Soon, it’ll be twenty years since Mason left us, and yet sometimes it feels like just yesterday.
5
Liam
The sound of a beer bottle crashing into the bed of my truck doesn’t have the same effect as it used to. The shattering of glass from the water tower used to be synonymous with football and friends, with bonfires and girlfriends. Now, I sit up here alone. When Harrison and JD lived in Beaumont, they’d come and hang out with me, crack open a few, and we’d chill. We’d come when I knew teenagers wouldn’t be here celebrating on a Friday night after a victory. I know this place holds more in my heart than it does my bandmates, but they were kind enough to indulge in my need to visit it.
The city and I are in a legal battle over this place. About eight months ago, they announced their intent to tear the tower down, clean the field, and construct an office building. I offered to buy it because I know how important this place is to the kids. It’s become a rite of passage for the teens of Beaumont. And this place means something to me. It’s hard to put a price on nostalgia and memories, but I’ve definitely tried. The city has rejected each offer, and they have left me no choice but to attempt to have this place considered a landmark. Not far from where I sit, there’s a bulldozer, waiting for the green light, and across town, there’s a judge who will make his ruling after the first of the year.
Sitting here, on this rickety walkway with my legs hanging off the side, I can’t help but think about the last time I sat up here with Mason. It was a couple of nights before I left for college. I was angry with him. I had my choice of colleges, scholarships from every big school out there, but I chose to go where Mason wanted to play. I wasn’t done being his quarterback and wanted another four years with him. At the last minute, he decided to go to school with Katelyn and Josie, leaving me high and dry. For the first time in my life, I hated my best friend.
Mason found me here, drinking away my pain and anger, having a self-induced pity party. I told him to fuck off and go to hell. Those were the last words I ever said to my best friend, and they still haunt me every day.
The half-empty beer bottle dangles from my fingertips from some twenty feet or so in the air. I’m about to let it drop when headlights shine in my direction. My solo act is over. I stand and gather my things when I hear my name. I strain to see who is coming, it’s just a shadow, but as he gets closer, I groan loudly, hoping he can hear me.
“What do you want, Ashford?” Josie tells me I need to get over my dislike for Nick. She’s right, but it’s not something I can stomach. I loathe this man for no other reason than he made a move on Josie in high school and then took my place in Noah’s life. Granted, I gave up my right to be in Noah’s life when I walked out on Josie, not to mention my former manager Sam had a hand in making sure I’d never know about my son.
Nick doesn’t
answer but instead climbs the ladder and sits down. I can be a total dick and leave, or I can think about Noah, and how he’d feel if he found out I left. Noah always wins. I sit back down but make a huge exaggerated show about it. It’s childish, but I have yet to grow up when it comes to Nick Ashford.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Instead of answering, he pops the tops on two beers and hands one to me. He takes a long pull from the bottle and then clears his throat. “Josie called. She said Mack is welcome to come to Vermont after Christmas.”
“He is,” I tell him, even though it’s against my better judgment. Again, I have to consider Noah, and Mack and Noah are close.
“That’s good. Mack will like that.” Nick clears his throat again.
I know I’m going to regret this later, but I ask, “Is everything okay?”
Nick slowly shakes his head. He takes another drink of his beer and then lets the bottle drop to the bed of my truck. “Aubrey is going to South Africa, and she’s taking Amelia with her.”
“Well, if Mack needs to go with you guys, Noah and Paige will understand.”
My sworn enemy turns and looks at me. It may be dark out, but there is no mistaking turmoil on someone’s face. “I didn’t tell Josie when she called, but uh . . .” He pauses and clears his throat again. “Aubrey is moving.”
“Oh.”
“I haven’t told Noah yet, either. I guess it’s odd that I’m telling you of all people, but . . . yeah. My wife wants to move back to Cape Town. I’ve known this for a while but sort of brushed it under the rug. Mack is excelling in Beaumont and probably has a chance at a scholarship or two. She wants to take it all away, and I can’t have that.” Nick inhales deeply and then sighs. “I never thought I would be in this position to have to choose my child over my wife, but here I am.”
“And Amelia decided to go with Aubrey?”
Nick nods. “A girl needs her mother. Amelia knows she can come back anytime she wants.”
“And Mack? How does he feel?”
“He’s hurt. Sad. Angry with his mother that she won’t reconsider. He doesn’t want to leave Beaumont. I think back to when I tried to do this to Noah, right after you came back, and Josie was adamant they stay. She was right. I want to think I’m making the right decision, putting my son’s future before my happiness . . . before my wife’s.”
I’m quiet for a minute, thinking of how to say what I’m about to, without sounding like a complete ass. “Do you think it’s easier to decide to stay here with Mack because things are over between you and Aubrey?”
“As much as I hate to say it, Liam. I think you’re right. Aubrey hasn’t been happy for a long time, and I’ve ignored it. Hell, we don’t even sleep in the same room. Most nights, I fall asleep on the couch before going to sleep in the den.”
“Is there anything Josie and I can do for you and Mack?” It’s another question I regret but ask because of our family ties.
Nick nods. “I feel like I need to go with Aubrey and make sure Amelia is settled. I don’t want to wonder if where they’re living is safe. Do you think Mack could stay with you while I do this?”
“Yes, of course,” I tell him. Some logistics have to be worked out, like where I’m going to lock Betty Paige away, but that’s just semantics. “When will you leave?”