“Your words to God’s ears.” I sighed. “Hopps Bar, okay?”
“Hopps is great,” she replied. “Did you know that electrician guy? He was hot.”
“No,” I answered. “I just met him today.”
“You should ask him out,” she suggested.
“Yeah, because someone really wants to date the daughter of a pedophile,” I muttered.
She had nothing to say to that.
Neither did I.
We pulled into the parking lot of Hopps and we both bailed out of the car.
She pulled her sweatshirt’s hood closer around her face as we got to the door and said, “It’s fucking cold.”
I shot her a laughing smile.
“Miami weather spoiling you?” I teased.
“I don’t know that I ever want to come back,” she admitted.
I knew that she didn’t want to come back. But that didn’t make hearing the words any easier.
I missed my sister, and I had a feeling that even if she wasn’t playing professionally, she’d still make her home anywhere but here.
“But without our parents in the picture,” I pointed out. “You wouldn’t be as unhappy if you were here.”
She pulled open the door before saying, “I guess you’re right.”
Nettie and I hadn’t had an easy childhood. We both had to fight for our lives to stay out from under our father’s fists. The only thing that saved us was that we had to be able to show up to every Sunday sermon no matter what.
And luckily, we were both really good at soccer, otherwise we wouldn’t have been permitted to play. It would’ve looked weirder had our father kept us from playing seeing as we were the best damn players in the area, let alone the state.
We’d been known as Hell on Wheels to the Olympic committee.
However, where Antoinette had succeeded, I had not. I’d torn every ligament in my knee my freshman year of college and had to have extensive reconstructive surgery on it to the point where I knew I’d never play again.
My sister had threatened to quit with me because “it wasn’t the same without me” but I’d forced her to stay.
At least one of us was going to accomplish our goals. And she’d done it. She’d succeeded to the point where she was playing on a professional women’s team.
My baby sister of a whole three minutes got to play in front of thousands. She’d made the Olympics.
I was so happy for her I could cry.
I was even happier for her that she got the hell away from this place and our parents.
I just wish I’d had the courage to leave myself.
But I hadn’t.
I’d fallen back to what I’d always known, applying for a job at the local high school.
The school had sent me through school to become a certified teacher, and I’d accomplished my own new set of dreams.
“How long do you think you’re going to be able to stay?” I asked, feeling a pang against my chest from my aching heart.
