The Vincent Boys Collection Read online

  “You’re right,” my dad’s voice called out after me, and I stopped and squeezed my eyes closed tightly before turning back around to look at him.

  “I wasn’t there. I let him figure it all out on his own. I was afraid of your mother finding out. I was afraid of this town finding out. I didn’t want to lose this life I’d built for myself. You’re wrong about one thing, though. I did check on him. Why do you think you got away with sneaking out to go get him out of jams or going to stay with him when he was alone? Did you think you were just that good at being sneaky? You weren’t. When you left to go to him, I followed you. I watched you both. I watched as you fixed his problems, got him out of messes, and stayed by his side when he was alone. I was always there. I was proud of you for being there for him when I wasn’t. I’m not proud of myself, Sawyer. I’ll live with this regret the rest of my life. Nevertheless, I am proud of Beau. He has turned into the man I always hoped he would be. He’s tougher than you because of the life he lived. He is harder around the edges, but he’s a good boy.” My dad reached down and opened the drawer in his desk that he had always kept locked. He pulled out a large scrapbook and laid it on the desk. “Go ahead, take a look.”

  I walked over and opened the leather binding to see pictures of Beau as a baby. Pictures of the two of us in our football helmets when they were bigger than we were. Each page held memories of Beau’s life. Every article where he’d been mentioned in the paper had been carefully clipped and placed in the pages. After I turned the last page, I saw a picture of Beau in his practice gear, standing on the field at Bryant–Denny stadium last week during practice. Lifting my eyes, I stared at my father and saw a man I didn’t know existed.

  “I went to both your practices last week. You both made me proud.”

  Shaking my head, trying to take this all in, I sank down into the chair behind me. “Why don’t you reach out to him? If you have all this, you have to love him. You have to care about him. Why aren’t you doing something about it? He needs you, too.”

  “He hates me and I don’t blame him,” Dad said, taking the binder and placing it back in the drawer.

  “Hell yeah, he hates you. You’re his father, and he thinks you care nothing for him.”

  “You know Beau. Better than anyone. Do you really think he’d listen to me? That he’d forgive me?”

  “Dad, he doesn’t have to forgive you. He doesn’t have to like you. But he needs to know you love him. That you’re proud of him. All you have to do is tell him. How he handles it or takes it isn’t what’s important. What’s important is that he knows. What’s important is that you tell him.”

  Dad sat down at his desk and neither of us spoke. There was nothing more to say.

  LANA

  My mother was sitting on Aunt Sarah’s couch, drinking tea, when Sawyer and I stepped into the living room.

  “Mom?” My aunt and uncle had welcomed me back and assured me they were just glad I was safe. They didn’t know the details but understood I had a lot going on with my parents.

  “Lana.” My mother smiled at me and then turned her smile to Sawyer. “Hello, Sawyer.”

  “Hello, Ms. McDaniel,” he replied politely.

  “I didn’t know you were coming for a visit,” I said, trying to figure out what was going on.

  “Paperwork came that you needed to sign, and I figured we could go do that shopping for your dorm room,” she explained.

  I hadn’t told Sawyer about Florida vet. I was afraid my mother was being optimistic, and we might not actually be able to make it work. “Oh, um, okay . . . ” I trailed off, trying to think of a way to get Sawyer out of here before Mom said anything else about college.

  “Would it be okay if I came too? Lana did get to help pick out my dorm necessities, so it’s only fair I get to help pick hers out,” Sawyer drawled in an amused voice as he walked over to sit down in my uncle’s recliner.

  “Of course. That would be lovely! Wouldn’t that be lovely, Lana?” my mother asked a little too enthusiastically.

  How was I going to get out of this one?

  “Mom, we need to make sure everything is squared away and okay before we go buying dorm stuff. I mean, there is still a chance this might not work and I’ll need to stay home two years and go to a community college. What if the house doesn’t sell?”

