Page 24 of Cruel Steps

“My mom got married.”

“Congrats.” I smiled.

“No. It’s not like that.” His nostrils flared, and he glanced around the weight room before motioning for me to follow him. Once we were clear of the main area, he spoke. “She’s only known the guy for a few months. But it’s what my mom does. She meets someone and believes they’ll be the one to save her.” I’d never heard him talk about his mom with so much bitterness before. His dad… Well, that was a different story. But never his mom.

“Damn. That sucks. So, this guy? He’s awful?”

“Actually…” he stalled, “he seems decent. He’s filthy rich, so there’s gotta be some skeletons in his closet. All rich dudes have them, so it’s only a matter of when.”

“So, you’re worried about your mom?” I asked, feeling like I was still missing something.

“Yes. No.” He shook his head, running his hands through his hair. “She’s a grown woman and will do what she wants. It’s this rich guy’s daughter I can’t stand.”

My intuition pinged, and my gut sank.

“Why so?” I asked, my throat croaking. Holden was too in his head to hear it, and continued without much prompting.

“She’s just…” He grunted, mimicking strangling someone in front of him. Turning, his blue eyes met mine, and I schooled my features from reacting. Holden’s usual indifference was gone, and in its place was a swirl of emotions—anger, worry, and something deeper. He blinked, wiping it away, and all that remained was the anger. “I can’t explain it. She’s just trouble. The quicker I’m away from her, the better.”

“That’s pretty bold from only having met her a few times,” I challenged.

Holden’s jaw twitched like he was grinding his back molars. “There’s history with Hope.”

His words sounded false. “But you don’t believe it?”

“I…” Again, he stopped himself. Holden was hiding something; that much was clear. “It doesn’t matter. I need to be far away from her. Football’s my priority.”

The way he said the familiar words sounded more like a reminder for himself and not me.

“Good thing you’re moving, then. I’ll be home around noon tomorrow after my shift. Let me know if you need help moving in boxes.”

“All right.” Holden slapped me on the back and headed to the parking lot. I waited until he was gone and turned toward the auxiliary gym where I’d left Mer. Sneaking in the top portion, I leaned against the rails of the indoor track that ran around the upper gym.

Music blared on the speakers below, and three girls danced before a table of judges. I scanned the girls gathered and instantly spotted Mer stretching alone. The rest of the girls crowded together, whispering and occasionally glancing at her. Mer ignored them, focusing on herself. The longer they whispered, the more I wanted to go down there and shout at them for being nosey bitches.

I snorted at the thought. What would they think if the former ‘sweet fuck boy’ told them to stick their attitudes up their asses? Just the thought of losing that stupid nickname almost had me marching down there to do it.

It wasn’t that I hated being seen as sweet. I was. What I despised was being labeled and slotted into a category that didn’t encompass everything I was. Just because I hadn’t had a girlfriend yet didn’t mean I wasn’t boyfriend material. Or at least that was what I told myself. I believed in the concept of love, even if I hadn’t found it yet.

But Hayward didn’t work that way. The hierarchies on campus dictated who was allowed to date whom, which was complete bullshit, even without the whole ‘fuck boy’ label.

I had an elevated status on campus because I played football, and my sexual prowess made girls want to sleep with me. But because my net worth wasn’t in the one percent and my major was in veterinary science, it kept me at the lower end of dating material. Which I believed was the real reason I didn’t have a girlfriend, and often wondered if it was me who had the problem, or if campus politics were actually to blame. Not that I’d wanted to date anyone after the first date, but it was a whole chicken-egg debate.

Regardless, I much preferred animals to girls, anyway, when it came to long-term relationships.

Holden and I were often referred to as sweet and sour. He had the whole broody persona he used on and off the field, keeping people at a distance. His disinterest in relationships and hookups made him unobtainable, elevating his status. Especially since everyone knew he’d play professionally. Women threw themselves at him, wanting him more because he didn’t care.

Girls wanted to reform Holden and bed me. Lock him down and only sleep with me. It was the worst type of oxymoron.

Fortunately, between my work study, football practice, classes, and job at the shelter, I didn’t have free time this year. Something I thought would help me stay away from girls and their vaginas. No temptation, no worries. I could go a whole year without sex. My right hand disagreed, but he didn’t get to control me.

It helped that I hadn’t been interested in anyone since learning what the girls of Hayward called me. Though, Hope had made it known she liked me, but I let her down gently. She claimed Holden wouldn’t care about bro code, but that wasn’t the reason I said no. Hope appeared like the complete package on paper—beautiful, popular, and intelligent—but there was no chemistry between us.

Plus, and this was something I’d never admit to Holden—she was mean. Not to my face or Holden’s that I knew, but I’d once overheard her talking to a group of girls, and it was brutal. I wouldn’t have believed it was Hope if I hadn’t heard it myself. After that encounter, I’d heard other grumblings from girls I slept with about things that made me question who Hope really was. How did I know she wasn’t pretending with me if she could act that well? No, there were too many questions revolving around Hope, and it wasn’t something I needed in my life.

Add in a secret I’d only shared with one person, and Hope would never be the one for me.

The music ended, breaking my musing, and the next group of three moved into position. My eyes immediately fell on Mer at the end of the line, and my heart picked up. Selfishly, I wanted her to make it so I could see her more. If she became a Wolfette, then she’d be at the games.

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