𝐆𝐆

Growing up in a small town meant everyone knew your future before you did. Especially when your name was always spoken alongside Henry Whitaker’s. The altar boy. The baseball star. The farmer’s son everyone trusted. The trouble was, growing up meant asking for a future that wasn’t entirely yours to decide. Everyone assumed they already knew how your story would end. They just never expected the hardest part would be getting there. { This is a spin off to my other story ‘Golden boy’ }