A shadow dusts Alfie’s face that says all I need to know. “He’s a Hannigan kid. His granddad is the guy who went to prison years back for killing John Foreman and then leaving him to float in his pool. Remember that?”
How can I forget?That case was vicious and went unsolved for almost a year—an eighty-six-year-old man was killed ruthlessly. It was all Sugar Creek could talk about for months. No females went anywhere alone, and every teenage boy had a plan to kick the shit out of the guy if he broke into their house. It was a wild time. Mom cried in relief when he was caught.
“Well, that’s who this kid comes from,” Alfie says. “I feel sorry for the boy. He’s a shithead, but he’s always got a smile on his face.”
“He needs a mouthguard.”
“Again?”
I chuckle. “He’s afraid to ask you.”
“I don’t know why in the hell he’s afraid now. I’ve given him six or seven this month.”
Six or seven this month? Fuck.
“That’s probably why.” I stand, stretching my shoulder carefully over my head. The muscles fight against me and scream in protest. It’s all I can do not to wince in front of Alfie. “Do you have any lockers open?”
“Probably. Why?”
“Let’s give him one. I’ll pay the rent. Have him leave his mouthguard and shoes there. Maybe it’ll help him keep his shit together.”
Alfie leans back in his chair, grinning. “Remind you of someone you know?”
A little.
As a kid, Dad ensured our home life was in constant turmoil. Whether he was dealing drugs, buying stolen merchandise, or spending all our money on God knows what, nothing was ever calm. Mom busted her ass working two or three jobs a day to ensure I had something to eat, and water would run from the tap. Most of the time, anyway.
I kept a smile on my face, not wanting anyone to know if I’d been up all night or if I had an ulcer from worrying about things that should never cross a kid’s mind. I just wanted to be normal like everyone else. And the only time I could get a reprieve from that was if I were playing sports or at Gray’s.
But being in the gym did something for me that nothing else did. It let me work out my rage while also exhausting my mind.If you think of anything besides fighting while you’re on the mat, you’ll get hit—and getting hit hurts. It was a respite in the storm of my life.
That’s what I see in Trent’s eyes, too. Hell, it might be in mine these days, as well.
I shake my head. “Nah, I was a hell of a lot cuter than that kid.”
“My ass.” Alfie chuckles. “You’ve always been an ugly little shit.”
“Right. Now I know you’re full of it.”
He groans, rolling his eyes as he starts to chuckle again.
“Nice chat, but I gotta go,” I say. “Promised Mom I’d swing by Miller’s Market and get her a couple of bags of frozen blackberries.”
His eyes light up. “Is she making her famous cobbler by any chance?”
“The hell if I know. I just do what I’m told.”
“Well, you tell Miss Sally that ole Alfie could use a piece of cobbler if she has one extra lying around.”
I give him a wave. “I’ll see what I can do. Later.”
“See ya, Brooks.”
I duck out of the side door into the parking lot, shivering against the cold. Goose bumps break across my flesh as I climb inside my truck and start it. Then I pull onto the street, my tires splashing in the potholes filled with water from last night’s storm.
The old brick buildings and small shotgun houses put up during a coal mining boom in the late 1800s line the side of the road. Large whiskey barrels placed by the Sugar Ladies Club beneath each light pole sit empty, waiting for the colorful flowers that my mother and her friends will install as soon as spring arrives. A sign for the farmers’ market, set to reopen in a few months, has a trash bag draped over it.
I flip my turn signal to turn left into Miller’s Market, but I notice a pretty blonde in a white Jeep waiting to pull onto the street from the gas station. Her eyes meet mine through the glass, her lips parted as if she’s surprised to see me. A slow smile tugs at my lips.
