Page 33 of Forging Legacy

An unknown number rings my phone as I’m hurrying home from the study session, and I send it to voicemail.

I reach the apartment, stop in the kitchen for a protein bar, and make the mistake of pulling out my phone. I hear Nick’s sick voice in the message, telling me he’s going to send old videos of him and my mother to the press.

It’s all too much: his sneering voice, his threats, the rejection from Fern when she’s the one person who has made me feel at ease this entire year. My heart races, and a buzzing sound takes over my awareness. I’m choking on the protein bar, sweating, sinking to the floor in the kitchen, pressing my palms over my ears.

I don’t realize I’ve been shouting until I see Odin’s face in front of mine, his hands on my shoulders. I can’t hear him, but I see his mouth moving. He’s saying my name.

Eventually, he wraps his arms around me. Eventually, I hear his words. “I got you, man. I got you. You’re okay, dude.”

I don’t know how much time passes or how I get to the sofa, but once I can hear and see again, my cousins are all pressed against me, concerned. Odin, Stellen, and Gunnar each have a hand on my body, grounding me. Odin, who should be asleep getting ready for the Black and Gold football game this weekend, pulls me in for a hug and plants a kiss on top of my head. “Cuz, you gotta tell us what’s going on. This is scaring us, man.”

Stellen holds out my phone. “Can you start by telling us what the fuck this is about?”

I blink at him a few times and then sink back into the couch. I close my eyes. Odin says, “Don’t make me call Wes to come over here. He says you’ve been a moody bastard this entire year, and he’s not wrong. He’s been checking up on you, man. So, let’s have it. We stick together, right?”

I nod and pull up the message transcript. I can’t handle hearing his voice again. They all read it, cursing. “He’s been at this shit all year. He wants money, I think. Or just wants to win? It all started when I tried to change my name.” My cousins all sit rapt, silent, waiting for me to continue. They know how much I hate it when the media brings up my past, but they don't know anything about what’s currently happening. I tell them how I’ve been trying to get my name changed, how initially I had to report it in a newspaper, and that’s when he really started harassing me. I tell them how I don’t want to sign a pro contract with anything linking me to that piece of scum, how I want to be a full and legal part of the Moyer-Stag clan.

“It doesn’t matter to me that my dad has me in his will or whatever. It’s not about money to me. It’s about belonging.”

Odin coughs. “Do you think you don’t belong with us? Is that what this is?”

I blink at him. “Not entirely. But sort of. I mean, I’m literally the ugly step-child in this situation.”

Stellen groans. “Not one of us cares about who your bio dad is, fucker. Do you think we treat Cara like she’s not part of the family? She’s stuck with us, dude. And you’ve heard the stories about how all our dads came through for your dad when your mom got the restraining order on Nick all those years ago.”

Stellen stands up. “Actually, I’m calling my dad. And yours. This isn’t okay, man.”

“Please don’t, Stell. Odin, come on. I’ve been handling this on my own.”

Odin stands up with Stellen, and Gunnar joins them. Odin glowers at me. “I found you on the floor in the kitchen having a panic attack, Wyatt. You are not okay. That’s just facts.”

Stellen steps away, and I hear him murmuring into the phone. When I try to get up and stop him, Odin and Gunnar press me back onto the couch. Odin places a hand on top of my head. “I’ll sit on you if I have to, but you’re going to stay here and endure a Stag family meeting right the hell now.”

Ten minutes later, my dad and uncles Tim, Ty and Thatcher are crammed in our living room, all gray beards and crossed arms and confusion. Uncle Tim passes out a cardboard box full of fancy bubble water. “This situation seemed to call for San Pellegrino,” he says.

My dad frowns at him. “Since when do we drink this shit? I thought you were bringing whiskey.”

Uncle Ty shakes his head. “The boys are in season, Hawk. You know they have nutrition plans.”

Dad rolls his eyes and pops open his drink, wedging his body onto the sofa by mine. “Want to tell us what this is about, son?”

I shake my head. My cousin Wes appears in the doorway, looking disheveled. Dad frowns at him. “You’re in season too. You have a fucking game tomorrow. I’m going to bench your ass.”

Wes shrugs. “Some things are more important than soccer.” He tells the room how I’ve been withdrawn since at least August and how I confided in him that I heard from Nick months ago.

Dad curses and crumples his empty can. “Does your mother know about this?”

I shake my head. “No, and this is exactly why I didn’t want to get any of you involved. Mom has been through enough.” Not only did she have to deal with my abusive father for years, but she also dealt with a sexual harassment crisis in professional soccer. She’s been stressed up to her ears, and I even ruined her escape to refresh at the ski chalet. I feel sad and defeated as I tell him, “I’m not going to be the one to upset her. Not again.”

Dad looks at me strangely and then, quick as a cat, snatches my phone from my hand. He scowls, and I know he’s scrolling through my messages. I worry for a moment that he’s reading my conversations with Fern, but then I realize he doesn’t give a fuck who I’m sleeping with. He’s reading the unknown number messages and transcripts from the calls I never deleted out of fear I’d need them for the police. Because I always knew Nick would come for me. I know he’s not safe, and he’s not mentally healthy.

A wave of shame crests and splashes over me as my Dad reads the messages and sees my inability to get rid of this guy and the potential to bring down this incredible family who never asked for this kind of drama.

Odin catches my eye as I’m twitching on the couch and moves so he’s squatting in front of me, his massive body shielding out the noise in the room as people continue yelling. “Wyatt.” Odin squeezes my shoulders. “Do you honestly believe this family won’t shred anyone who tries to fuck with one of us?”

I shake my head rapidly. “No, that’s not it. I–” A sob catches in my throat, and I just keep shaking my head.

Wes and Gunnar circle around me like we’re in a huddle waiting for a medic on the field. Odin rests his forehead against mine. “You’re not just a regular cousin. You’re my brother, man. And I already have enough fucking brothers.”

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