Quarterback's Secret Baby(33)

Ray's voice cracked on that last word - family - and I couldn't hold it together any longer. What had been a few furtive tears turned into a little sob and I got up from my chair and went to my brother so we could wrap our arms around each other.

"I mean it," he whispered in my ear. "We got you, Tash. We got you."

After Ray I went around the table, hugging everyone, thanking them for their love and patience. By the time we left the restaurant it was almost nine o'clock. It hit me while we were walking to the car.

"Oh my God." I said out loud.

Alisha, who was walking next to me with her arm around my shoulders, looked at me.

"What, Tash?"

I turned to her, slightly disbelieving. But no, it was true. "I haven't thought about Kaden once since we got here."

She squeezed me a little tighter and grinned. "Yeah. That's how it happens. Every day you just think about it less and less - some days are good, some days are bad, but eventually you hardly think about it at all."

For the first time since I'd seen my boyfriend kissing Kelsey at our high school prom, it occurred to me that I might, actually, manage to get over it.





Chapter 14: Kaden


I got hammered at prom. Properly, stupidly hammered. Hammered enough that Kelsey Richards thought she could just stick her tongue in my mouth and get me to bend her over the nearest desk. I suppose I couldn't really blame her, the tactic had mostly been successful for her in the past.

But after she grabbed me - and after I, in my drunken state, just assumed that it was Tasha before bothering to check - and then after I realized what had happened, I was overcome by an almost overwhelming feeling of revulsion. Not just at the smell of her overpriced perfume or the taste of her cigarette smoke-tinged kisses, but at everything going on around me. All the stupid, drunk football players who knew they didn't have to be anything other than football players and everyone was going to worship them. They didn't have to be smart or funny or interesting or anything except football players. Steve Carlson was obviously looking for a fight, too - or to get into Kelsey's pants - so I was done. Maybe it was the alcohol heightening my emotions but I felt more done than I ever had before with that crowd. It didn't enter my conscious mind at the time but Tasha was the reason. She was simply a better person than all of them. She was brave and sweet and sharp as a tack and spending time with her meant I would never again be able to hang out with simpering cheerleaders and buffoonish sports jocks (even if I was one) without feeling a sense of what I was missing.

So I blundered out into the hallway with one aim in mind: finding Natasha Greeley and spending the rest of the one and only prom night of our lives with her. Unfortunately, I'd had so much to drink that the rest of the night is, at best, a blur. I vaguely remember looking for her in the gym and coming up empty. Even her friends weren't there. Had she left without me?

The sun was up by the time I could string two thoughts together again. I pushed myself up on my elbows and looked around to try and figure out where the hell I was. I was on a couch. But I wasn't at home. I wasn't at Tasha's place, either. My throat was dry. As my consciousness swam through the fog of alcohol from the previous night it struck me that I was very, very thirsty and I got up and went looking for a kitchen to get a glass of water.

Aaron Sokolsky was in the kitchen and without looking up from the scrambled eggs he was making he simply passed me an orange juice container that was sitting out on the counter.

"Drink this, man. You need it."

"Mmph," I said, opening the carton and pouring the sweet liquid down my throat. When that wasn't enough he handed me a glass, which I immediately filled with cold water and drank in its entirety. Then I sat down in one of the chairs at the kitchen table and ran my hands through my hair. Was that - was that pieces of grass falling down onto my t-shirt?

"What the fuck happened, man?" I asked, expecting the usual 'we got wasted and we ended up here' tale. Which was pretty much what Sokolsky said. He told me I'd almost gotten into it with Steve Carlson and the memory of Kelsey Richards came back to me.

"Shit. That girl just doesn't know how to take no for an answer," I commented, watching Aaron as he stirred the eggs around in a frying pan.

"Maybe," he replied, opening the fridge and grabbing a green pepper.

"Maybe?" I asked, laughing because I assumed he was joking. "I told her a hundred times. Hell, I even sat her down and had a nice respectful little chat with her about it."

"Did you?" Aaron asked, looking surprised.

"Yeah, I did. Never done that before. And she still thinks she can come rub herself all over me any damn time she pleases."