5/4/13 AN: To those of you just joining this story, welcome. To re-readers, welcome back. After spending an amazing weekend with MissyDee and discussing my Godawful ADD when it comes to writing, this story came up. I have been stalled because I just wasn't really convinced It could be where it was and be realistic as I had written it. So I'm editing. Chapters 1 and 2 are the same. Again, if you're new, let me know how you feel; re-readers, if you haven't left a review, please do so. I don't own CH's toys... no matter how much I may want to throttle their creator.

EPOV

"Third and nine with the Volunteers on their own thirty-four… Forty-seven seconds left of play and the Clemson Tigers are up by five… Tennessee needs this first down… Northman back in the shotgun… He has time… trying to find an open man downfield… Kahn finds an opening… Northman manages to release the ball before he goes down… Rubio makes the catch on the thirty… he shakes off two tackles before being shoved out-of-bounds at the nineteen… Northman is still down… Coach Livius and the training staff take the field… We'll take a brief time out and return in just a moment to the Discover Orange Bowl…"

That's always where I stop watching. Reaching across my body with my left arm, I run my fingers over the scars from my shoulder surgery. Kahn was a big motherfucker and my arm was still raised and moving when he hit me. My shoulder was dislocated and the cartilage of the joint was torn. The pain was blinding and to this day I still can't clearly remember leaving the field.

The only thing I'm grateful for is that I got to play almost all of my final college game. It's the only reason I was able to keep my scholarship to finish my last semester. Not that I had majored in anything significant. I followed suit with the other jocks and got my degree in phys ed. I was still active after I recovered from the surgery, but was determined to be ineligible to be drafted due to the high risk of reinjury.

"Baby, come back to bed," I hear a sleepy voice whine from down the hall and I shudder. Heidi pads out to the den of my apartment wearing nothing but one of my t-shirts. That pisses me off. She knows I don't do sleepovers. I pick her dress off the floor where it landed after I practically ripped it off her and toss it in her direction.

"Time for you to go home," I tell her and ignore the hurt look in her eyes. "And I'm not your fucking 'baby'."

She stomps back to my room to dress. I realize that I have become just what Sookie always feared I would. After she dumped me, I spent the last two weeks in town avoiding everyone and anything that would remind me of her. My first night in Knoxville, I attempted to fuck her out of my head with some girl named Janella, but it didn't work. She never really left my thoughts, but it got easier to ignore as I got busier with classes and practices. And once I was free to do so, I never stopped sampling the female student population. I regained my former fuck-and-run reputation, but I didn't care. I stopped caring what my playmates thought of me. I never made any promises to anyone. If they felt hurt by my dismissal or thought I would change for them, it was their own damn fault. I never lied about my intentions.

I continue flipping through channels as Heidi clacks down my hall in stilettos. My jaw stiffens. I hate the sound and effects of high heels on my hardwood. I ignore her until I hear the door open and slam closed. I sigh and let myself relax. I should have known better than to get involved with someone from high school, even for just a few hours. Their expectations of me are entirely too high.

I grab a beer from the fridge and settle back on the couch. Since I no longer exert myself in daily practices and workouts, I don't sleep as well as I used to. Glancing at the clock, I notice it's well after three a.m. So I'm surprised to see my mom's cell phone on my call ID when my phone vibrates on the coffee table.

"Yeah, Mom, what's up?" I ask. Since I moved home earlier this month and got a place of my own, I haven't kept in close contact with my parents

"Eric, I hate calling you so late, but I thought you should know…" she trails off.

I roll my eyes. "Ma, I'm tired. Say what you want to say."

"Fine," she huffs, already impatient with my mood. "I know you're reconnecting with some of your old friends and one of them got arrested tonight, so I didn't know if you had been contacted or if you were even talking to him…"

I had gotten in touch with both Clancy and Max when I got back to town, but none of us had anything besides a past in common anymore. It was just awkward. "Mom, spit it out. Tell me who got arrested and I'll tell you if I care." Yes, I'm an ass. Now ask if I give a damn.

Her thoughts on that sentiment are clear in her tone. "Your old buddy Bill Compton came in for some stitches in his head. He was picked up in the ER tonight for DUI and…"

I chuckled. "That fuck-up? I never even considered getting in touch with him. What'd he do, hit a tree?"

For the first time, Mom's voice shakes with an emotion other than exasperation. "He got picked up for DUI and vehicular manslaughter. He killed a man tonight."

