Damaged Petals.

[Caesar]

You know the Colton boys love their choco so yeah, Nia is black

Caesar the Nooticer. It was between how you be doing these Black women and how that nun said girl. It was giving hard er.

[Soapy]

You know the Colton boys love their choco so yeah, Nia is black

Caesar the Nooticer. It was between how you be doing these Black women and how that nun said girl. It was giving hard er.

[Soapy]

Season 5, Episode 11
Liz's fingers traced the edge of the photo frame as she hung it on the living room wall. It was a picture of Jimmy, maybe eleven or twelve years old, standing in his Little League uniform, bat resting on his shoulder. Something about this picture always caught her heart. Maybe it was the crooked teeth before the braces, or the way his cap sat slightly crooked despite her attempts to straighten it before the team photo.

"A little more to left," Sophie called from the couch where she was untangling the overhead lights.

Liz adjusted the frame, taking a step back to assess. "There?"

"Yeah," Sophie nodded, her eyes lingering on her brother's face before returning to the lights in her lap.

Sunlight streamed through the bay windows, providing some natural light in the early morning hours as they worked to prepare the house for later. Liz had opened every curtain, determined to fill the house with light for the first time in a while. The song changed on the speaker as "Mr. Brightside" by The Killers started playing, and Liz couldn't help the small smile that formed. It was part of her morning playlist back when she would drive the kids to school and at first, Jimmy hated it but once Brice learned that, he would sing it to the top of his lungs when it came on and soon after, as always with them, Jimmy started loving the song too.

"I told you it was in there," Sophie held up a small photo album that had been tucked away in one of the storage boxes. "It's from the trip to Georgia."

Liz crossed the room and sat beside her daughter, taking the album with gentle hands. "I forgot we had these printed."

She opened to the first page which showed Jimmy cannonballing off the dock, his body suspended mid-air, knees tucked to his chest, face split with laughter.

"Isn’t this better than scrolling through a phone?" Liz shook her head, glad she went through with getting them printed. She turned the page to find a family photo, all five of them squeezed onto the small cabin porch, sunburned and smiling. "Let's put this one up."

They worked in comfortable silence, broken only by occasional comments about where to hang a particular photo or memories triggered by an image. The music shifted to Jimmy's pre-game playlist which Sophie had transferred from his phone to hers.

The front door opened and closed, followed by the sound of keys dropping into the ceramic bowl on the entryway table. Liz exchanged a glance with Sophie, both of them hesitating. Tom's footsteps paused at the entrance to the living room. Liz turned, a greeting forming on her lips, but the words died when she saw his face. He stood frozen, one hand still gripping the doorframe, his eyes moving from photo to photo, taking in the transformation of the room. Jimmy's face was everywhere. Smiling, laughing, serious, silly.

"Hey hon," Liz said softly, taking a step toward him.

He didn't seem to hear her. His gaze had fixed on the large portrait they'd hung above the fireplace. Jimmy's junior year high school football photo, the one where he looked so grown up, so much like the man he would never get to become. The last official picture of him.

Tom's chest rose and fell rapidly, his breaths coming in short, shallow bursts. A sound escaped him, something between a gasp and a sob, and then his knees seemed to give way. He caught himself on the back of the armchair.

Sophie was already moving, crossing the room to her father's side.

"Dad," she said, wrapping her arms around his waist.

Tom's arm came around her shoulders automatically, but his eyes remained locked on Jimmy's face. Tears spilled down his cheeks now, unchecked and unashamed. Liz watched as the walls her husband had built since the funeral crumbled before her eyes.

She approached them slowly, uncertain of her welcome after so many months of distance. But when she reached them, Tom's free arm opened to include her in the embrace. The three of them stood there, holding each other as Tom wept for their son, their brother, their Jimmy.

…

The aluminum bleachers bit into Nia's thighs as she tilted the bottle back, vodka burning down her throat. She swallowed hard, suppressing a gag as the cheap liquor settled like fire in her empty stomach. The abandoned baseball field stretched before her, shadowy under the evening sky, chain-link fences rusted and bent in places where kids had forced their way through over the years.

"Holy shit!" Brian's voice echoed across the empty bleachers. "Slow down, baby!"

Nia wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and passed the bottle to Zack.

"Damn, you trying to black out tonight or what?" Zack laughed, taking a more measured sip before passing it to Damien.

She only offered a shrug, the world beginning to soften around the edges, sounds becoming slightly muffled.

From the far end of the dugout, Amber called out, "Our little Nia is all grown up.

She didn’t even offer a shrug this time, reaching for the bottle as it made its way back to her. Her fingers trembled slightly, but she disguised it by taking another long pull.

