The Wild One (Forever Wild #3) by Magan Vernon Page A

the couch to greet me at the door.
    If he was on the couch , that meant it wasn’t Paige who was crying. It was Valerie. My heart sunk at the sound of those sobs and then my fists tightened, wanting to hurt whoever made the girl cry.
    I turned and saw the open refrigerator door and I quickly made my way over to it, yanking it open farther. She gasped and turned around, staring at me wide-eyed with a giant, half-eaten stick of butter in her hand.
    I swallowed hard, sta ring at her in silence. Anyone else would have laughed. To me it brought me back to a place I didn’t want to be.
     
    “What the fuck do you think your lard ass is doing?” Daddy looked at me with his eyes of steel, a beer in one hand and a cattle prod in the other.
    I knew I shouldn’t have been eating the butter out of the fridge, but he took away all the other food. He said that there was no way I was going to be in shape for junior high football if I ke pt eating like Meemaw and Mama. But I was so hungry and I didn’t think I’d get caught.
    “N-n-n-othing, D addy, I w-w-w-as just ...”
    Five million volts of electricity zapped through my skin and my arm jerked back into the fridge, causing the butter to go flying and a searing pain to shoot up my arm as Daddy smacked me with the cattle prod.
    I wanted to cry, but I knew if I did then Daddy would say I was soft and shock me again. So instead I just stared at him, ready for his next instructions.
    “This here is to make sure your ass gets up to speed for football. Your tubby ass isn’t going to be making first string quarterback unless you drop that baby fat and run.” He took a swig of his beer and tossed the empty can in a nearby trashcan.
    “But, Daddy, I’ve been working real hard in practice and with two a days I think I can—”
    He cut me off with another shock. This one was longer and right on my hip. My whole body went into convulsions and I flopped on the linoleum like a fish. I stayed on the ground, unwilling to move. Not knowing if I even could.
    “Did I ask you to talk, boy?”
    “N-n-no, sir.”
    Daddy nodded before getting down in my face. His breath reeked of beer and crawfish and I could count every gray hair that stuck out of his nose. “Now you listen here, tubby. You’re not gonna get anywhere if you keep talking like that. You will do as I tell you and stop dicking around. No more of this singing songs with your Meemaw and that other queer shit, got it?”
    I choked back the sobs and whispered, “yes sir.” 
     
     
    She sniffled and wiped the stray tears from her cheeks. She then put the butter back in the fridge before closing it. “I’m fine.”
    I cupped her face in my hands, forcing her eyes to meet mine. What I liked about Valerie was how confident she always seemed. Even when she had her moments of vulnerability, the girl always carried herself like she was the best there was and I admired her for it. I hated to see her cry. “No, you’re not fine. Now, are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”
    “It’s not a big deal, I’m just being a girl about a stupid situation that h appens all the time with stupid-ass clients in the city. I need to learn to just get over it and stop eating butter when I’ve had a bad day.”
    I slid my hands from her cheeks down her arms until I interlaced our fingers. “How about we get ice cream instead? They’re both dairy and I’m sure it’s gonna be a helluva lot better on your bowels than butter.”
    She sighed and dropped my hands , walking over to the couch before plopping down on it. “No, ice cream is the last thing I need right now.”
    “Why? Were you crying because someone with an ice cream truck ran over your mouth so you had to get butter to ice it?” I asked and took the seat next to her.
    She smiled, bringing out the dimples in her cheeks. “No, and that’s a really weird thing to say.”
    “Yeah, but I knew it would make you smile.”
    "I need to stop getting worked up over these dickwad gym owners.