ERIC

The air in the locker room is thick with sweat and disillusionment. “You wanted to see me, Coach?”

I’m waiting for the ax to fall.

Let it.

Keeping his volume low he demands, “The fuck is the matter with you, Cocker?”

Banging my helmet against my thigh I answer, “Dunno.”

“Hell you don’t. Something changed and I want to know what it is.” He leans in, pissed off and impatient. “Someone die or somethin’?”

“No.”

“Then what’s goin’ on with you?”

“Just not in the zone, Coach,” I shrug.

Amidst the conversation I hear extremely familiar voices drifting into my consciousness. I glance over to my parents. Mom’s face first, then flick to Dad’s. Embarrassed they had to watch me play like I did out there today, I yank a hand through my hair.

Coach clears his throat. “Drew, good to see you. Hey Jake. You need something?”

“You reading my son the riot act?” Dad gravely asks, reading the situation as he crosses his arms.

“Can you give us a minute?” I ask them.

Mom starts to leave but Dad doesn’t budge. “Nah, I think we’ll stay. I want to hear this.”

“Fuck,” I mutter.

Her sweet southern drawl is impatient. “Eric, don’t swear at your father!”

“Wasn’t swearing at him,” I grumble, “Just cussing in general. Look, I had an off game. It’s not a big deal.”

“You’ve been dropping off for the past three, and now we’re nearly edged out of the playoffs,”Coach growls, eyebrows shooting up, “so I want answers! Your sheer talent has gotten us here, but not your enthusiasm, I can tell you that! There’s no skating to the Super Bowl. You either play big or lose! And you’re telling me to my face that it’s no biggie?!”

“Did you really just use air-quotes?” I mutter, eyes dull.

Coach’s face goes red at my mocking him, especially with witnesses he respects. “You’re sitting on the bench next game, Cocker!”

Fuck that hurts. My soul shouts no, but my hatred of authority and broken heart snarl, “Fine.”

He glares at me, throws his leathery hands in the air and storms off. Following his exit I discover Mott, Tony and Dion eavesdropping, half out of their uniforms and stretching the seconds before they had to hit the showers. My back hunches as I read their disappointment.

Glancing back to my grim parents I blink a few times. “You guys here to tell me how much I suck, too?”

Dad drops his arms, and Mom’s lips part. Neither of them speaks, so I head past them, mumbling, “I need to get out of this uniform. I’ll call you later.” Only instead I grab my keys from my locker and stride out.

I hear my father calling my name in the hallway as reporters try in vain to get a statement from me. Heavy footsteps jog up—him in his work boots as usual—until he’s at my side, matching my quick pace.

“You okay?”

Pain shoots into my chest. It’s the first time someone’s asked. “No.”

Walking backward he tells the insistent reporter who’s following us, “Hey, back off.”

“Who’re you?”

“I’m Jake Cocker, you nosy fuck. I’m his father, now beat it before I call yours!” He flips back around as the guy sulks off.

A smile flashes, and under my breath I tell him, “Thanks, Dad.”

“I got your back, little man. You know that.”

Chuckling I glance over to him, our steps echoing off the walls. “You haven’t called me that since I was a kid.”

“Since you grew taller than me you mean? Didn’t seem right…until now.”

I frown, “You saying I’m acting like a child?”

“No, I’m saying you need more love than normal. I can tell you’re hurting.”

Pushing the door open we walk out into a private parking lot, December sky thick with charcoal grey clouds. I chose the exit that the masses don’t know about. Press and players do, but since they’re all back there wanting to get the story about our loss, we’re alone. No fans rushing over. Just me and Dad.

After a beat of silence he adds, “It’s not easy for us men to talk, but so what? I’m here and I wanna listen. Confide in me, Eric. What’s goin’ on?”

I stop walking and struggle for how to explain it to him, and maybe understand it better myself. Tucking my helmet under my arm I confess what I can’t deny anymore, “I’m in love.”

Dad’s eyes flicker, eyebrows flying up before they relax and he hooks thumbs in his jeans pockets. “Well shit, I never expected this was gonna be over a woman. At least not with you.”

Reacting I ask, “You think I’m gay?”

Dad laughs, “No, Eric, I don’t think you’re gay. I think you’re obsessed with football and fucking anonymously, that’s what I think.”

Frowning I stare at the asphalt. “Fair assessment.”

“Yep.”

“But not anymore.”

“Tell me about her.”

