Page 63 of Quarterback Sneak

“He wasn’t the only asshole back then. When we first met, we both had an attitude. We had nothing in common except for one thing, both of us had deadbeat dads. By that time, Patrick would disappear for months and things between my mom and I would be good. Then he come back, and it would start all over again.”

Ivy pressed her lips together, a slight quiver in the gesture. He wanted to kiss her but refrained. He had to get the words out before they stalled in self-preservation.

“She finally told him to get out. I was in junior high school and was the youngest member of the varsity team, in both baseball and football. I enjoyed both sports, but baseball was a bit too tame for me. I preferred football because it allowed me to get my aggression out and to strategize. As a quarterback, I ran the show.”

“Unlike at home, where you had no control.” Ivy kicked up her feet and her pink painted toes breached the surface. He wanted those slender toes to slide up his leg, her body writhing under his while he forgot about this unpleasantness. But there was more to this story and he owed her all of it.

“I did whatever I could to try to be normal. Only I wasn’t normal. Not to be egotistical, but through perseverance and a natural instinct, I started to gain attention from the coaching staff. And I wasn’t the only one who my head coach paid attention to.”

“Howler played football as well?” Ivy asked.

He wasn’t sure if it were the lighting or tears giving her face a moist sheen. “Yes, he did but I’m not talking about Howler. My mom and my coach started dating and eventually married.” Sam smiled at the memory, a Phoenix out of the flames. “Of course, I was embarrassed to have my mom and coach hooking up, as Howler delighted in reminding me every chance he got.”

“Of course.” Ivy giggled and let her warm hand rest on his thigh. “As kids we are aware that our parents sleep in the same bed but never put the pieces together. At least I didn’t until Luca challenged me to a gross out contest. I used to say I was dropped from the heavens. My brother swore I was vomited out of hell.”

Sam chuckled, glad to lessen the tension. He looped his arm around her neck, drawing her close to him. “I think you’re an angel.”

“Good call,” Ivy agreed.

He kissed the top of her head and inhaled the sweet fragrance of her shampoo. “You’re lucky to have such a great family.”

“Yes, I am. We have our struggles but nothing like yours, I assure you,” Ivy said.

“My stepfather is a good man, the complete opposite of Patrick.”

“How did your stepfather take it? I assume he knew about the abuse,” Ivy said.

“Not all the details, just the fact that Patrick was obnoxious. She got a restraining order against him and was happier than I’d ever remembered. Of course, he had to come back and ruin it all.”

“What about the restraining order?” Ivy snuggled into him, a good sign.

“She had a restraining order, I didn’t. Patrick showed up to a game and approached me as I was leaving the locker room. He was drunk and on one of his highs. He kept talking about how he was this star jock in high school. I wasn’t interested in his bullshit and I told him so.” His shoulders bunched before he could stop the action and he started to pull away from her.

She squeezed his arm, offering her silent support. He wanted to call a halt to the story and suppress the raw emotion rising within his chest. There was no positive spin he could put on it, nor did he want to. “The bastard slapped me for my insolence. His words, not mine. Did I mention he was a pretentious son of a bitch?”

“I kind of gathered that. Men like him usually are,” Ivy said.

“I was so pissed, I punched him.”

“No way. You punched your dad?” Ivy righted herself and stared at him, incredulous.

He ground the words out through clenched teeth, residual shame mingling with regret. “And I kept hitting him and hitting him until I knocked him to the ground. Until coach stopped me.”

Capable hands gripped his clenched fists. “You were understandably angry.”

“In that moment, I was just like him. I understood what dominating in a fight was like and I was itching for more.” He extricated himself from her grasp and jumped to his feet. The tile was slick and he braced his feet, his knee pulling at the action. Tightness encompassed his chest and he shook his arms to loosen up his tense nerves. “That night was the worst experience of my life. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t sorry I fought back. I was sorry I kept fighting when my victim was helpless to fight anymore. Does that make sense?”

“Perfect sense. But you’re forgetting one thing. You’re not him. You’re a kind and sweet man, caring and giving. You’ve proven it over and over again.”

“On that night, I was him, Ivy.” He ran his palm to the back of his neck and squeezed. “Out of control. The most common age to show signs of bi-polar disorder is in your late teens and early twenties. I was fourteen, and hormonal, uncertain if I hated the world because I was a teenager or if I inherited the illness from Patrick.”

“It sounds like you were scared as well as angry.”

The clink of ceramic against the cement caught his attention and he turned to see her right her mug which had spilled

“I’m sorry, let me get you some more tea.” Something to do beside simmer in his own self-loathing.

“I was done with it anyway.” She clasped his hands. “Finish your story.”

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