Juan whistled low as he shared a glance with Zack, their prospects increasing with each ounce consumed.

The alcohol was working faster than she'd expected, probably because she hadn't eaten since that morning. A warmth spread through her limbs, dulling the sharp edges of memory that had been cutting into her all day.

"You might want to ease up," Brian said, sliding closer to her on the bleacher. "We only got the one bottle."

…

The truck’s engine rumbled as Brice pulled into the Colton family driveway, tires crunching over the familiar concrete. He killed the engine but kept his hands gripped on the steering wheel. The house loomed before him, windows glowing warm against the evening darkness.

Through the bay windows, he could see them. Sophie, moving around the living room. Mitch and Devon, former teammates of his that got called up to varsity at the same time as Jimmy, standing near the fireplace. Coach Lanovoi by the kitchen entrance. The Andersons from next door.

Brice's chest tightened. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. They were all there to celebrate Jimmy, to remember him, to talk about him in past tense. And suddenly it was all too much.

He'd driven three hours from Purdue with every intention of walking through that front door. He'd prepared himself, or so he thought. But now, sitting in his truck, watching life continue in a house that would forever be missing his little brother, Brice felt the ground shift beneath him.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, screen illuminating his face in the darkened cab. Three missed FaceTime calls from Skylar. A growing trend these days. Brice swiped away the notification without responding. His thumb hovered over his contacts, scrolling past the family group chat, past teammates' names, landing finally on a contact he hadn’t texted in a while.

He typed quickly. The response came almost immediately.

…

"Gotta make a move," Brian announced, pushing himself up from the bleachers, pocketing his phone with a quick glance at the group.

"What, like right now?" Amber whined.

"Yeah, like right now," Brian mimicked her tone. "Some of us have business to conduct."

Nia stood up, the world tilting slightly beneath her feet. She grabbed Brian's arm to steady herself, the vodka hitting her system harder than she'd expected.

"Whoa," Brian laughed, steadying her. "You good?"

"I'm fine," she insisted, though her words came out slightly slurred. "Where we going?"

Brian looked at her with a mixture of amusement and concern. "You sure you don’t want to call it a night?"

"I'm fine," she repeated, more firmly this time. The idea of being left alone, even for a few minutes, seemed unbearable. Today of all days.

"Alright, let’s roll then," Brian shrugged.

They followed Brian in a loose pack, making their way from the abandoned baseball field toward campus. Nia concentrated hard on placing one foot in front of the other without stumbling. The cool evening air felt good against her flushed skin, but did little to clear her head.

Notre Dame's campus loomed ahead, the golden dome catching the last remnants of daylight. Brian led them to a small park near the edge of campus, where he often held these rendezvous. A black Ford Raptor pulled into the nearby parking lot, high off the ground with tinted windows and gleaming rims. It circled once before parking under a tree, engine idling for a moment before shutting off.

The driver's side door swung open, and a tall figure stepped out. Nia squinted through her alcohol haze, something familiar about the way he moved catching her attention. He was broader than she remembered, his hair longer, falling just above his eyes, a fuller beard. Brian approached him before dapping each other up, pulling each other in for a quick shoulder bump.

"My man!" Brian's voice carried across the parking lot. "Long time, broski."

"Not long enough," Brice laughed, the sound unexpectedly painful to Nia's ears. It was so like Jimmy's laugh, deeper maybe, but with the same cadence. "I try to refrain myself from keeping such company."

She watched as they conducted their business, money and bag exchanging hands, Brice tucking it into his jacket pocket. Brice gave a general nod to the group, his eyes sliding past Nia without recognition.

"We're figuring out the move for tonight," Brian told him. "You down to hang for a bit? With us scoundrels?"

"Yeah," Brice shrugged, "I don’t got nothing else going on."

The lie hung in the air, obvious to Nia but apparently to no one else. She knew exactly where he should be right now. Where she should be too.

…

The doorbell echoed through the Colton house, cutting through the gentle murmur of conversation. Connie stood on the porch, her heart hammering against her ribs as she clutched a small bouquet of white lilies. She'd changed outfits three times before settling on a soft pink sweater and dark jeans, casual enough not to seem like she was trying too hard, but respectful enough for the occasion.

The door swung open, and Sophie's face appeared, breaking into a genuine smile that made Connie's chest ache with relief.

"You came!" Sophie exclaimed, pulling the door wider. "Thank you so much."

"Sophie, who's at the—" Liz's words died on her lips as she stepped into the entryway.

Behind Sophie, Connie caught sight of Liz and Tom in the living room. Their conversation with Coach Lanovoi halted abruptly as they registered her presence. Tom's expression hardened, while Liz's eyes widened in surprise.

