“Did you get along with your uncle?”
“Yeah. He was the total opposite of my dad. He had a lot of guilt over the whole thing, though. My mom was his little sister and he blamed himself for not looking out for her better.”
“It doesn’t sound like your mom let anyone know how bad things were.” There’s no judgment in her tone but the observation chafes anyway.
“She always thought she could ‘fix’ him.”
“Love can solve many things. But both people have to want it to.”
Well put.
“Were you okay? That was an awful lot to handle at thirteen.”
“Okay? No, I was an angry little shithead. My aunt stuck me in therapy to help me deal with everything.”
“She sounds like such a good woman.”
“She was.” My throat works to swallow the lump forming. “She was the best.” I huff out a laugh at a memory that comes back. “Although, she was pretty pissed that I didn’t talk to the therapist for like six months.”
Her face remains a mixture of sad and serious. “I can’t imagine how hard it must’ve been to talk about it. Especially with a stranger.”
“I was a grouchy little asshole. I’d sit there, staring at the wall for the longest time. And he’d just keep on flapping his lips until one day, I couldn’t listen to another word and finally let loose.”
“What about Jiggy? How’d you reunite?”
“That’s a whole other story.”
She watches me with expectation glinting in her eyes. “His parents were a different kind of fucked up.” I pause, considering how much I should share. “They, uh, put him in the hospital. Well, actually, Jiggy put himself in the hospital after one of their harsher punishments. They didn’t believe in doctors and stuff.”
“I sort of figured from some of the things you said…” her voice trails off.
Nah, she has no idea the shit he’s endured but this conversation’s already a bowl full of misery.
“He had the social worker assigned to him call Aunt Em. She took him in. No question. She and my uncle had it out with his parents and they gave up their parental rights.”
“So now they had two hellraisers under their roof?”
I love her for trying to lighten up this nightmare of a talk. “I think we were so grateful for a…home, that neither of us really gave them a hard time.”
She burrows closer, connecting our bodies. Her touch convinces my mind that it’s safe to dive into the past again.
Chapter Eleven
Rooster
Logan, age 16…
The agony of losing my parents permanently altered my soul. With Em and Boone the pain eventually receded to a functional ache. Grief didn’t poke me in the ribs as sharply every morning. Somehow I got up and stumbled forward each day.
Each small decision eventually led me somewhere I never expected to be.
My new school was small. Insular. All the kids had grown up together. Known each other since their Mommy and Me classes.
In high school, I toyed with trying out for the football team again. “Your mom would want you to live your life and be happy,” Em promised me.
Girls had always fascinated me before. After a while, I started to notice them again too.
Ashley and I started out as a typical, shallow high school couple. The football player and the cheerleader. Yawn.
Her last name wasn’t typical. It matched the name of the town I now lived in—her great-great something or other had built it with his bare hands or so everyone said. She was a girl who was used to getting what she wanted.
Sophomore year, she declared I was ‘the hottest guy at school’—which was so ludicrous I’d laughed in her face the first time she said it. But the girl was relentless. Insisted she’d look good on my arm and we’d make the perfect couple.
I didn’t care that she was a rich girl or that her dad was the mayor. Those things weren’t important to me so I didn’t give them a lot of thought.
She was beautiful. Had a killer body. Those were my main interests at the time.
Truthfully, I didn’t have the capacity for more.
Aunt Em couldn’t stand Ashley and that should’ve been a sign to break it off early on. Em could usually find the good in everyone. But again, Ashley’s killer body and pretty smile had me hooked. Not many horny sixteen-year-olds would pass on a girl like her.
This particular night, a big group of us were partying at the lake house Ashley’s parents owned. It was mostly football players, cheerleaders, and others on the fringe of that crowd. Her parents were rarely there but didn’t mind us using the place. They said it was safer than us getting wasted in the woods somewhere and driving home.
I doubt they would’ve felt that way if they’d known we’d started an unofficial boxing club. My teammates, and anyone stupid enough to challenge them, would go one-on-one until someone lost or tapped out.