Page 68 of Sure Shot
And now I’m in a piss-poor mood again.Thanks, kid.
Castro shrugs. “I don’t begrudge you the pain. I’ve known loss, and it isn’t pretty. But please don’t make it Bess’s problem. I’m very protective of her. We all are.”
“Because she’s your teammate’s sister.” That’s why I’m getting the extended remix version of this speech.
“It’s more than that. She’s been through a lot.”
“Uh-huh,” I agree, even if I don’t know exactly what he’s referring to. “Dave is her only family, right?”
“Maybe.” He scratches his chin. “Their dad might still be alive somewhere. But he wouldn’t dare enter a room if Dave is around. Or me, for that matter. Bess used to be his punching bag. Even when she was only yay high.” He holds his hand down by the floor.
I do a poor job of keeping the surprise off my face, because Bess never mentioned her father to me. “She grew up with her grandparents.”
“Eventually,” he corrects me. “Not until Dave was fourteen. He realized he couldn’t always be there to step in front of his father’s fist. And he was sick of watching his little sister get bruised. And burned, too. There’s a scar on her arm.” He touches the inside of his elbow. “Cigarette burn. That’s one of the ways her dad kept her in line.”
Something goes wrong in my stomach. I know that scar. I’ve kissed that scar. But I never asked Bess where it came from.
“Eventually, Dave landed on a strategy—he breaks his own face with a wrench.” Castro taps his cheek. “Two bones. Just so someone would report their dad to social services.”
I honestly might vomit if he says anything more. I’ve spent the last couple of months whining about my trade, and my divorce. Then turning to Bess to cheer my sorry ass up. Meanwhile, she’s cheerfully putting up with my bullshit after barely surviving childhood? I kind of want to punch myself right now.
“Anyway…” Castro shrugs as he pulls on his socks. “Bess has already had her fair share of difficulty. If you bring her any more, I will end you. And so will Dave.”
“Yeah,” I grit out. “Message received.”
But he’s not even done. “Dave had it worse, I guess. Their mom died of a drug overdose when Bess was still little. Dave found their mom on the living room floor after he got home from kindergarten. Bess was screaming her head off in her crib for hours.”
I’m all out of words. I just stare at him, trying to picture Dave Beringer at five, standing next to his mother’s dead body.
Castro stands up and zips his jeans. “I said my piece. Just don’t let her down. She deserves the world.”
“I know.” Of course she does. And I’m suddenly craving her so bad. I wonder how many hours are left in this day before I can sneak off to my hotel room and call her, just to hear her voice. She’s on her way to Vermont, though. She said the phone service is spotty up there. So we might not connect.
But I hope we do. Missing Bess on the road is a familiar feeling. Back when I was twenty-three and watching my teammates hook up, I’d been so lonely for her.
I never told her, though. I still haven’t.
Castro leaves, and I stay there for a while, sitting on the fancy spa bench. It’s dawning on me that Bess must not have wanted me to know about her childhood. It’s the only explanation for why she’s never said a word about it.
And I don’t know what to do with this realization. Was it pride that kept her from telling me? Or did she think I wouldn’t care? The truth is that I’ve never given her the chance to confide in me. We were so young the first time we met. I remember wanting to impress her. I was trying to impress the whole world.
It worked, I guess. We impressed the hell out of each other on a regular basis. But I’m not that kid anymore. I’ve figured out that impressing people only goes so far. Now I need more.
I’ve seen that scar on Bess’s arm so many times. Yet I never asked how she got it. Maybe I didn’t want to ruin the fun. But now we’re past that, aren’t we? Bess means a lot to me. If she’ll talk to me about her past, I’m ready to listen.
I told Bess that being together didn’t have to be a “life-changing thing.” But somehow it already is.
Can a jaded divorcé fall in love again? Maybe this one already did.
Twenty-Three
That’s Not an Ax
Bess
“And then Cinderellaaccidentally turned into a mouse. The end.”
My niece looks up at me with her little pink mouth open in surprise. “No, Aunt Best! Read it for real.”
