Page 51 of Fair Catch

Adding in this riff between him and his best friend—even if it’s for the best—I’m sure has only made things harder in that regard too.

“I don’t think you’ve told me how the two of you met.”

He hums in a way that sounds almost pained. Maybe even bittersweet, and it makes me regret saying anything at all. And that’s before he tacks on a sighed, “That’s a saga in itself.”

I can feel him shutting down on the topic, and that’s perfectly fine. Prying things out of people that they have a hard time talking about isn’t exactly my style, and it’s clear this topic is still a touchy one, even after he spilled quite a few details to me a few weeks back.So I’m not asking for anything else. If he wants to tell me, then he’ll be the one to bridge that gap.

And if he chooses not to, then we’ll just sit back, enjoy the rest of our movie, and—

“It was actually because of my father,” Kason murmurs, derailing my train of thought. “The reason I met Phoenix, I mean.”

There’s a strange sort of fluttering in my chest from him shoving down whatever discomfort he was feeling about this topic, choosing to confide in me instead. Although it makes no sense, it seems I wasn’t cognizant of my hope that he’d share this with me.

Treat me like an actual friend.

It takes him a second to continue, but when he does, my focus is his and his alone; movie be damned.

“He moved my mom and I to Nashville for a new job. He’d gone to work drunk or reeking of alcohol one too many times at the place he was working down in ‘Bama. Promises were made to convince my mom that carting us up to Tennessee was the right move: that things would change, thathe’dchange and be a better father, husband, provider, you name it. And for a little while, he was.” I watch silently as his fingers pick at his shirt in what’s clearly a nervous tic while he continues. “Since I was still just a kid, I’d been naive enough to believe he could actually follow through on all these promises he’d made the two of us in the long term. But it didn’t take more than a couple months for him to slip right back into his old habits.”

My stomach churns. I certainly didn’t picture any of this playing a factor in his friendship with Phoenix, but it must, if this is how he’s choosing to tell the story. Part of me wants to know—is curious to learn more about Kason’s upbringing and how he became the person he is today. But the sense of foreboding weighing on my chest tells me I’m not gonna like the answer.

Fortunately—or maybe unfortunately—Kason, once again, saves me from asking by freely divulging more of his past.

“You see, when my dad would drink, it wasn’t just one or two and he’d call it a night. It’d be six, seven, eight. Sometimes an even dozen, depending on the day, and as our time in Nashville progressed, it was more often than not. That much alcohol in him, and it didn’t take much to light his fuse—which was short on the rare occasions he was sober. And when Dad would get angry? Well, he needed somewhere to put it.

“In the beginning, it was just my mom he’d hit. Usually once, and it would be enough to temper whatever fit of rage he’d spiraled into. Then I think he started to like it. Get off on it, maybe. So he’d do it some more. Slap, hit, punch. Kick.”

He pauses to clear his throat, then takes a long, deep breath, like he’s steeling himself for the words that come next. Words that I know are about to leave his lips, yet I’m not prepared for when they finally do.

“The first time he hit me, I was twelve.It was because I broke a plate doing the dishes after dinner. He smacked me square across the face…and my mother didn’t say a thing. I think she knew if she did, he’d turn his anger on her, and why would she want that, right?” His voice cracks just the tiniest bit on the last few words, and he clears his throat again. “When I came home from school the next day, my mother was gone. No call, no text, no note. Just disappeared into the ether, like a phantom, leaving her only son to take her place.”

My eyes sink closed, my jaw ticking to keep my emotions in check. Because right now, I want nothing more than to throttle the woman who gave birth to him for leaving him in the hands of a monster.

Who the fuck does something like that?

“During this whole time, school was the only escape I had. But after that night, I didn’t even have that anymore. I was still the shy, scrawny new kid, and now whose mom just walked out on his family. I was already an easy target for the bullies, both mentally and physically, and boy were they quick to take advantage of it; her bailing just kicked it up a notch. Didn’t help that I wouldn’t put up much of a fight. One of the only people who was nice to me was Phoenix.

“We’d met maybe a month before my mother left. Partnered on a school project and overnight, he became my best friend, my favorite part of the day, my only refuge from the hell I endured at home. And like I told you before, he was my protector. He’d been fighting anyone who looked at me sideways since the first day of school, but even with him having my back, it wasn’t enough to help what happened at home. And Phoenix is smart, so it didn’t take much for him to realize what was happening, even if we didn’t talk about it. He noticed the bruises or cuts I’d come to school with and put two and two together. That’s when he started inviting me around his family more. Sleepovers, weekend trips; you name it, I was invited. Like if he couldn’t stop the things happening at home, he’d do his damnedest to keep me away from there as much as possible.”

A raw, grated sort of laugh leaves him, and he shakes his head, the back of it rolling against my shoulder. “That’s what I mean when I say he became a crutch; it was easy to accept the support, ‘cause I’d never had someone do anything like that before. And it wasn’t long before his whole family became mine. My chosen family, anyway. With them, it was the first time I’d ever truly felt wanted or loved or like I was worth something. Like I was safe.”

The calloused, unfeeling heart in my chest cracks a little at that.

Maybe because this tale he’s told me sounds eerily similar to one I’ve lived myself. With Quinton. The way my family took kindly to him being around all the time as kids, and would welcome him with open arms whenever they could.

And take out the alcohol and the physical violence, and Kason’s parents aren’t all that different from the ones Q has.

Abusive…and absent.

Two options where I’m not sure which is worse.

Wetting my lips, I murmur the only thing I can think to say. “Because you were finally being treated the way you deserved all along.”

Thirteen

Hayes

October

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