Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
My heart aches for him, and I’m relieved at the same time. I know exactly what a bad foster home is like, and living at the children’s home is no walk in the park, but it beats some of the alternatives that foster kids are faced with. “That’s incredible, Foster. That they were there for you.” What I don’t say is we both know his life might be very different if they hadn’t.
“Yeah.” He nods. “They were good to me. They gave me my first real look at what a family should act like.”
“Are you still close with them?” I ask, forking off a hefty bite of cinnamon roll and shoveling it into my mouth.
“Yeah, I mean, I send them tickets to a few games a year, and we get together when we can.”
“But?” There is so much in our backgrounds that's similar, and I know he’s not telling me everything. Not that he has to. But if he wants to open up, I’m here to listen. Maybe I should tell him that. Reaching over, I place my hand on his arm. His muscles ripple beneath my touch. “No pressure, but if anyone knows what your life was like back then, it’s me. I’m here to listen anytime, and I’m a vault, Foster. You can trust me.”
He nods. “But I should do more. I know that. But to Coach and Hope, I’m the teenage boy with no family. I don’t need them to hang around because they pity me.”
“I understand what you’re saying, but a wise man once told me that family is what you make it.”
“My friends are my family, but I’ve never told them how I grew up. They don’t know me. Not like that, anyway. I was drafted to the Rampage and left it all in the past. They know I don’t have parents and that I’m close to my high school coach, but that’s it.”
“You’re keeping your past hidden from them.”
“I don’t want their pity.”
I nod, wiping my mouth before taking a sip of coffee. “I understand that. The feeling of being looked at differently, like the only reason they’re talking to you and befriending you is that they either want to make fun of you, or they feel sorry for you.”
“That.” He nods, taking the first bite of his breakfast. “I wanted them to look at me for me, the new guy on the team, the rookie. Not the rookie with no family.”
“I get that. I do. But Foster, you can’t hide from your past. It’s a part of the man you are today. Anyone worth being in your life knows that and will accept you regardless. My best friend, Carrie, I met her on my eighteenth birthday. I was sitting in a diner at the counter with a single cupcake in front of me. She was my waitress. She noticed I was sad and lonely, and she struck up a conversation, then invited me out for a movie she’d been dying to see.” I smile, thinking about the day we met. “Turns out it was a movie she heard another customer talking about. She didn’t want to see it, and we hated it. We left and ended up driving around listening to music the rest of the night. From that night on, she was my person. I told her all about my past, and she told me about her high school boyfriend, that she one day hoped she’d spend the rest of her life with.” I smile because my bestie got her wish.
“Did she?” he asks.
“Yeah, she did. Carrie and Nick were married two years later. They have two adorable little girls.”
“Aunt Eden.” Foster smiles at me, and I eagerly return it.
“You know it,” I say, leaning my shoulder into his. “You should tell them, Foster.”
“They’re my family. One that was built on friendship and respect.”
“Then let them in. Really let them in. I know it’s hard. I know that fear of rejection is there, and it stays there, but give them a chance to prove you wrong.”
“Maybe,” he says, not committing to opening up to his friends.
“You should call your coach and his wife, too. Invite them over when it’s not football or holiday related.”
“Not really a fan of putting myself out there,” he admits.
“You did it with your teammates and their wives.”
“Yeah, but that’s different.”
“It’s not. You’re still you, Foster Vaughn. You’re the same man. You’re just hiding a small piece of yourself.”
“Rejection.” He pauses and takes a sip of his coffee. “I’ve seen a lot of it. Foster families, families from the children’s home, my ex.” He clamps his mouth shut.
I’m sure he didn’t mean for that to slip out. “Foster families… So many do it for the wrong reasons, but in the end, you had two strong parental figures who guided you. They loved you, and with that guidance and love, you put in the work, and look at where you are today.”