathroom. I barely make it to the toilet in time before all the bile that has been threatening to make an appearance does.

When I have everything out of my system, I go to wipe my mouth with my hand, but it’s shaking so bad it takes me multiple attempts to get it across. Trying to get my phone out of my pocket is even harder. It slips out and falls to the floor.

Tears pile behind my eyes, blurring my vision. I’m going to need a hell of a lot more than sixty seconds of weakness today. I drop to my knees searching for my phone, pushing back my tears and my weakness and everything I should do and shouldn’t do. After a couple swipes across the screen, I wipe my sleeve across my face to clear my vision and dial Paige’s number.

Voicemail again.

I take a few deep breaths and splash some cold water on my face. The time on my phone says 10:22. I’ll give her ten more minutes, and then if I don’t hear from her I’m going back.

I start my nightly routine of check-ins to keep myself busy.

Mom’s asleep, curled in a ball on her mattress. No tissues tonight, but her TV is on so I shut that off. Josh is sound asleep in Tyler’s hoodie, and I have to once again stop myself from panicking.

I take my sixty seconds right there in Josh’s doorway, crumbling inside, letting one tear fall. Two tears fall. Countless tears fall. Then my minute is up, and I breathe in deep, blow it out, and bend next to the bed and kiss my little brother on the forehead.

10:26

I check out my window. The team is still lined up on the street, busying themselves by tossing a pigskin. Brett keeps looking up at my house with a thoughtful expression.

I grab the shirt Tyler gave to me to sleep in and breathe in his scent. It makes my stomach do the funny little flip it always does, except for now more bile threatens.

My bed dips under my weight and I stick my face in the shirt.

“Please be okay,” I whisper.

It’s so hard to breathe. Every sharp intake of cold air pierces my lungs like jagged rocks.

“Sam?” I croak, but it hurts too much to say anything else. I don’t know if it’s too dark to see or if my eyes are swollen shut, and I move my hand from my panging stomach, searching for… anything I guess.

Dust and rocks hit the pads of my fingers, and I choke on the pooling blood in my mouth.

My brain’s losing power. I’m not even sure where I am anymore. I can’t see. I can’t breathe. My gut feels like it was hollowed out and then stuffed with shards of glass. I cough again, snort back the blood, and spit, but I don’t know where it lands. I don’t know if it’s on me or I’m in it. I try to call out for Sam again because that is the only thought I can grasp on to. Sam was here, but now… now she’s not?

I think I roll, and it feels like I’m falling. My brain fuzzes around the edges, and I cough out one more mouthful of blood before the lights go out.

***

Something shuffles next to my ear, kicking dirt up near my face. I still can’t see anything.

“Ah shit.”

Another shuffle.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m calling 911.”

The voices float over my head, and I can’t figure out who they belong to, or what they mean. I try to open my eyes, move my arms, something, but none of my limbs want to work.

“We can’t just… take him to the hospital?”

“I’m not moving him. I don’t know what that son of a bitch did, and I don’t want to risk making it worse.”

I force my voice up my throat. “Hunter?”

Hot air hits my face, but my eyes refuse to open. “Tyler, damn it, what happened?”

I don’t answer. It hurts and it takes too much concentration to just breathe.

The second voice floats over my head again. “I…I’ll call 911.”

Footsteps fade away, along with the voice, and I feel something on my shoulder.

“Can you stay awake?”

I don’t even know if I’m awake now. None of my body parts want to work. I can’t even nod at my brother, or tell him I’m gonna be fine or to stop being a damn girl. I can’t joke this away or hide it or… anything. I can’t do
anything
.

“Damn it, Tyler. Don’t you dare wimp out on me. You can deal with this. Just like a tackle from a three-hundred pound linebacker.”

Hunter’s head hits mine, and I hear his harsh breathing, feel it against the cuts on my face, and his voice croaks as he talks to me. I don’t catch a lot, but I feel his panic, and I force myself to stay coherent enough to at least know he’s sitting here in the dirt with me.

It seems like hours there, Hunter talking to me, then he’s… not. Hands are on me, moving me. Everything hurts like hell, and my voice breaks through, saying who the hell knows what. I still can’t see, and that’s freaking me out more than anything else. Someone’s talking to Hunter and the other voice which I now have enough sense to know it’s a girl. And by the way she’s talking, it has to be one of Sam’s friends.

But where is Sam?

Shit…
where is Sam?

“Sam… where’s…” My voice is muffled. What’s on my face? There’s something cold on my arm. Sharp, brief pain in the crook of my elbow. Hunter says something about riding with me, and I try… I
really
try to stay awake, but I get that falling feeling again. I’m tumbling into oblivion. Not even the panic over Sam’s whereabouts can keep me awake through the blackness.

