“You do, though, that’s not it. Not all of it, anyway.” I turn to my side, and he mirrors me. Our eyes meet and my stomach dips like when a plane begins its descent. “It’s because I love you.”
Tears well in his eyes, but a brilliant smile stretches his sinful lips from ear to ear. “I love you, too, Brandon.”
“I’ve never been in love before.”
He inches his way closer, his breath ghosts across my face, our eyes still locked. “I’m honored to be your first.” I close thescant distance between us and kiss him hard. Everything I feel, everything I can’t figure out how to say, I pour into that kiss and hope he understands.
He might be my first, but I know with absolute certainty, he will also be last. My only.
Oscar 10.
On shaky legs, I pace my apartment, my heart racing, my mind whirling with questions that I don’t want the answers to. It’s one thing to read about the depravity of man in a textbook, or even the headline of an article. To discuss them as events of the past, distant and far removed from your carefully constructed, safe life. It’s another for that depravity to show up in your backyard…or football stadium as it were tonight.
I got the campus safety alert on my phone when I was already halfway home. Then Brandon texted me to give me the details. Phia Kerr, the football team’s water girl, Crue Pribula’s girlfriend, and a graduate student at the university was missing. Disappeared before the game started. I offered to come back, I was already looking for somewhere to turn around, when Brandon told me to go home, they had so many others looking for her already. He’d update me when he could.
His last text came about 20 minutes ago, more than 4 hours after the original alert, saying he was on his way over to my place. Knowing Brandon, knowing how close he is to everyone, I can’t begin to imagine how difficult this is for him. He’s all heart and his heart is crushed right now in the face of such viciousness. To see first-hand what the human race is capable of is harrowing.
My own heart hurts for everyone involved. All he said was that she was attacked and left for dead but is at the hospital andthey are hopeful she will make a full recovery. I’m hoping, if it isn’t too hard for him, he’ll give me more information when he arrives.
I hear heavy footsteps outside my door and rip it open without checking the peephole. Brandon has his head down, shoulders hunched, posture rigid as he stomps down the hall. He glances up and stops when he notices me watching him. With a heavy sigh, tears fill his eyes, and I run to him, not caring who sees us. I reach for him as he opens his arms, and we collide in a mess of tears, fears, and relief. He moves his hands to my thighs, and I jump up into his hold, my legs around his waist, as he walks into my apartment and shuts the door behind us. On the couch, I stay in his lap, and we cling to one another as if the closer we are can somehow reverse time or heal Phia…I hope it will heal Brandon.
He cries, silent sobs, his body trembling. I hug him tighter, my own heart breaking for him, for Phia, for Crue…for the university. Such tragedy is unheard of here and I can’t imagine how others will feel when the news spreads.
“He won’t get away with this!” He snarls, the sound after silence startling me. “Heacock fucked up. He trusted the wrong kids. I hope he fucking burns for what he’s done!”
I lean back, my hands coming up to cup his cheeks, my thumbs wiping away tears as they fall. I’ve never seen him like this before. So angry, furious, his eyes glittering with rage that takes my breath away.
“Brandon. Shh. Heacock did this?” He tells me through gritted teeth that Heacock was angry that Prib was turning down a spot in the NFL, that he hated that the board forced someone like Phia into the team dynamic, the players don’t respect him, Andres Abbott humiliated him…it all came to a head in his mind and he tapped two players on the team, exploiting their devotionto do his dirty work. He fully intended to kill Phia Kerr. My vision blurs with tears of my own as he lists Heacock’s many, many offenses. Not just now, but over the years. They’ve tried so hard to get rid of him, but his friends and cronies on the board wouldn’t allow it. Now, they have no choice, the police have taken over, and Brandon and Lilly are only the tip of the iceberg of people that will come forward with evidence against Heacock.
I can’t…how do you…I’m not sure how to process this.
“This is my fault,” he says vehemently, pushing me back and off his lap. “I didn’t stop him. I didn’t protect her. Didn’t protect Yanok or Chester who have followed him blindly into prison sentences!” He stands, hand tugging his hair as he paces the length of my living room. I sit on the couch, frozen, unsure how to help him, wondering if he just needs to get it all out. “I told Prib! I lied to him,I’ll take care of Heacock,but I didn’t! I shouldn’t have taken my arm off his neck, should have let him suffocate and die.”
“What?” I can’t have heard him right.
Wild eyes meet mine, and for a second, he’s unrecognizable, a man at the end of his rope. “In the locker room after he nearly attacked you…I had him against the wall, my arm against his windpipe. Told him to draft his resignation letter, told him his days were numbered. Instead, he tries to fucking murder an innocent young woman! Her pain and suffering are on me.” He thumps his chest twice, hot angry tears tracking down his lightly stubbled cheeks.
“NO! No, Brandon, no. It’s not.” He isn’t listening to me. I stand up and step in front of him. He grunts down at me when I don’t move. My hands on his cheeks, I force him to look at me. “You are not responsible for this. Heacock is. All of this is his doing, not yours. You did your best, but it isn’t your job to policea grown ass man! Certainly isn’t to predict he might commit murder! And you are NOT the man to take someone else’s life. Brandon, don’t do this to yourself.”
In a low, hoarse voice, almost devoid of emotion, he tells me, “My players, Prib, Phia, everyone who’s ever been on the receiving end of his ire…you. I failed you. I failed everyone. Phia is alive, but barely and she should have never been in the position to fight for her fucking life when it’s just beginning.” His eyes shutter and my heart sinks into my stomach. “You were right. Keeping our relationship a secret…it was the right thing to do. I’ve put you in danger just by loving me. What kind of monster am I? Selfish fucking bastard. I know what this world of sports is capable of. I’ve seen what it does to men and women, strips them of their humanity in the name of winning.” He shakes his head and pushes me gently away. I try to wrap my arms around him, but he backs away and puts his hands up. My soul weeps at his words, the meaning. Brandon is spiraling and I can do nothing but watch him spin. “The things people say about Ty and Lyndell, Prib not going pro, they don’t hesitate to stab someone in the back if it means a chance in the spotlight. I can’t do this to you. I won’t! I’m not putting you through that.”
Brandon stares at me for several long seconds, letting me see his heart as it shatters in his chest. I wish he’d let me hold him, hold the pieces of his heart until he’s ready. Instead, he turns to leave. Hand on my doorknob, his back to me, he whispers gutturally, “I love you, so fucking much.”
And then he’s gone.
I don’t chase after him, that’s not what he needs right now. He needs time to process, reconcile, and accept. I’m not going anywhere. Keeping our relationship on the down low is the right thing to do, right now. It’s not forever. We’ve only been together for a few weeks; I didn’t want to implode Brandon’s life for abrief fling or identity crisis. But what we have is real. True. The most honest part of my entire life.
I pull out my phone, blinking away my tears to see the screen. I click the contact and listen as it rings.
“Hey, Oscar.” Her voice is subdued; she’s obviously having a hard time with everything that happened tonight. This could be good for her too then.
“Jenna—”
“Oscar, what’s wrong?”
“Brandon just left my apartment. He’s…he’s not ok. Please, can you find him and make sure he gets home safely? Maybe stay with him for a while?”
“Thank you for calling me, Oscar. I’ll find him and text you when I do. I’ll keep him company…I could use some myself.”