  Sawyer sat up from his relaxed position and leaned forward. “What? Why might this not work? I was under the impression it was a done deal.” He was directing his question to my mother like he knew what the heck he was talking about.

  “Sawyer—” I began, and was cut off by my mom.

  “It is, Sawyer,” she said soothingly. “Lana, the house is sold. I made enough money to pay for all four years of your education and buy myself a nice-size condo on the beach. That way, when you run off and leave me for Florida, I can still be close enough to my sister when I need some company.”

  She said Florida. Would Sawyer think I was chasing him? Smothering him? Cringing, I forced myself to meet his gaze. He grinned, stood up, and walked over to me.

  Both of his hands wrapped around my waist, and he pulled me up against him and bent his head down to whisper in my ear, “Did you really think I would be this excited about college if I thought I’d be leaving my girl behind?”

  “You knew.” I breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Yes, I knew. And if you for one second try and back out of following me to Florida, I will personally kidnap you and haul you there with me,” he teased and then pressed a trail of kisses across my face until his mouth hovered over mine. “I’m not losing you again. You’re with me. I want you there beside me. Always.”

  “Isn’t that sweet.” My mother’s pleased voice reminded both of us that we weren’t alone.

  Squeezing my waist one more time, Sawyer stepped beside me so we were both facing my mother.

  Her smile was so bright and happy. It was rare for my mother to smile. I’d grown up with her scowling so much at my father that it wasn’t something I was used to. I liked it. She wasn’t so unattractive when she smiled. Why couldn’t she have smiled more at me when I was growing up? Maybe our home would have been a happier place. Maybe she did love me after all. She’d sold her house. She loved her house. It was a status symbol for her in Alpharetta. She was giving that up . . . for me.

  “Thank you, Mom. For everything. I can’t believe you sold the house. But I’m very thankful. I promise one day I’ll make it up to you,” I assured her.

  Frowning, she stood up and shook her head. “I’m your mother, Lana. You will not make it up to me. This is my job. Your entire life you’ve been a sweet, kind, loving child who caused me not one whit of trouble. You took whatever your dad and I threw at you and you made it work. It’s your turn, baby girl. It’s about you this time. Not me and my desires or your father and his selfish choices. This time it is all about you.”

  I let go of Sawyer’s hand and closed the distance between my mother and me. I hadn’t hugged her in years. But right now I wanted to hold her tight and let her know that I did love her. Very much. She may have made mistakes while I was growing up and she might not have been perfect, but I loved her. For once in my life I realized she loved me too. She really loved me.

  Her arms held me tightly against her as she patted my head. “You go live that life you always wanted. There’s a big world out there waiting for you and a wonderful future. And a really handsome boy waiting to live it with you.”

  Laughing, I turned my head and looked back at Sawyer. He winked at me and my heart did a little flutter in my chest.

  “All right you two, that’s enough of the mushy stuff. Let’s go shopping before I need to head back home and start packing up,” Mom said, patting my back before letting go of me.

  Sawyer held his hand out for me and I slipped mine into his. “Let’s go shop,” he said with an amused look in his eyes. I was sure his idea of shopping wasn’t anywhere near what shopping with my mother was actually like. He had no idea what he was
in for.

  BEAU

  Sawyer bailed on me this morning—for a girl. I couldn’t help but smile. I was the one who normally bailed on workouts. It was a nice change for it to be him not showing up. I couldn’t imagine why he’d want to go shopping with Lana and her mom. That woman was whack. Not to mention it was shopping. Who goes shopping with their girl? Then again, Ash had never asked me to go shopping with her. If she asked, I’d go.

  Running down the bleachers, I slowed my pace. This had been my hundredth trip up and down. It was time for weights. When I reached the bottom, I wiped my forehead with my towel and took a long swig from the water bottle I’d left on the bottom bleacher.

