Page 11

CHAPTER 11

MARCUS, AGE 20

I'm not sure how to feel as I walk my mother down the aisle between rows of lawn chairs, smiling and nodding to our various friends and family members that have joined us. She looks beautiful in a simple off-white sundress with yellow flowers and a serene smile on her face. There are tears in her eyes, but I'm pretty sure they're happy tears. I think she's truly happy, and that's what matters the most.

It's a hard thing to be happy about something and sad about it in the same breath. She should have been, would have been, with my father for the rest of their lives. He’s been gone for almost five years, and now she's marrying Greg in the backyard of their new home, nestled in a little mountain town an hour north of our hometown. It was surreal to clear out the house I grew up in. Mom is going to rent it until I'm old enough to decide if I want to settle in Pinecrest or sell. Neither of us could imagine selling the house, so this is our way of easing into the idea. And it'll give mom some extra income since she's no longer working at the restaurant. Not that she needs it. Greg insists she focus on finding her passion rather than finding a job right away. He isn't rich by any means, but does well enough to provide for them both. I feel relieved knowing she won't have to struggle anymore.

Greg is a great guy. He reminds me a little of Dad in small ways. His overall stature and easy smile, his penchant for sarcasm, and his work ethic are all very similar. He's a bit older than Dad was and definitely has a silver fox thing going for him. He looks every bit the tenured history professor. I can absolutely see the appeal, not that I'd ever admit that to my mother.

I study his expression as he watches my mother approach. The love is obvious in the way his eyes are shining, glassy with tears and a look of awe on his face. They both lose the battle to keep their tears at bay the moment I place her hand in his. I move back to stand next to my new stepbrother, Vance, as one of Greg's groomsmen. His daughter, Vanessa, stands beside Susan on my mother's side. Vanessa and Vance seem nice, and we've integrated our two families pretty seamlessly. It helps that all of us kids are adults. Vance is a couple years older than I am, and Vanessa, who was recently married herself, is in her late twenties. Vance lives on the west coast, near Portland, I think. And Vanessa just moved to the Boston area with her new husband, who is some kind of civil rights lawyer. They look just as happy for their dad as I am for my mom.

Later, at the picnic-style reception, I'm trying to hold in my laughter while my cousin gets stared down by my new stepbrother.

"What is his deal?" Sean whispers, trying to avoid making eye contact.

"How should I know? I've only met the guy once before. He's nice enough. Bit of a shit-starter from what I can tell."

"What do you mean?"

"I dunno. He's super blunt and calls people on their bullshit, which isn't the worst thing, but it stirs up drama." Sean lifts an eyebrow, waiting for more details. "At Thanksgiving, my mom was asking how school was going. You know, normal stuff. He was overly curious about why I was going to a junior college if I was such a basketball star like his dad told him and wouldn't drop it. Well, it escalated from there, and we had to physically hold him back from finding out where Ashton lives so he wouldn't go interrogate him, or egg his house, or whatever he was going to do. It was weird, dude. Greg says he has issues with people being untruthful."

"That's intense."

"Vance is intense, for sure. He doesn't seem like a bad guy. Just maybe don't get on his bad side." We both laugh uncomfortably for a moment.

"Speaking of school-—are you still thinking about CVU?"

"It’s pretty much a done deal. I put in my application, and Greg brought me to campus to meet his friend, who is an assistant coach for the team. They were showing me around the facilities, which are swanky by the way, and we ran into the coach. Nice guy."

Sean grunts. "Rich people."

"Oh, hush. You're just mad I'm not coming to Hunston with you."

"I'm going to have to room with a stranger. I hate strangers."

"You'll manage," I laugh. "Hell, maybe you'll get lucky and they won't accept my application. Lord knows I'm not the kind of student they're used to having around there. But Greg says they're trying to build up their basketball program, and they have room on the roster for a walk-on. If I work hard and play my cards right, I could qualify for a full scholarship for next year."

"Isn’t CVU wicked expensive, though? How are you going to afford that?”

"Yeah, it’s one of the most expensive schools in the country," I confirm. "But now that I'm officially Greg's stepson, I qualify for some of his faculty benefits. I can get half of my tuition paid for?—”

"Which basically makes it the same price as everywhere else," Sean interrupts, but gestures for me to continue.

