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It wasn’t like it was unusual for me to not have anyone in the crowd. Sure, Chloe always came to our games, and Ms. Carter if she felt up to it, but I couldn’t remember the last time my old man watched me play. Jessa had dragged him along once or twice in junior high, but we’d gotten into it afterwards.
He never came again, and I never asked.
But Jessa had been there sometimes. And when she wasn’t, she’d still cheered me on, celebrating the wins and commiserating the losses with me.
“You think you’ll get offered a scholarship?” my old man grunted, surprising me.
He’d never paid any interest before.
“Coach said it’s a possibility.”
“Oh, Joe, a scholarship. How wonderful.”
“They pay for your board too?” He sneered.
My stomach sank. Of course it came back to whether they’d give me a place to stay or not. Because come graduation, he wanted me gone.
A ripple of tension went through the air as Jessa looked at me and then to my old man.
“What’s going on?”
So he hadn’t told her then.
Fucking coward.
“Nothing you need to worry about, baby.”
“Nix?” She turned to me.
“Ask him.” I shrugged, moving past her. “I’m going to take a shower.”
“Nix—”
But I was gone. Out of there. So he hadn’t told her, though it wouldn’t change anything. Joe Wilder didn’t listen to anyone, least of all to Jessa. He didn’t listen all the times she’d begged him to stop hitting me, hurting me. And he didn’t listen over the years whenever she’d tried to stand up for me. Fights over school, on the field, around The Row. Growing up, Jessa constantly tried to stand in my corner. But my old man didn’t care. He was never on my side.
Ever.
Sometimes, I thought it was a fucking miracle that we’d gotten here, to this point, without killing each other. But I guess he had some shred of conscience left because he hadn’t turned me out on my ass yet. Then again, I probably had Jessa to thank for that.
I blew through the trailer to my room, slamming the door behind me. Thankfully, I had the benefit of a small private bathroom. Tearing my clothes off, I tramped inside and turned on the shower. Anger vibrated deep inside me and I wanted nothing more than to lash out. To hit something, hurt something. I needed to go to Buster’s. To get in the ring and work off the restless energy zipping around my body like a live wire.
The tepid water sluiced down my body as I dropped my head against the tile. What I really needed was B. I needed to feel her close, her soft skin and mesmerizing green eyes. She grounded me, always had.
But she wasn’t here. She was there. My fist slammed against the tile, the water drowning out the thud. She was there, playing happy family with Michael Rowe.
Thud.
She was one of them now, even if she didn’t want to be.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Pain exploded in my wrist as I roared into the jet stream, my body shuddering with frustration. Anger and helplessness.
This life… this fucking life. It was cruel. Unforgiving and brutal. And I was one of the lucky ones. I had a roof over my head, food on the table, and a stepmom who cared. A few bruises here and there, a black eye or two, was getting off lightly compared to what some kids in The Row went through.