SPOV

"Just a few more boxes and we'll be done," I pant to my brother as I struggle to hand him a box full of books from the back of the moving truck. He handles it with ease and grins at the almost-empty trailer. I was sad when Gran passed a couple of years ago, and I never thought she'd leave me her house. Hadley and Chester broke up when she left for college and she is engaged to a Russian history major named Alexi in North Carolina. Sophie and Bert married after she finished college and have their own house about half an hour away. Andre married an awesome girl, an artist named Neave. They moved into the mountain-top cabin permanently and she has a ceramic workshop/gallery at the foot of the drive. They already have one adorable baby named Rogan and are always talking about how much they want another. Since Jason and I are the only singletons left and he already built a house of his own, I was more than happy to have somewhere I could live on my own. I love my parents, but at twenty-one, it's a little embarrassing to live with them.

We finally finish unloading the boxes and crates and move them to their appropriate rooms. After the strenuous work, I follow him to the truck drop off and drive him back to Gran's, I mean my, house. I offer to thank him by getting him a pizza and a six-pack to split, but he shakes his head and grins. "I have a better idea. I want dinner out and to celebrate my baby sister finally making it home! Six visits in the past four years have not been enough. But now you're here to stay!"

I swat his shoulder and laugh. "Hush now, someone might think you're happy to see me!"

He kisses the top of my head and orders me to change so he can take me out and show me off. I send him home, a whopping quarter mile away, to shower. I take a few moments to unpack my towels, toiletries, and a huge terrycloth robe I lived in in Chicago. Even though I washed it before it was packed, it still smells like my old apartment a little. It makes me smile.

I spent all of my senior year of high school concentrating on my studies. I stayed on the newspaper staff, but resigned from the dance squad and even cut back on my hours at Merlotte's. I took a lot of AP classes to skip some of the freshman prerequisites for the courses I really wanted. I rarely went out and became quite a homebody. The only people I didn't retreat from were Jason and Tara, who remains my one of my best friends to this day, even while pursuing a career in dance in New York.

When I got to Northwestern and was completely overwhelmed by a city the size of Chicago, I gave myself a couple of weeks to go crazy, have some fun, and learn my way around. While I acclimated to the loud, noisy city, I was able to meet some of my classmates and make some new friends. Also, while I wasn't the campus mattress, I also wasn't a nun. I met a few guys over my four years there that I had good times with. But I never called any of them "boyfriend" or had more than a fun-physical relationship with them.

I also avoided college sports like the plague. It was pretty easy there. Football, unless it involved the Bears or the Packers, was generally ignored, so I didn't have to hide under a rock to get away from it. At home, when I visited for Christmases, it was a different story. But Jason and Daddy were considerate enough to change the channel if a Tennessee game came on, even if it was one they wanted to watch.

I spent as much time as I could I Chicago, even spending the summers after my sophomore and junior years there being a go-fer at the Sun-Times. I loved my family, and I missed my brother and Tara, but I felt that I had temporarily outgrown my small town. But now, I'm happy to be back. There's a feeling of familiarity and comfort that can't be found anywhere else. And being able to live in the house where my daddy and uncle grew up and where so many of my own happy childhood memories are based is priceless. I'm truly happy I was able to find a good job in commuting distance from my hometown.

After my shower, I dress and wait for Jason to pick me up. Amazingly, our relationship became even closer once I moved away. Maybe he began trusting my instincts or started seeing me as an equal, but he has become more than my brother. He's my confidante and closest friend and knows me better than anyone else.

I wander around the house barefooted, just reacquainting myself with the layout. When I get to the guest room, I stop outside the door. I look inside at the stripped bed and bare windows and smile.

Little things remind me of Eric since I've moved back. When I drove over the bridge by the marina, I remembered the summer days at the beach. As I travelled the miles and miles of rolling farmland, I thought of our times in the field. When I passed the ice cream shop across from the high school, I remembered our first time together. Time has tempered the memories so I can look at them fondly, without the bitterness that tainted them earlier.

I hear the noisy diesel truck rattle up my driveway and slide on my shoes. I meet my brother on the porch and spin for his approval. I know he's taking me to Merlotte's, so I'm not dressed up. However, my jeans are tight and flattering while my top is fluttery and low-cut. It isn't much different than how I dress normally, except for the black four-inch "fuck-me" stilettos. Jason gives me a wolf whistle before helping me up into the truck. Heels are a bitch.

We chatter back and forth on the short drive, catching each other up on people we might see tonight. I tell him more about the little regional column I've been hired to write and he tells me more about his new gig as an EMT. The parking lot is filled per usual this close to summer. I barely get in the door before I'm wrapped in a huge, burly hug. I return Senior's hug with a laugh. He jokes about me tying on an apron for old time's sake and I pretend to walk out. He tugs Jason and me to the bar and orders his bartender to give him the tab; he's comping our drinks tonight.

