Page 23

TWENTY-THREE

jack

“Jack, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Sam hisses, covering my hand with his and twisting it off.

I can barely control my anger.

It’s like a goddamn pot of boiling hot water about to overflow.

I swallow it down, aware of peoples’ curious eyes on me.

But it singes my insides, searing my throat like a knot of magma ready to spew.

“It’s Jeremy,” I seethe.

“His arm and neck are full of bruises.”

“And?” Sam snaps.

“Did he get hurt at school?”

“He said he got hit playing basketball in gym class.” My voice tightens.

“But it’s bullshit. He couldn’t even look me in the eye. And he just took a nasty fall on the ice, right on his injured arm. I know it was his father who did it, and I want that fucking bastard here. Now.”

Sam grabs me by the arm and leads me to an empty office.

Carter follows behind and closes the door behind us.

“Look, you can’t just assume his father caused those injuries by looking at him. He could have gotten those bruises in gym class like he said. He told you he did. Why don’t you believe him? ”

I rake a hand through my hair, gritting my teeth.

“Because I can tell, okay?”

Sam shakes his head.

“Not good enough, buddy. You can’t go accusing people of abuse, okay? Not without any proof. We aren’t here to make assumptions about the home lives of these kids. We are here to help if they come to us, but we can’t make rash moves because of what we think might be happening.”

“I wanna talk to the guy myself,” I growl, driving my fist into the top of the table.

“I’ve seen him before and he looks like?—”

“Stop right there,” Sam says, holding up a hand.

“You’re going to leave this alone. Until Jeremy comes to us, there isn’t anything we can do. Do you realize the liability if we accuse his father of abuse and it turns out Jer’s story about gym class is true? We’re trying to do good here, Jack. We’re not social workers.”

“And so if we see something that looks suspicious, we should just ignore it?” I stick a finger in his face.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. We should at least alert CPS.”

“Our hands are tied unless Jeremy speaks out.” Sam is quiet for a minute.

“Did you ask him if his father hurt him?”

I shake my head.

“No.”

“Okay, so how are you going to justify taking this case to CPS? The kid didn’t even mention his dad.”

“Sammy, what if he’s scared?” My voice drops.

“What if he’s afraid of what might happen if he speaks up? We don’t know much about the parents of these kids. The dad might be a total fucking psychopath. Should we send him home with a guy like that?”

Sam lets out a deep sigh and exchanges a look with Carter.

“If you make an accusation without any authority, you’d be sending him home without any protection. He’d be at this guy’s mercy. How would that be better? ”

“There has to be something we can do to protect him.” I fist the sides of my hair.

“If nobody is willing to help him, he’s gonna end up…”

My voice trails off.

“It’s gonna destroy him,” I finally say.

“It will ruin him in so many ways, if he makes it out alive.”

“I think that’s a little dramatic.” Sam sinks into a chair.

“But fine, let’s talk about how this plays out. One, we confront him and we’re wrong. You embarrass the dad and the kid and maybe the dad decides not to bring him anymore, which would be terrible because Jeremy has a lot of talent. Two, we confront the guy and we’re right, which, by the way, we wouldn’t know because he’d never admit to it. So the end result is we send the kid home with the deadbeat dad and he beats on him some more because he feels like the kid sold him out. Three, we do nothing and wait.”

“Wait for what? The longer the kid is in that kind of place without any protection, the more desperate he’s gonna get. We don’t know his circumstances. He might not have anyone else in his life or anywhere else to go. The time will come for him to make a decision. And it could be the wrong one. We might be able to stop that from happening. Don’t we owe it to him to try?”

Sam drums his fingers on the top of the Formica table.

Carter stands up. “I’m going to help out the coach and give you guys some time to talk privately.”

He smiles at me and gives my shoulder a squeeze before walking out of the office.

My gaze lingers on him for a second too long, and when I turn back to Sam, his lips crook.

“So, you and Van Kleef? I had a feeling about him after the night at Electric Lunch. I guess the rivalry is dead and buried?”

“We’ve moved on. This is just…friendly teammate shit. ”

“That’s all?” Sam crosses his arms behind his head.

“Looks like more to me than just friendly teammate shit.”

I shrug.

“Believe what you want. But you know I don’t like to get deep.”

Sam’s smile fades.

“Yeah, I remember.”

A deep sigh slumps my shoulders.

“I know. I was a sucky boyfriend and I’m sorry. You deserved better and it looks like you got it. So I’m happy for you.”

“Yeah, but what about what you deserve?” Sam reaches out to clap me on the shoulder.

“Isn’t it time?”

“It’s never time to get your heart stomped on.”

“And you think he’d do that?”

“I think he’s confused. And I also think he’s afraid. Those throw up really big red flags for me. Fuck buddies, I can handle. But anything more with someone who really isn’t in it?”

“What makes you say that? Did he tell you he was scared?”

