Page 85 of Overtime Goal
“Nowyou’rethinking,” I said. “I can hear your brain rattling.”
He gave me the exact look I’d used on him. “My brain rattles?”
“Less than it used to. You’ll eventually get it down to a hum.”
“Fucker.” He jabbed me with his elbow, and we laughed. When we quieted, he said, “I need to tell you something.”
My brain went wild with a hundred thoughts at once, but I managed to keep myself calm. “Go for it, whatever it is. I’m listening.”
He took a breath, and his posture stiffened as if he were bracing himself. “I know. That’s why I can finally talk about it.”
Something in his voice made the back of my neck prickle. I held my breath and squeezed his hand.
“You know some about how I grew up,” he said.
“A little. Mostly from what you say after your nightmares.” My throat was tight. “You get so upset, I’m not always sure what’s real and what’s the dream.”
He paused, then gave me a little smirk, a classic Riley dodge. “You noticed I haven’t had the nightmares here?”
“I have. One of the many perks of Italy, I guess. Is that what you wanted to tell me?”
“No.” He exhaled again, heavier this time. “I need to give you the full picture of how I grew up. If I don’t, you’ll never really understand me.”
I lifted his hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. His eyes were dark, and I waited until he was ready to go on.
“My folks weren’t good parents,” he finally said. “They weren’t good people at all. You know my dad beat me, but what I haven’t told you is that my mom was every bit as bad, if not worse. She let him do it. Hell, sometimes she told him to.”
My stomach clenched, and he kept going. “With Dad, it was always physical, but she used words. She gave me emotional beatings every day, sometimes all day. One of her favorite things to say was, ‘I never wanted a baby to start with, and you’re even worse than I thought you’d be. You’re a curse.’”
The words hit me like a punch to the chest. “Jesus Christ.” It came out louder than I meant and made me wince. I let his hand go and reached for his face, cupping his cheeks with shaking fingers. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. I’m just… fuck, Ade.”
He leaned into my touch, eerily calm. “It’s okay. I’d be upset if you told me that about you.”
“You shouldn’t have had to deal with it,” I whispered. “Physical or emotional abuse. You didn’t deserve it.”
He gave me a small smile, but it didn’t touch his eyes. “You’re right, I didn’t. It fucked me up. I never knew what would set them off. I think they were always mad about something else, and I was a convenient target.” He looked away, and when he continued, his voice was rough. “Dad would take off his belt and beat me so hard I couldn’t sit right for days. Bruises, cuts… I hated going into the locker room. I was ashamed, but at least nobody said anything.”
“Not even your coaches?”
“I don’t think they ever saw. They weren’t around when we changed, and none of them came into the showers.”
I opened my mouth, then caught myself before asking why he hadn’t told someone and asked for help. Holy Jesus, who was I? That would have been a terrible form of victim blaming, so I took a breath and said, “You’re even stronger than I thought you were. Much stronger.”
He looked down, and I barely heard him say, “Thank God I had hockey. It was something I could lose myself in, and since I was good at it, I kept going. My folks encouraged me, but they never came to games. They were just glad it got me out of the house.”
I shifted closer and draped an arm over him, but it wasn’t enough. My insides ached, and I would’ve killed for the chance to go back in time and protect him.
“How’d you get to practice?” I asked. “Or camps? My mom always said she had to quit her job to be my full-time chauffeur.”
“They drove me when they had to.” He snuggled so close there was no space between us. “I usually depended on my friends’ parents. I was valuable to the team, so everyone wanted me there. And some of them knew. Not everything, but I think they sensed something wasn’t right. They helped how they could, and I got invited to a lot of sleepovers. When I was older, if things were terrible at home, I’d make up an excuse to stay with someone for a few days.”
“Your folks didn’t mind?”
He gave a bitter laugh with no humor in it at all. “Have you been listening? They were thrilled to have me out of the house.”
“I’m listening. Trying to wrap my head around it. I love you so much, and this is terrible to hear.”
His voice almost sounded frightened. “Do you want me to stop?”
