11. Chapter 11

After a quick stop at the house to change, Q and I are back in the car heading to my high school for the tribute. Our stop at the house was quick. We only had twenty minutes to freshen up and change into warmer clothes before we needed to head to the stadium. Nights in Chicago are a lot cooler than nights in Texas.

Friday nights in the fall are liable to get very cold, and after checking my weather app, I see that tonight won't be an exception as temperatures drop into the fifties. As much as I'd love to wear a pair of leggings, a hoodie, and sneakers, I don't want to deal with the disappointment of my parents right off the rip. So I choose to dress up, opting for a pair of black jeans, black booties, and gray sweater, topped with my camel trench coat. Warm, cute, and not overdressed for a high school football game. I'm seriously so jealous of Quinton since he can wear more casual clothes—black ripped jeans, a black hoodie, sneakers, and his olive utility jacket with a flat bill on. Q's hoping to go unnoticed, but I don't have the heart to tell him that there's no way he's going unrecognized. He's too damn attractive to fly under the radar.

Our driver pulls into the parking lot of Lincoln High, and everything comes rushing back. The memories are flooding my head. Oh god, the memories.

My breath becomes rapid. I can't seem to get enough oxygen.

Is the car spinning?

An elephant is sitting on my chest. Air can't get into my lungs, and I'm about two seconds away from a full-blown panic attack.

Why did I think I could do this? I could barely bring myself to come to Lincoln to finish out my last two years of high school. I begged my parents every day to let me transfer, to take online classes, anything to prevent me from coming back to this place.

Oh god, I can't do this.

Just as I'm about to tell the driver to pull away, I feel him. He's wrapping his muscled arms around me, pulling me against his chest. His hands are rubbing circles against my back.

"Brynn," he says, continuing to rub circles. "Brynn, look at me."

I feel Quinton lift his hand and drag it from my back, gently resting it under my chin. With slow movements, he raises my head.

Slowly, slowly, I bring my eyes to him. I must look like a maniac. But I can feel myself starting to calm down. I look into Quinton's eyes. His rich, brown eyes remind me of a steamy mug of black coffee, my favorite way to start my day. Q's eye contact soothes me, just like my morning coffee soothes my soul at the start of my day.

"Brynn, you're not alone. I'm gonna be right by your side."

My rapidly rising chest begins to slow as my breathing returns to normal. Before my mind has a chance to catch up, I throw my arms around Quinton's neck, pulling his body flush against mine.

"Thank you," I say with my face smashed into his neck. "You're always there to bring me back."

"And I always will be."

He reaches up and lightly grips the back of my head, pulling it away from his shoulder. Pressing his lips to my forehead, he smiles down at me. Smiling back, I pull myself from my best friend and reach inside my purse, pulling out a cannabis pen.

With a small chuckle, Quinton shakes his head before asking, "When the hell did you have time to get that?"

Bringing the pen to my lips, I smile before taking a long drag. "Nadia, our housekeeper," I answered on an exhale.

The driver of the car just eyes me through the rearview mirror.

Taking another long inhale, I continue. "Nadia has been getting me weed since high school. She's got a hook-up for the good shit. She used to supply Bryce and me with weed and alcohol for parties."

Letting out a large cloud of smoke, I smile at the memories. "She was always so protective of us. Nadia came from a wild background. She knows how high schoolers can be, especially ones with unlimited funds. She said that, if we were going to smoke or drink, she would supply us with it so she would have peace of mind that we weren't smoking laced shit. Our parents might not have given a shit about us, but our staff always did. Hell, our staff was our family. Before we left tonight, she tossed it to me, knowing that I would need all the vices I could get to get through this weekend."

Quinton just shakes his head with a smirk. "Damn, B, I wish I would've known you in high school."

"You wouldn't have liked me." Giving him a wink, I fling open the door, and dump the pen in my purse. "Let's get this show on the road."

The two of us fall in line behind all of the fans making their way to the entrance gates. Lincoln High is a large, private school with only around one thousand students. The school is a large brick building that was remodeled in the 1990s. The three parking lots merge into one long walkway centered between flower beds with arborvitae trees that leads to the football field. Tonight must be a big game. There's a buzz in the air, and the students are excited. You can feel the electricity.

Making our way through the gates, not having to pay since we are honorary guests for the tribute ceremony—ugh, I hate saying that—I see that the athletic director is waiting for us. He greets us at the entrance, guiding us up the stands to the closed suites. Lincoln isn't a college, yet they still try to be with their exclusive VIP suites.

Before we enter, I slow my pace and reach my hand back behind me, searching for my anchor. Quinton takes the hint, grabbing my hand. I feel the gentle, yet reassuring, squeeze.

He sidles up behind me, whispering in my ear, "I'll always bring you back."

I smile to myself before coming to a complete stop right inside the suite. The first person I make eye contact with makes me suck in my breath. Asher's mom is the first person I see. He was my high school boyfriend, until he wasn't. I haven't seen his parents since I moved to Texas. It feels like minutes pass by as we stare at each other, when it's only been seconds. She moves first, closing the gap between us.

"Brinley," she gasps, pulling me into a hug.

Quinton slips his hand from mine as I wrap my arms around my second mom and the only woman who ever felt like my actual mom.

"Hi, Mrs. Nelson."

