Chapter 41 (Asher)
When your coach calls you into his office two days before classes are scheduled to start again, you know something serious is going on.
I know it can't be about the results from the Ethics final, because somehow by the grace of God I ended up getting an A minus.
I try to calm my nerves as I make my way across campus to his office, fighting the urge to look at my phone the entire time.
I've talked to Landon a whopping two times since he's been in England. But the pictures on his Instagram and Twitter tell me he's having one hell of a time there and people are loving him.
Seemingly overnight, my nerd turned into a rock star. And while I'm happy for him...it does nothing to alleviate the ache in my chest from missing him.
The both of them. Because it goes without saying that I haven't talked to Breslin since our last conversation.
I've seen her, though. Sometimes it's while I'm out jogging and she's getting home late from work. Sometimes it's passing her in the dorm hallways.
Sometimes it's in my dreams.
But she's there. She's always there.
I knock on Coach Crane's office door and he calls me right in.
I stand there shell-shocked for a moment because—holy shit—there are tears in the man's eyes. Just what in the actual fuck is going on?
“Are you okay, Coach?”
He props his elbows on his desk, looking lost in deep thought. “There are only four acceptable reasons for a grown man to cry,” he starts. “When someone you love dies. The day the love of your life walks down the aisle. The first time you hold your child.” He looks at me. “And when a coach finds out the NFL is interested in one of the best players he's ever had the honor of coaching.”
I blink and step back, because there's no way I'm hearing him correctly. “What?”
“I didn't tell you because I didn't want to get either of our hopes up, but I submitted some tapes of you a couple of months ago and there was a scout at the last game.” He wipes the sweat from his brow. “And they're interested. It hasn't been made official yet, but I heard from a very reliable source—one that I can't tell you about on account that I'm not supposed to be talking to them—but the Saints are looking at you for their first draft pick. Of course, you have to make it through the drafting process, but since it's at the end of April we have time to prepare and train and I have no doubts that you'll be picked.” He smiles. “They want you, Holden. Real fucking bad.”
Everything in the room turns to one big whirl, but one small thought prevents me from enjoying this moment. “Are they aware of who my father is? That he owns—” I swallow because my next thought is even worse. “Do they know about the video?”
He stands up and nods. “They do and they don't give a shit. Their current QB is getting long in the tooth and his body's breaking down. They need fresh blood to revive the team and you're just what they're looking for. They don't care what you do inside your bedroom or who your daddy is, Asher. All they care about is the way you play out on that field for them.”
Everything stops—my brain, my heart and my breath—as I take in what he's telling me. I've wanted to be in the NFL since the day a football was put in my hand. It's what I've worked all my life for, and when I thought it was ripped from me for good because of getting kicked out of Duke and the video, I was crushed. And although I loved being able to play football again at Woodside—dangerous threats aside— I've basically spent the last few months grieving what was taken away from me.
I try to speak, but fail. This moment is too much for me to process. Something my coach seems to understand because he walks over and puts his hand on my shoulder. “I know it's overwhelming right now, but you deserve this, Holden. Be ready to start training again in the next 72 hours.”
“Thank you,” I manage to choke out, even though I'm not sure how I'll ever be able to thank this man for everything he's done for me.
He walks back over to his desk and his lips twitch. “Hope you like gumbo.”
I leave his office feeling like I'm actually floating on cloud nine. I start to take out my phone but slide it back in my pocket. Then, before my brain can catch up with my head, I'm running as fast as I can toward the one person that I need to tell first.
It takes me about 40 minutes to make it to Breslin's job on foot and when I walk through the doors, she's so busy with a customer's order, she doesn't even notice me.
I wait in line behind some guy who's eyeing her up and down while her back is turned. I have to suppress the urge to tell him off, but it's not like I can blame the guy for looking.
When she turns around and hands the guy his drink, her eyes snag on me and she blanches. That is until the guy standing in front of me clears his throat and drawls, “So, is today the day you finally cave and give me your number, Red?”
Breslin smiles politely, something I give her credit for. “I'm sorry, but I can't.”
“Why—” he starts to inquire but I step up to the counter, irritation surging in my chest.
“Because she has a boyfriend.”
The guy looks between us and when I cross my arms and I stare him down, he's the one who turns pale. “Shit, dude, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hit on your girlfriend right in front of you.”
“I'm not his girlfriend,” Breslin mutters under her breath.
The guy grins from ear to ear then, his attention back on her. “So, does that mean I can get your number?”
