Page 27 of His Big Bad Stick

Coach Davis sends me to the showers and sends Archer to the medical room.

Just like that, practice is over for me.

I shower, dress, and leave.

As I walk toward my car, you’ll never guess who I see.

Archer.

Across the parking lot, sitting on the hood of his fancy ass, custom car.

He’s showing off his wounds… to Abrielle.

I grit my teeth and growl.

“Fucking curious kitten,” I whisper to myself.

You know what curiosity does to a cat… right?

She’s in an old hoodie with her hair on top of her head in a really messy bun.

Specks of paint on her face.

Her eyes intensely looking at her current work.

She’s got some weird ass music playing too. Like some kind of mediation crap going or whatever.

I turn and walk away.

I go into the kitchen, sneak a can of beer out of the fridge, and go to the pool for a swim.

If my old man catches me with a beer, he’ll just take it and tell me to knock it off.

I’m not in the pool for five minutes before Abrielle’s mother comes out and strips herself from an expensive shawl, showing off a way too small bikini.

And, hey, props to Abrielle’s mother.

She’s put together very nicely for her age.

“Hope you don’t mind,” she says with a smile that’s borderline flirty.

She sits down, lays back on a chair, and she’s sleeping in seconds.

She’s wearing out her welcome by staying home all day, drinking wine until she passes out.

I can almost promise you that right now my father has that new woman in his office. She’s probably under his desk, doing disgusting things to him while he’s on business calls.

And just like that, I’m sure in a few more weeks I’ll have a new stepmom running around the house.

I get out of the pool, drink the now semi-warm can of beer, and walk back down the hallway to Abrielle’s room.

This time I kick the door open.

The room is empty.

Abrielle is…

She’s in the fucking shower.

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