Various old friends find their way to the spot we occupy at the bar. We catch up with JB, Tray, and Holly. Amazingly, Arlene is still working here and happy to see me too. We all laugh, drink, and reminisce. It is a great time until someone I'd forgotten appears at my side.

"It sheems as though we're neighbors now, Shweet Sssookie," Bill slurs into my ear and I feel like I need another shower. I can smell the beer and whisky on him. Jason's posture stiffens and his hands clench into fists.

"My sister doesn't want you around anymore than she did when you assaulted her six years ago. I suggest you move on before I show you how a rebroken nose feels."

"I think Darling Sssookie is a big girl. Let her speak for hershelf, Ssstackhouse," Bill growls drunkenly and he runs his sweaty fingers down my bare arm. Oh, that's it…

I pivot to my feet, spin, cock my arm back, and throw my fist. I don't hit his nose, but I do connect and follow through to his jaw, snapping his head sharply to the side. "You're right. I am a big girl and I can fight my own battles. I don't allow anyone to touch me without permission. Keep your nasty hands to yourself, you dick."

Jason looks like he's on the verge of starting a slow clap. Tray, JB, and Hoyt seem ready to join him. Before he can retaliate, Senior grabs him by the shoulder (harder than necessary), escorts him out, and bars him permanently. Customers watching thank him for doing what they feel should have been done years ago.

Determined to still enjoy my homecoming party, I forget my aching knuckles with a couple of shots and join my brother and buddies for rounds of pool, darts, and pitchers. I get pretty lit, but Jason stays sober (enough) to get us home safely. Time flies and before I know it, Senior yells "Last call". We all finish our drinks, arrange rides for those who need them, and head out. I'm giggly as I thank Senior gratuitously for treating us so well tonight. He kisses my forehead and tells me he's glad I'm home. I almost cry, it's so sweet… and I'm that drunk.

Jason pulls behind Gran's house like always and helps me down. I go to fish my keys out of my pocketbook and realize I don't have it. "Fuck! Jason, I left my purse at the bar. It has my keys and everything!" I know my voice is whiney, but I'm to the sleepy part of my drunk and I just want to lay down more than anything.

"Don't worry, Sook. Use the spare key to let yourself in. I'll run back to Merlotte's while Senior is still there and grab it for you. If you're already asleep, I'll just leave it on the kitchen table." He's already heading back to his truck when I turn the key in the lock. I put it back in its hiding place before I stumble back to my bed.

XxXxXxXxXx

Uggh… it's entirely too bright and I am way too hungover to be awake this early. I wince at the sun coming in the windows and determine I need to get some blinds ASAP. I trudge into the kitchen and start the coffee maker. I put my head down on the table, listening to the heavenly hisses and plinks of my caffeinated goodness brewing. When I hear a tiny knock on the back door, I assume Jason is coming to fuck with me in my post-drunk, queasy state. It wouldn't be the first time.

When I answer, it's Momma and Daddy. I smile and let them in, apologizing for my state. Both of them look like they've been crying. The only time I've ever seen Daddy cry was when Gran died. I'm suddenly nauseous in a way that has nothing to do with the amount I drank last night. I want to call Jason for his support; they're scaring me. My purse isn't on the table when I go for my phone. I sit in the chair I just got up from and stare at my parents.

"Baby, we have some…" Momma starts and buries her face in her hands, unable to finish. I look over at Daddy and he takes over.

'Sugar, Jason was coming home from Merlotte's last night and… a drunk driver swerved into his lane. From what the state trooper said, it happened too fast to prevent the accident. The other truck was the same size as Jason's, but the other driver was wearing his seat belt. You know Jase never does… did." He chokes a moment before continuing. "Jason's truck was flipped and he was ejected. The truck rolled over him."

I cover my mouth to keep from screaming. After a moment of stunned silence except for Momma's sobs and Daddy's emotional throat clearing, I make myself ask, "So he's in the hospital, right? He's hurt, but he's gonna be okay?"

Momma's arms wrap around me and she pulls me down onto her lap. She strokes my hair like she did when I was little and shakes her head. "Jason's gone, baby."

I feel the heat of the tears on my cheeks before I feel my heart shatter in my chest. My big brother, my confessor, my therapist, my overprotective warden… always willing to fight with and for me, depending on the situation… he's gone. And it's my fault. If I hadn't forgotten my purse, he'd be here now, making a greasy breakfast and giving me shit about my hangover. Jason's dead. I can't accept it and break down against Momma's shoulder. I feel Daddy come up behind me and wraps us both in his arms. I feel like I'll never stop crying knowing that the best brother God could have ever given me has been taken from my world too soon.