“No, but I know him and how he is. He wouldn’t be able to handle it. It’s a lot. You know it, I know it. Professional athletes who are openly gay get a lot of criticism. You’ve gotta be ready to deal with it, and I just don’t know if he’s really considered everything that would change for him.”

“Maybe he thinks you’re worth it.”

“And maybe we need to get back to the reason we’re in here.” I crack each one of my knuckles and Sam winces.

“I really hate when you do that.”

“Sorry, it helps me think.” I tap my palms on the table and let out a frustrated sigh.

“Fine. You win this time. I’ll be good and keep my mouth shut. For now. But if I see anything off, I’m gonna fucking blow.”

“Jack, why the focus on Jeremy? I mean, I get wanting to protect the kid but why?—?”

“Because my own father was an abusive asshole, okay? I had to deal with the same shit every day of my life. Burns, scars, bruises. I know you’ve seen them and you accepted my bullshit excuses about where they came from, which I appreciated. I had nobody besides him. Nowhere else to go. I was stuck. I don’t want any other kid to feel stuck like that. So if his dad really is hurting him, just know that I won’t sit back and let it happen. Fair warning.”

Sam nods.

“I appreciate the heads up. And I’m sorry about your dad. I would have liked the chance to help you through all that.”

I scrub a hand down the front of my face.

“I know I was a sucky communicator, too. It was just easier to bury it than to rehash it all and let my mind go back to that hell I managed to escape.”

He doesn’t know the extent of the hell.

Only one person does.

I give Sam a fist bump, walk out of the office, and head toward the rink.

A smile tugs at the corners of my lips when I see Carter on the ice with Jeremy, showing him a few moves he’s used during the last few games.

Jeremy’s eyes shine and he stares at Carter like he’s a god.

I lace up my skates and head to the center of the ice.

The three of us have a lot of laughs doing round robin drills, and when I glance up at the clock, I can’t believe an hour has passed.

I slap Jeremy on the top of his helmet.

“Great job today, bud.”

“Thanks, Coach…es,” he says shyly.

“It was a lot of fun working with you guys.”

He heads to the edge of the ice and sits on a bench to unlace his skates.

“You’re really good with kids,” I say to Carter.

“Jer takes a while to warm up, but he seemed really open to you after only a little while. Thanks for that. He needs to build his confidence, so you spending that time with him will go a long way.”

Carter smiles.

“My pleasure. I love kids, and he’s got a lot of grit. I can see it. He’ll be really successful if he keeps up with his training.”

“Yeah, well, that’s the problem. Making sure he can do that. These kids don’t have a lot of money, so we do the best we can, but beyond that?—”

The words die on my lips.

Jeremy is outside the rink, cowering against the glass when he sees a man stomping toward him.

I skate to the edge of the ice and fumble with my laces.

I pull the skates off, drop them on the floor, and dart out of the rink in only my socks.

Jeremy follows the man toward the exit.

Dammit.

“Jack,” Sam calls out to me as I run past, a warning in his voice.

But I ignore him. I’m not gonna start shit.

I just wanna see him up close.

“Hey, Jeremy,” I say, putting a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

He looks up at me, a startled expression on his face.

The man turns around and a familiar tightening of my chest follows when he narrows his beady eyes at me.

“Who are you?”

The stench of beer hits my nostrils and my gut clenches.

“Jack Larson, Oakland Raptors,” I say with the fakest fucking smile I can manage.

“Just wanted to let you know what a stellar player you’ve got here.”

The dad glares at Jeremy and then at me.

“I hope you’re not gonna try to get him into some program. I don’t have money for his little hobby. He needs to get a real skill instead of dancing around on skates for hours every day. ”

“Nobody is looking for money,” I say, my fists itching to take a punch at the guy.

“This is all free. But he’s got a lot of talent. You should be proud of him.”

You should at least fucking look at him , my brain screams.

The guy lets out a grunt.

Doesn’t bother with a thank you.

Just fucking grunts.

Then he turns around and continues to walk toward the door.

Jeremy gives me a wave, then his shoulders hunch and he follows his father.

I stand there for a few minutes, watching them leave the building, stewing, visualizing myself pounding the shit out of the guy who I’m convinced is beating his kid.

A hand clasps my wrist and I turn to see Carter’s pinched expression.

“I know you want to help him, Jack. But you can’t save everyone.”

A shudder quakes my insides.

“Am I really supposed to sit back and watch it happen without doing anything about it? The kid needs help. I needed help and nobody gave a shit.”

I pull my gaze from Carter’s pained expression.

“I know how it feels to be invisible, to be completely alone without any escape from the hell I lived in. To be desperate for a future far away from the one person who was supposed to love me unconditionally but hated me instead.”

Carter’s grip on me tightens but he doesn’t speak.

He doesn’t need to.

“Is this what you wanted? To break down my walls, figure out who I am beneath the layers, and hear my sob story?” I lean close to him.

“Trust me, you haven’t even scratched the surface.”