Man, this guy has a set on him.
Breslin starts to shake her head but I tap him on the shoulder. “If you don't stop hitting on my boyfriend's girlfriend and learn to take no for an answer, I'm going to shove my fist down your throat.”
His eyebrows shoot up and he looks between us again. “I'm so confused.”
“It's complicated,” Breslin says. “But he's right, I do have a boyfriend.”
The guy backs away and shakes his head before walking out the door.
Breslin looks up at me. “Thank you. That asshat is relentless. I've declined his offers countless times, but it's like he has amnesia whenever he walks through the door.”
My heart does a double take. It's the first words she's spoken to me since that day in the bathroom. “Yeah, he seemed pretty annoying.”
She pushes her hair out of her face. “What can I get you?” She eyes me skeptically. “I don't think I've ever seen you drink coffee before.”
“I'll take whatever is easiest. And you're right, I'm not here for coffee.”
Her shoulders rise on a deep inhale. “Oh.”
Before she can say anything else, I tell her, “I had a meeting with Coach Crane today.”
She reaches for a pot of coffee and grabs a to-go paper cup. “I thought football season was over?”
“It is.” I wait for her to look up again. When she does, I say, “New Orleans wants me.”
I can see the confusion spread across her face before she gasps and drops the coffee cup on the floor. “The Saints? The NFL Saints?”
I nod, hearing her say it makes it all real. “Coach heard through the grapevine that they want me for their first pick in the draft. I won't find out for sure until April but he says it's pretty much a sure thing.”
Her hands fly to her face. “Oh, my God.” She gives me the biggest, most gorgeous smile and I swear my knees get weak.
I'm caught off guard when she shoves a bunch of muffins in my hand suddenly. “What's with the muffins?”
She looks down and laughs. “I don't know, I feel like this moment calls for something more than just regular ol' congratulations. So, it was either muffins or cookies, and the baker brought these fresh today and they're so good. Oh, and everything is on the house by the way. I mean, obviously.” She finally stops for air and I can't help but grin at her. “I'm really happy for you, Asher. This is really, really, really great.”
“Really?” I say and she laughs again before her expression turns serious. “Have you told Landon yet?”
I reach for the new cup of coffee she hands me. “You were the first person I told actually.” I look down. “I've only spoken to Landon twice in the last three weeks.” I snort. “I'm still waiting for him to return my last ten phone calls.”
She reaches for the mop and starts cleaning the floor. “Yeah, same here.”
“From what I can see on his Twitter and Instagram, though, he seems to be having a lot of fun.”
She walks back over to the counter. “Yeah, I've noticed.” She smooths her hands over her apron. “He seems to really love it over there.”
There's a heavy silence and then she whispers, “I miss him.”
I lean against the counter and pull out my phone. “Me too.” I bring the phone up to my ear. “But if he actually picks up this time, I'll tell him to call you.”
Her face lights up. “Thank you.”
I make a thumbs down sign when it goes straight to voicemail. “Hey, rock star, call me back when you get this. I have some really exciting news to tell you.”
I hang up and sigh. “At this rate I'll be telling him face to face since he comes back in a few days.” An idea hits me and I look at her. “Can we hang out and celebrate later?” I reach for her hand...only for her to pull it back like I singed her.
“No, I'm sorry but I meant what I said the last time we spoke, Asher. Maybe I didn't say it very nicely, but the message is still the same.” She takes a step back. “Congrats on the news, though. Despite what happened between us, I want nothing but the best for you.”
It's such a diplomatic response it takes everything in me not to throw my coffee and muffins against the wall and kiss her like there's no tomorrow. If she really wanted the best for me she'd be in my arms.
Instead, I take my coffee and muffins and walk out like the heartbroken and lovesick bastard that I am, the reality of her words finally sinking in.
Our past is over and it can't ever be fixed. It's time we both accept it and move on.
The sound of my phone ringing wakes me out of an already restless sleep and I curse.
Until I realize, there's a good chance it might be Landon on account that it's the afternoon in England.
My stomach drops when I see it's a number that I don't know but I pick up anyway. “Hello?”
“Is this Asher Holden?” some woman's voice greets me on the other line.
I sit up and swing my legs over the bed. “Who wants to know?”
“I'm calling from Truesdale General Hospital. Your father has been involved in a bad automobile accident and we're unable to reach his wife, but your name is listed as his emergency contact. We need you to come down here as soon as you can—”
I don't hear the rest of her statement because the phone slips from my hand and it becomes impossible to breathe.