***

In a perfect world, Sam and I would be together without any secrets, without the worry of our friends finding out, or our enemies.

In a perfect world, football would be only about the game. No rivalry outside of the field. Just the ball. The yards. The turf.

In a perfect world, when people fall in love, they do what they do in all those princess movies Parker makes me watch.

They live happily ever after.

I’m in that perfect world for a moment. I know it’s a dream, because it’s too perfect to be real. But it feels good to be there, and it sucks leaving…especially since I wake up to a sharp pain in my stomach and an annoying steady
beep
.

My vision’s blurry, but after a couple blinks things crawl into focus. Mom’s asleep on my left near my elbow, she’s in her robe and slippers, hand loose on top of mine. Dad’s in the corner with Parker on his lap. The feather poking from Parker’s crown is hitting his nose, and he twitches and bats at it in his sleep.

Hunter’s on my right, leaning on the heel of his hand as he nods in and out of sleep. His right knuckles look swollen.

I know my body is in pain, but I can’t grasp on to it long enough to notice it more than a few seconds at a time. The drip of the IV makes me sleepy, and the world feels a bit tilted. My arm twitches, and Hunter shifts, blinking his eyes open and connecting them with mine.

“Tyler?” he croaks.

I swallow hard and push out my voice. “You’re not gonna cry are ya?” I force a smile, but wince at the sharp pain I get in my cheek.

He lets out one small laugh that gets swallowed up by a sigh of relief. “I won’t, but I can’t promise anything from them.” He waves his hand around the room. Parker jerks in her sleep, then falls still. Mom and Dad are out.

“How…?” I ask, then my throat locks up. Hunter reaches for the nurse button, but I find enough strength to stop him.

“You wanna know how you got to the hospital?” he asks, inching away from the remote. “According to your friend Paige, some jackass beat the living shit out of you.”

I shake my head, but it rocks my brain too much so I stop. “I don’t…I don’t have a friend named Paige.”

“Well, that’s who called me. She said she found you by the airport, grabbed your phone, and hit the last call in there. Lucky it was me, huh?”

My lip pulls up, but my cheek hurts like hell when I do that. I wince and try to touch my face.

“Yeah,” Hunter says, nodding at me. “Ten stitches, so don’t touch ‘em.”

I bring my hand back down. “Would it give me more credit if I said he had brass knuckles?”

“Did he?” Hunter’s tone gets serious and he tenses in his seat.

I let out a breath. “No.”

We’re quiet, and the beep from the monitor next to my head pulls me out of any sleep I fall into.

“Dammit, Tyler.” He breaks the silence. “I thought… man, I thought when I saw you…”

“Hunt,” a voice squeaks. Parker slides off Dad’s knees and pads her way to our brother’s lap. “Don’t swear.”

I try not to laugh since it hurts so damn bad, but I can’t help it. Hunter sniffs, pulls Parker close while she reaches for my hand. Her small fingers tuck into mine, and Hunter sniffs again. I told him not to cry, and it looks like he’s trying. I want to tease him about it, but Park’s hand in mine almost makes me lose it, so saying anything would give me away.

Just when I think I’m about to doze back off, a thought slams into my head so hard it jerks me out of the drug haze. My whole body tenses and I try to sit up, but sharp pain shoots through my gut.

“Sam.”

Hunter raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“Sam. Where is she? Is she okay?”

Hunter slowly shakes his head, mouth partly open. “Uh, I don’t know who Sam is.”

I look to Parker, but she’s fallen back asleep on Hunter’s shoulder. “She’s… she was with me when… did he hurt her?” He wouldn’t hurt her, would he? They’re family. But then foggy images of him holding her back, the strain of his muscles, the tightness of her jaw…

I sit up, trying to ignore the pain, desperate to get to a phone, or to the front desk, or anywhere. Somewhere.

My brother pushes me back down, and I know he’s being soft about it, but it hurts like hell.

“No one was with you, besides that Paige girl. And she was fine.”

Paige. Why do I not know who Paige is?

“Is she here? I gotta find Sam.”

“After she talked to the cops I think she went home.”

“Paige? Cops?” What the hell?

“Okay, I’m calling the nurse now. Don’t stop me.”

I don’t. I fall back on the pillow and try to get my brain to function. But it’s on repeat. Sam. Sam. Sam. Sam. Sam.

A weight slams on my chest, pushing tears out of my eyes in painful, sharp, waves. No one knows my girlfriend. No one knows who she is, or where she is, or if she’s okay. And I don’t know her friends, or anyone I can reach to find out anything about her.

The nurse comes in and messes around my body, and I lie there and let her, wishing I could rewind to that moment I told Sam we needed to keep us a secret.

And I’d change it.