Under the Lights

More importantly, there was no Willa here. I should have fought harder. She’d been the one to tell me she loved me. I hadn’t said the words back to her. Because I hadn’t been able to. Saying those words sounded like a promise, and I wasn’t good at keeping promises. I was a Lawton, after all. Blood or not, the other men that I knew that had the same last name didn’t have a moral bone in their body. Why would I be different?

If I had been able to say those words, would she have opened that door Saturday? Would she have gone against the rules for me then? Had I even fucking thought about that?

No.

Growling in frustration, I pounded my fists on the bed. This wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted to be . . . hell, I wanted to be a Brady Higgens or a West Ashby. A guy who Willa could trust and love without fear. A guy who could tell her he loved her back like she deserved. Why did I have to be so goddamn messed up?

Willa was the best thing that ever happened to me. When I was a little boy and now. Both times she walked into my life and gave me a reason to smile. A reason to hope for more. Running away was throwing that away. I knew there would never be another Willa. Never another chance for the way she made me feel.

But going back meant facing the demons in my house. Conquering them and learning how to live with the changes. Convincing myself I wasn’t that little boy anymore who they could mistreat was tough. I still saw them as being powerful and in control.

Sitting up, I reached for my phone and dialed the only number I could right now.

It rang twice before he answered. “Hello.” Brady’s voice was comforting. Simply because it was a part of home. A part of Lawton. A place I thought I hated, yet my chest warmed at the idea of it. My parents weren’t the town.

The town was Brady and his family, West and his mom, Asa and his family, Nash and Ryker. It was all those people I’d grown up around, and it was Ms. Ames . . . and Willa.

“It’s Gunner,” I said.

“Where are you, man? Coach about shit when you missed yesterday. I went by your house and no one answered. Even went by Willa’s and nothing there, too. She’s not at school either.”

“Willa is fine. She’s being homeschooled. I’m coming back. I thought I wanted to run, but I’m coming back. I need your help with something though.”

He paused. “You ran? Like in away from home?”

Figures Brady was going to get hung up on all the details. I needed him to focus on what I was going to ask him. Not the play-by-play of my taking off.

“Yeah, shit got bad at home, so I just left—”

“Where are you?” He cut me off, sounding panicked now.

I smiled. I was missed. Brady missed me. I hadn’t given credit to Brady for caring when he’d tried to show me more than once he was there if I needed him. I’d just felt safe with Willa. Knowing he cared . . . that felt good. “I’m about five hundred miles away, but I’m coming home. Now would you listen to me and do something for me?”

“When did you leave? Jesus, Gunner, I tried to be a friend and listen to you on Saturday. You sent me packing. If you needed to talk, I was available. You didn’t have to take off.”

If Mr. Do-Gooder didn’t shut the hell up and listen to me, I was going to lose my shit. “Brady, could you focus please?”

“I’m focused. What do you want? I’m going to need a good excuse for why you aren’t at practice again. We need you on the field Friday night. Coach won’t let you play if you don’t have a good excuse.”

A good excuse was the last thing on my mind. “Tell Willa to tell Ms. Ames everything. Explain it all. And that I’m coming home.”

I almost added to tell her that I loved her, but I wanted to say those words myself. To her. It was for both of us. A part of my moving on and letting go of the bitterness that controlled me.

“Okay . . .” he replied slowly, then added, “Is this gonna get her in trouble? Because she’s on probation. She can’t get in trouble. Or is she already? Why is she homeschooled?”

“All this can be answered later. Just do it. Please.”

“I’ll try. Now come home.”

Gunner Didn’t Even Have That

CHAPTER 50

WILLA

A knock on the door broke into my studies, and I was grateful. I’d been sitting here for over four hours. This was boring. But it wasn’t Catholic school.

I got up, went to the kitchen, and peeked through the window first. My mother’s silver BMW was parked outside. I paused, unsure that was who I was seeing. Why would my mother be here . . . in her car?

Dropping the curtain back into place, I walked to the door slowly, trying my hardest not to panic. She had no reason to be here unannounced. I glanced at the phone and thought about calling Nonna. I wanted her here.

My mother knocked again. I had nothing to be scared of. This wasn’t my mother’s house. She couldn’t throw me out of here. If anything, she’d get thrown out.

Unlocking the door, I turned the brass knob with a sick knot in my stomach. I pulled it open and tried to breathe normally, but it was hard. I hadn’t seen her since the day she kicked me out. I hadn’t spoken to her either.

“Hello, Mom,” I said simply.

“Willa. Is Mother here?” was her businesslike response.

“She’s at the big house.” I almost offered to call her but decided that my mother could do that herself.

“Can I come in?” she asked, and I really wanted to say No, you can’t. Leave.

But I stepped back so she could walk inside. Mother looked around the kitchen as if expecting to find something. “It’s the same. She never changes anything,” Mom said, almost annoyed with that. I loved that Nonna’s never changed. It was safe and familiar.