She scoffs, pulling me back. She looks me up and down, appraising me.

"Oh honey, when have you ever called me Mrs. Nelson?"

She smiles, taking me in, almost like she can't believe I'm standing before her. With her eyes locked on mine, I swear that woman can read me like a book. She can tell my head is in the clouds at the moment. Grace gives me a small smile, one that doesn't meet her eyes, before patting my cheek.

"It's so good to see you, my sweet girl."

"You too, Mama Grace," I respond, pulling her in for another hug.

Once upon a time, I thought she was going to be my mother-in-law. But a week after Bryce died, my boyfriend died too, and everything I ever dreamed about shattered to pieces. Selfishly, I cut the two people who could have saved me out of my life. But it hurt too much to be around Daniel and Grace Nelson. Asher's parents reminded me too much of him, too much of our memories, and too much of the future that would never happen.

Grace looks past me, taking in the handsome man towering behind me.

"Pardon me," she says, looking between Quinton and me. "Who do we have here?"

Smiling, I introduce the two. "Grace, this is my friend, Quinton Boyd. Q, this is Grace Nelson, Asher's mom."

And it's at this moment, I realize that I've made a huge mistake. I've never never mentioned Asher to Quinton.

Shit.

"Hello, ma'am. It's nice to meet you," Quinton says, reaching out to shake Grace's hand.

He looks over Grace's shoulder, his eyes finding mine. Oh, I can read the questions written in his eyes, but Quinton plays along, not voicing anything.

A throat clears behind me, sending chills down my body. Goose bumps spread across my skin and my bones instantly chill. I would be able to recognize that throat clearing in the middle of a concert. Spinning on my heels, I turn and face the woman who birthed me. She looks older than the last time I saw her. Small bags puff below the same blue eyes that mirror my own. Wrinkles are prevalent, which shocks me as she's always kept regular Botox appointments.

"Brinley, nice of you to finally show up," Carolyn says in her fake, overly polite voice, but I can pick out the distaste in her voice. The sound makes me cringe.

"Carolyn," I mutter.

"Be nice," Grace whispers under her breath.

Before we have a chance to continue our conversation, an assistant to the athletic director approaches us, announcing the ceremony is starting and we are needed on the field. Daniel and Grace Nelson follow the assistant with my parents right behind them, but I can't bring myself to follow. I can't get my feet to work. I'm frozen. Quinton steps into my view, placing his hands on each side of my face, forcing my glazed gaze up to him.

"Quinton, I can't do it."

"Wilder, you can get through this. You know why?"

"Why?"

"Because you're one of the strongest girls I know," he says with a wink. "And because I'll be waiting for you on the other side of the fence."

My hands reach up, and I grip his jacket, pulling him into me as I wrap my arms around his middle. Without hesitating, he embraces me in his big, comforting hugs. He leads me down the stairs, catching up to the others. Before I follow everyone onto the field, Q spins me around, pulls me in for one more hug, and kisses the top of my head. My body warms at the affection. Not even the crisp, fall air can cool me down.

"Good evening, everyone, and thank you for coming out to support our Lincoln High Riders," the Athletic Director announces into the microphone. "Before we kick off, tonight we are going to be paying tribute to two amazing souls who lost their lives all too soon. Five years ago, we lost Bryce Wilder and Asher Nelson, two incredible young men both on and off the field."

I zone out for a few seconds, seeking out Quinton, letting the athletic director's voice fade away. When I find him in the crowd, he's staring back at me. Our eyes meet, and he mouths, "You've got this."

"Looks like you've found yourself a good one," Grace whispers in my ear.

I look up to find her watching the two of us. Guilt instantly swims in my stomach.

"It's not like that, Grace. Quinton is just a really good friend."

She lightly squeezes my forearm and gives me a motherly look that tells me she doesn't believe what I'm saying. And after everything today, I'm starting to doubt myself too.

"Tonight we unveil a new victory bell with the quote ‘Set your heart on victory.' The new bell will be featured at the top of the hill next to the entrance, where, underneath, we will have a plaque with Asher's and Bryce's names and jersey numbers. They may be gone, but we will never forget their spirits and the lives these boys touched," the athletic director states. "And with that, I'd like to introduce Asher's parents Daniel and Grace Nelson, along with Bryce's parents Philip and Carolyn Cabot-Wilder, and Bryce's sister and Asher's girlfriend Brinley Wilder."

The crowd gives a standing ovation, and a tear slips down my cheek at the sight in front of me.

After our introduction, we are handed the plaque that will rest underneath the victory bell. Flashing lights swarm my vision, blinding me momentarily. The photographers click away on their cameras at the broken families in front of them.

"Excuse me," I announce to no one.

My feet start moving of their own will. They're leading me to him, and Quinton is waiting. With outstretched arms, he wraps me in close. Another flash from a camera catches my attention, and I hope that Q's hat keeps his cover discreet.

Not bothering to look toward the field, or at the people staring at us, I allow Quinton to wrap his arm around my shoulder and lead us back to our waiting car. Tonight, I'm hoping Quinton lets everything he's learned over the last hour go. Just for tonight. I need to get a handle on everything before I tell him. Tomorrow I'll tell him all of my secrets. He'll learn my whole story and finally see the damaged Brinley Carolyn Wilder.

Maybe he'll finally understand why I'm so fucked up.