The Road To Heaven (Allendale Four 3)

“God, I hate those guys. They’re everywhere. Like ants.” He laughed darkly. “The love of soccer is growing in the US and everyone wants a piece of it. They’re looking for the next David Beckham or Ronaldo. Someone to put on a pedestal—to be the face. Apparently, I’m the chosen one.”

I smiled. “I’m not really surprised. You do have the face of a god.”

“Shut it.” He shoved his hands in his hoodie pocket. “It’s been nice to have someone to go through it with me. I’ve never been one for the spotlight—well, at least off the field.”

That was a jab. A small one but a jab all the same. Did I deserve it? Maybe. I sucked up whatever emotions I had and said, “I’m glad you’ve had some support during all of this. I know it’s been a big change.”

He gave me a sideways look. “It can be lonely. I miss you guys.”

“I missed you all, too.” I checked the time. “We should probably go. Oliver will send out a search team if he gets back and you aren’t there.”

He inhaled, like a man dying for air and then stood, wobbling on one foot while he got his balance. We were almost at the car when I asked, “How’s the art going?”

His lips formed a thin line and he held onto the top of the car. “I’m not drawing much anymore.”

“No? Not enough time?” Hayden always had his sketch book in his bag or back pocket. Always.

His eyes darted back to the water, the mom and her kid. Just before he ducked into the car he said, “I just haven’t been inspired.”

I took the crutches from him, shaken by his statement. Hayden’s a man doing what he loves, with a beautiful woman at his side. How could he not be inspired?

25

Hayden

At some point, Oliver’s father retired and he and his wife moved south, seeking golf courses and warm weather. Oliver moved into the main house and offered Jackson a room, which left the back apartment empty and ready for my return.

The stairs were a bit of a hassle with my crutches, but I quickly worked out a system that allowed me a bit of exercise and stability so I didn’t fall and crack open my head.

The irony was that due to my injuries, the guys came to me and soon we were all hanging out in that little apartment, like it was high school all over again. There were only two things—people—missing. Anderson and Heaven.

Currently, Jackson and Oliver played their nine-millionth round of Fortnite while I laid on the couch, leg propped up and iced to reduce the swelling. I had a battered sketch book in my lap, pencil on top, unopened. I carried it with me everywhere…out of habit mostly, but Heaven’s question earlier in the day prodded me to get it out for the first time in ages. Her question, and as much as I didn’t want to admit it, her presence.

“Dude, are you fucking kidding me?” Jackson muttered as a round of explosions went off on the screen. I glanced up and saw that his man was surrounded by aliens and Oliver’s was far ahead, leaving him behind. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Playing how I want to,” he replied through gritted teeth. There was something definitely off about the move, and Oliver made no attempt to correct, leaving Jackson behind. A string of curses flew from Jax’s mouth, all directed at Oliver. I watched in silence as rage built between the two. It wasn’t until Oliver stood up and threw his controller across the room, shattering it into a pile of plastic and wires, and Jackson rushed across the room that I realized this had reached a new level.

“I knew you were a selfish asshole,” Oliver shouted as his friend raced toward him, “but this is a new low, even for you.”

“Hey!” I shouted, unable to move to my feet with any sort of speed. Oliver caught Jackson in his arms and body-slammed him on the ground.

“You would have done the same fucking thing,” Jackson replied. Oliver was bigger but Jackson faster and just as I was getting off the couch he landed a punch to the underside of Oliver’s jaw.

“Shit! Stop! What the fuck!” I yelled, taking two steps around the coffee table and then dropping to my knees. I winced at the pain in my ribs and crawled over to them. I looked and felt ridiculous, but my best friends were pummeling the crap out of one another. Someone had to stop it.

Another fist landed, this time against Jackson’s check. I managed to grab Oliver by the crook of the elbow. He looked back at me, fire and rage in his eyes, and I thought for a minute he was going to attack me, but recognition set in and he paused.

“Stop it,” I said again and thankfully they both relented. Fist fights between us were rare but not unheard of. Only one thing caused them.

Heaven.

I shifted my attention to Jackson, who was on his back, breathing heavy, his cheek red from the strike. His eyes darted between us. “I had to take a chance. I had to. Someone had to before we lose her for good.”

“Take a chance with what?” I asked slowly.

Oliver pushed off the ground and stood up, turning his back to us. “Tell him.”

A touch of fear clouded Jackson’s eyes, and he sat up on his elbows. “Heaven and I had sex last night. I thought it was about us reconnecting—turns out, she’s looking for closure.”