"I invited Connie," Sophie said, her voice carrying a hint of defiance despite its softness.

Connie shifted uncomfortably, one foot already angling back toward her car.

"I’m so happy you’re here," Sophie quickly followed up, sensing the tension, taking Connie’s hand.

Connie could feel Tom's eyes on her.

"These are for... for all of you," Connie said, thrusting the lilies forward.

Liz hesitated for a moment before accepting them. "Thank you, Connie."

Sophie squeezed Connie's hand reassuringly before leading her into the living room. "Let me introduce you to everyone."

Connie followed Sophie through the gathering, hyperaware of the curious glances thrown her way. She recognized a lot of the faces from her time at St. Joseph’s, teammates of Jimmy’s. And Brice’s.

"This is my friend Taylor," Sophie said, pulling a girl about her age forward. "And this is Mitch and Devon."

Devon nodded politely. "Hey, Connie."

Mitch gave a small wave.

Connie managed a smile, though it felt brittle on her face. "It's good to see you guys again."

The photos of Jimmy surrounded them, his smile beaming down from every wall. The same timid smile that had greeted her countless times in this very house when she'd come over to see Brice. The memory of it made her throat tighten.

"Would you like something to drink?"

Connie turned to find Liz standing beside her, holding a glass of what looked like lemonade.

"Yes, thank you," Connie accepted the glass, their fingers brushing briefly.

"I'm glad Sophie invited you," Liz said quietly. "Jimmy always liked you."

The simple statement hit Connie like a physical blow. She blinked rapidly, willing away the sudden moisture in her eyes.

Tom approached, carrying a small plate filled with finger foods. He stood beside his wife, his expression unreadable as he extended the plate toward Connie.

"Help yourself," he said, his voice gruff but not unkind. "We’ve got plenty of food."

Connie accepted the plate, the gesture feeling monumental in its ordinariness. "Thank you, Mr. Colton."

…

Nia felt her head clearing slightly as they walked across campus, the late night air cool against her skin, helping to cut through the fog that had enveloped her earlier. She trailed behind the group, watching as Brian and Brice led the way, their voices carrying back to her in bursts of laughter and half-finished stories.

The more she watched Brice, the more she noticed things, little mannerisms that tugged at her memory. The way he swept his hair to the side with a quick flick of his fingers. How he walked. That half-smile that appeared when he was about to say something he thought was clever.

Jimmy used to do those exact same things. She'd never made the connection before, but now it seemed so obvious. Jimmy had studied his older brother, mimicked him in ways that had become so natural she'd never noticed the source. But there were differences too. Jimmy had been gentler. Less loud. More self aware.

A small smile crossed her face as they approached Hesburgh Library. The massive "Touchdown Jesus" loomed above them, illuminated against the night sky, arms raised in benediction as if welcoming them in their drunken state.

"Look at this fucking piece of shit," Brice slurred, pointing dramatically at the mural. He'd been drinking steadily since they started walking, passing a bottle back and forth with Brian.

Brian laughed, his arm slung around Amber's shoulders. "Show some respect, man. You're on sacred ground."

"Sacred my ass," Brice stumbled slightly, catching himself. "Fuck this place."

Brice broke away from the group, staggering toward the small reflecting pool in front of the library. He fumbled with his zipper, and before anyone could process what was happening, he was urinating into the water.

"This motherfucker crazy," Brian laughed, pulling out his phone. He tapped the screen a few times.

"Hey! Check out my boy right here," Brian narrated, his words slurring slightly as he panned the camera toward Brice.

Brice turned his head, still mid-stream, and grinned when he saw the phone pointed at him. He zipped up with one hand and threw up his middle finger with the other, aiming it directly at the illuminated mural.

"Fuck Notre Dame!" he shouted, his voice echoing across the quiet campus. "Fuck Marcus Freeman! Fuck South Bend! Fuck St. Joe's! Fuck the whole fucking Catholic Church, you fucking pedophiles!"

[Caesar]

Brice… get ready to learn Tarleton State, bucko.

Got my money on Skylar being pregnant. She did it on purpose for a keep a wigga baby.

Connie shouldn’t have gone to that shit. This got backsliding written all over it.

[redsox907]

Juan whistled low as he shared a glance with Zack, their prospects increasing with each ounce consumed.

this girl bout to get a train ran on her for her first time

Brice running from emotion? Color us surprised.

first thought was he was texting Connie tho. Probably better for Connie that he too much a bitch to face his dead brother, otherwise she woulda folded right there. But I'm with Caes, not a good move for growing on Connie's part.

Brice doing a great job at not self destructing, eh Mr. LaPenna