Biting my lip I squint at him. “At first I thought she was a badass, and I’ll admit it—I just wanted to nail her. She’s hot, like real hot. Has a few tats. Wears black a lot. No makeup except for this bright lipstick. Not trashy, just cool, you know? She’s got these copper eyes, Dad, and they always look like they’re laughing, you know what I mean?”

“Yeah.”

I grumble, “Until she met me. I don’t know, guess it’s not all my fault she stopped smiling. She was dating this drummer when I met her, real punk, cheated on her, so I beat him up and outed the affair. That’s when things got serious between us. For about two seconds. But I felt like it was going to last!”

Concentrating he jogs his chin up. “What changed?”

“Her. Me. Both? That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out. I don’t think she took me seriously, at first. And she shouldn’t have. I was just after sex. She knew it—I didn’t make it a secret. But then we had this moment after Mott knocked her tray and drenched us…it’s a long story. But we were in the bathroom cleaning up, laughing our asses off. And it felt good. Real good. I know that’s when I started thinking about her for real. Then we ran into each other outside of O’Neal’s—that’s where she worked at the time. Ethan was with me, one of ‘em. Ask him! He’ll tell you he liked her, too. For months I went in and hung out on weekend nights drinking cranberry juice and hoping to make her laugh. I did, too, all the time! But as soon as we slept together she shut down. Told me she didn’t want to see me again. I’ve been trying to get her outta my mind. You’d think I could since she quit the bar—she’s not in there when we go, so it should be easy, right? It’s not. I miss her. I want to know what happened. But she won’t answer my texts, calls go through to voicemail like her phone is off. I think she blocked me!” Shaking my head at the ground I mutter, “Can you believe this shit? I’m in love and she hates my guts. Fucking hilarious, right?”

Dad frowns at the clouds, the sheen of grey in his hair making him look older, wiser. “Right after sex this happened?”

“Almost right after, yeah.”

“What’s her name?”

“Wren.”

“This the girl with the poison ivy?”

“Yeah, you were watching that game?”

He eyes me. “I watch all your games, Eric. You fuckin’ kiddin’ me?”

I switch the helmet to my other hip. “Sorry.”

“After we saw that, your mom and I were expecting you to call a family BBQ so we could meet her. It was a pretty big deal for you to do that on live television.”

“You’re telling me.”

Sucking on his teeth Dad cautiously asks, “Was the sex bad?”

“Best of my life! Hers, too, she said.”

“You believe her?”

Glaring at him I bark, “We were in bed for two days! I only left because I had a game! That one, with my hand fucked up!”

“Calm down! I’m just askin’!”

“I’m very good in bed, Dad.”

A grin spreads on his lips. “Good to know.” Settling down, he stares into the brewing storm again, like there he’ll find answers for all problems women-related. “Your mom gave me a run for my money, I pined after her every night until we worked it out. Most fuckin’ miserable time in my life.” He claps a hand on my shoulder, “Eric, if you think she’s the one, ask yourself how to get through to her. Because if she’s your girl, she’s hurting right now, where she is. Trust me on that, I know from experience. So what’s it gonna take?”

“I’ve been asking…”

“The answer will come.”

“It sure doesn’t feel like it,” I rasp, getting emotional. “I’m giving up…on everything.”

Dad grabs me and pulls me into his arms, squeezing me tight. “Heart ache is the worst. I’m not going to lie and tell you it’s easy. But you’re stronger.” Clapping my back he releases me. “You a quitter?”

“Fuck no!”

“You just let Coach bench you.” Speechless I flick a glance to the door. Dad eggs me on, “You want to let your team down?”

“No!”

“What are ya gonna do about it?”

“Dad…”

“You think Wren’s attracted to a guy who’d give up, especially this close to the playoffs?”

I sprint to the door, with him right behind me.

It’s like I’m waking up from a dream, fire plunging into my bloodstream. It never occurred to me for a minute that she’d be watching. I guess I was thinking if she blocked my calls and quit her job then she wouldn’t watch the game, but what if she has been? Makes me disgusted at myself just thinking about it! I’ve been phoning it in, what the fuck was I doing?!

Exploding through the double doors with Dad shouting, “Wait up!” I pause for him, and spot a swarm of reporters at the far end of the corridor, perking up and readying their microphones for me.

Under my breath I say, “You manipulated me a little bit, didn’t you?”

“Yep.”

“It worked.”

“I know.”

“You’re pretty sly, Dad.”

“I can be a real prick.”