  “Hello, Beau.” The deep familiar voice behind me wasn’t one I cared for. Putting my water down, I slung my towel over my shoulder and turned around to face Harris Vincent, my “uncle,” my biological father.

  “Sawyer isn’t here,” I replied, and headed down the last few steps and toward the field house.

  “I’m not here to see Sawyer. I’m here to see you,” Harris called out, and I stopped walking. Me? He wanted to talk to me? His dirty little secret? I turned back around.

  “What?” was the only response he was getting out of me. I would stand there and listen to what he had to say for one reason and one reason only—Sawyer.

  “I, uh, I saw your practice last week. You looked good out there.”

  My practice? What the hell was he talking about? I had practices in Tuscaloosa. Surely, he didn’t mean those.

  “I came to watch. You’re gonna do good there.”

  Taking a step toward him so he could hear me without me yelling, I asked, “You came to my practice at Bryant–Denny? Why would you do that?” The man hadn’t even come to the hospital when I’d broken my collarbone in little league. He wasn’t exactly active in my life.

  “I went to see both my sons’ practices last week.”

  I froze. He’d called me his son. I started shaking my head. “No, no, you don’t get to do that. I’m. Not. Your. Son.”

  I had to get away from this man. He was Sawyer’s father; I did not want to hurt him. But damn if he was gonna call me his son.

  “You are my son. I don’t deserve you, but you are mine. You can deny me. You can hate me, and you have every right.”

  “Damn right I do!” I roared.

  “It doesn’t change the fact that I’m proud of the man you’ve become. The man you’ve become without any help from me.”

  I was taking loud hard gasps of air. What was he doing? Why was he doing this?

  “Proud of me? Why? Because I can play some football? Because I’m playing at your alma mater? Because that’s just bullshit.”

  Harris shook his head. “No, not because you’re playing on the same football field I once played on, although that does make me feel a touch of pride. I can’t help it. But this is only a brief moment in your life. The man you turned out to be is what makes me proud. You made bad choices and you got on the wrong path, but you were also strong enough to get off that path and find one that would take you somewhere in life. The world wanted to call you a loser, but you were so much stronger than they realized. You fought back. You grabbed the life you wanted, and you fought for it. Even when the rest of the world didn’t think you’d make anything of yourself. You proved them wrong. That, son, is why I’m proud of you.”

  I wanted to yell from the top of my lungs at the unfairness of this moment. I’d needed this man when I was young and scared. But now? I don’t need him now.

  “A wise man once told me that you don’t have to forgive me. You don’t have to like me. But you need to know I love you, that I’m proud of you. All I needed to do was tell you. How you handle it or take it isn’t what’s important. What’s important is that you know.” He gave me a short nod, and the worry lines and defeated expression as he turned around to walk away made something inside my chest burn. I didn’t understand this, but I didn’t have to. Not right then.

  “Harris,” I called out to his retreating form. He stopped and turned back to look at me.

  “Yes, Beau?”

  I swallowed nervously, unsure how to say it exactly. Because his words didn’t make this better. They didn’t fix the past. “I don’t know what to make of this just yet. I may never know what to make of this.” I paused as a memory came to me of Harris standing at the fence during one of my high school football games as he thoroughly told off my coach after I’d been pulled from a game. I’d missed practice the day before because my mama had gotten sick with the flu and I’d needed to take her to the Urgent Care center in Mobile. It was the closest free health care clinic around.

  I’d been put in the game once the coach walked back to the sidelines. Every time I glanced back at the fence during that game, Harris had been standing there with his arms crossed in front of his chest as if he was standing guard over something or someone.

  “That game, in high school, when I’d missed practice the day before. I was benched. Then, after coach got back from a very heated discussion with you, he put me in the game.” I stopped and studied his face and saw the answer in his expression. “You forced him to put me in, didn’t you?”

  Harris gave me a sad smile. “Wasn’t your fault you had to take your mother to see a doctor. It was an unfair decision on Coach

  * * *

  Madison’s part, and I reminded him exactly how unwise of a decision it would be to leave his best wide receiver on the bench.”