"I'll have a grant for half my tuition, and I got a small academic scholarship for making the Dean’s List every semester I’ve been at Wake Prep. Greg insists on buying all my books for the first year as an incentive to come join him at CVU, and I'll get student loans to pay for the rest of it. All I have to do is get through the first year, prove myself, and hope for a scholarship for next year."

"And what if a scholarship doesn’t open up? Is it going to be worth going into debt and being miserable?”

"I could be miserable anywhere. I’ll do what it takes to get by if it means a better future.”

Choosing to go somewhere like Cumberland Valley University is a calculated career move. Just from my walkthrough with Greg, I know I'm not likely to fit in. Even with him by my side making introductions, I could feel many of the professors and even the basketball coach looking down their noses at me. I'm not expecting to make a ton of friends, but a chance at a degree from an elite university isn't an opportunity I can ignore. Is there a part of me that will miss the friends I made at Wake Prep, and wishes I could choose a school based on where I'm going to have the most fun? Absolutely. But I'm doing this to set myself up for success. This is how I can follow my passion and be successful, so I don't end up in a situation where I could lose everything and have to work myself to death like my dad did.

“I guess that’s true. I hate it, because I really hoped you’d come to Hunston with me like we always planned, but I get it. I think your dad would be proud.”

“Thanks, ‘cuz.” I throw my arm around Sean’s thick neck when he pulls me in for a hug.

"What's going on over here?" Vance slides up to our table, looking between Sean and me. The way Vance glares at Sean would be creepy if I didn’t already know how intense he can be.

"Nothing much, just chatting about starting school."

"Oh yeah. Dad is honestly a little too excited that someone finally wants to go to his stuffy, elitist school full of pompous douchebags with over inflated egos the size of their massive trust funds."

"Wow," I say, trying not to laugh. "Tell us how you really feel."

"I just did," he deadpans, shaking his head as he walks away, exasperated.

Sean and I crack up, and I think, not for the first time, how I'm so thankful I have him in my life. He's the only one that knows the full truth of what happened with Ashton and his friends that night in high school. He's the one that listened to me agonize over how stupid I felt, falling for Ashton's charms like that. He was the one that showed me how to change all my privacy settings on social media so he couldn't contact me or see any of my posts. And he was the one that encouraged me to fight back and speak up against Kent Richards, which I'm sure he's still disappointed I didn't do. It was his opinion, one that my mother shared, that I should have sued them for defamation.

Sean is convinced the whole thing was a setup. He didn’t feel that kiss though. He didn’t feel the need and hunger rolling off Ashton in waves, or the way he gripped me so tight I thought I’d have bruises. Can that kind of passion be faked? Or am I really so pathetic that I’d fall for a play like that?

It’s over now, so it doesn't matter. I've moved on with my life, and I need to stop letting everything remind me of him.

It's been two years since I saw Ashton James in person, and that was as he was leaving the courthouse. He'd tried to get my attention, but before he could say anything to me, his father and an entire team of lawyers walked out. Once they ushered Ashton away, his father turned back to confront me and told me that under no uncertain terms would I ever be coming near his son again.

“I know your type. I knew your father. And I’ll not let my son be swayed by the likes of you.”

Every time I've seen Ashton since then has been on a television screen. At first, I avoided it. But he was absent for a while, not getting much attention from the media since he wasn't actively playing. I’ll never forget the day his press statement was released. It was so obviously written by his father’s PR people, nothing but canned professionalism and fake humility that sounded nothing like the Ashton James I knew.

This past year, Ashton was back on the court, and back on TV playing at one of the NCAA’s top schools. He had a decent season, although I'm sure it wasn't the breakout success he was hoping for. His stats weren't as good as they were in high school, but at the Division One collegiate level, he had to anticipate more of a challenge. It was easy when we were the tallest, fastest, best players on our high school teams. You score more baskets when everyone's throwing you the ball, counting on you to win. But it's a different game in college. That's one thing taking two years at Wake Prep has taught me.

Thankfully, Sean gets my attention again, ripping me out of my intrusive thoughts. "So when do summer classes and training start?"

"Next week."

"Oh damn. You ready?"

"As ready as I can be."

And it's the truth. I'm ready. Ready for every challenge that gets thrown at me, on and off the court. Ready for early mornings and late nights. Ready to work my ass off to prove I deserve to be there.

Because my future starts now.