  That didn’t correct all the wrongs. But it did tell me that, at times, even if I didn’t realize it, he had looked out for me. I’d just not known why other instances in my life had looked bad and then were suddenly okay with no explanation. Had it always been him?

  “Coach wasn’t a big fan of mine,” I replied.

  Harris raised one eyebrow. “Well, you weren’t exactly the most dependable guy on the team.”

  I let out a short laugh. “I played just as good hung over as I did sober.”

  The smile on his face wasn’t something I was accustomed to seeing directed my way.

  “You probably did,” he agreed.

  We stood there staring at each other as if we were afraid everything would go back to usual the moment he walked away.

  “Look, son”—he cleared his throat—“or Beau, if that’s what you’d prefer I call you. If you want to go get something to eat sometime, or get a drink, or whatever . . . just call. I’ll be there.”

  He turned and started walking away when I didn’t respond. Before he got too far away, I called out, “You can call me son, if that’s what you want.”

  Epilogue

  Four years later . . .

  SAWYER

  “Come here, beautiful,” I called out as I pulled off my helmet and held my arms open for Lana as she ran onto the field toward me. She was wearing her blue tank top with the Florida gator emblem. I knew the back of it read VINCENT #10. I’d had it made for her before my first game that season. She squealed and jumped up into my arms.

  “You did it! You did it!” She rained kisses all over my face, and I enjoyed every minute of it as I held her up with my hands cupped on her tight little ass.

  “Well, I did have some help,” I teased.

  Laughing, she ran her hands through my sweaty hair and kissed my forehead.

  “I’m all nasty, baby.”

  She leaned back and looked down at me. A smirk appeared on her perfect, plump lips. “Yeah, you are.”

  What about that amused her, I had no idea, but it did. She looked to be on the verge of laughing about something. Then she grabbed my face and pressed those lips against mine, and I didn’t care anymore. I just wanted this. When I had Lana in my arms everything was right with the world.

  “Congrats, bro,” Beau called out, and I opened my eyes as Lana let my mouth go. I slid her back down my body to stand beside me as I turned to see my brother walking toward me in crimson and white. Ashton was beside him in a jersey almost identical to Beau’s.


  “Thanks, man. You played good. That catch you made in the third was unreal. I had to keep myself from hooting on the sidelines.”

  Beau chuckled and shook his head. “I warned them that, although we whipped you guys the last three years, the best quarterback the SEC had ever seen would be starting this year.”

  Ashton let go of Beau to come over and hug Lana. It was our fourth year at the University of Florida. Ash and Lana talked several times a week. Beau and I managed to work out together on breaks when we were both back home. Beau even came to Christmas dinner the last two years. When he called our father “Dad” before leaving to head back to school after that first winter break, I thought our dad was going to break down and weep.

  It hadn’t happened overnight, but slowly Beau and Dad were finding ways to mend what was broken. My mother was opening her heart to Beau as well. Knowing that my dad had stayed out of his son’s life to protect her had made her feel guilty once she was able to finally forgive Dad. I doubted Mom and Aunt Honey ever became shopping buddies, but I knew that it was important to Beau that my mom accept him. She was slowly seeing that and she was taking small steps. Just last semester I’d talked to him on the phone and he was eating cookies that my mother had sent him. She’d been sending them to him over the past year just like she did me. I’d wanted to kiss her sweet face when I’d found out. I loved Beau. He was my brother. From the time we were kids and he was left broken from the death of our uncle that he’d thought was his father, I’d felt the need to protect him. As much as he loved Aunt Honey, she didn’t do things like send cookies to him or make his favorite meal when he came home to visit. But then Ashton’s mom was doing quite a bit of that too. Beau wasn’t so alone in the world anymore. The town of Grove, Alabama, had finally realized that their bad boy wasn’t so bad after all.