It just all turns to shit, doesn’t it? At the end of the day, after all the cameras stop rolling, after all the fans put away their autograph pens, and much after the lights dim in the arena, what is left? I can answer that with one word: me. Only, that’s not as descriptive.

Picture this: a man in his prime, holding all the glory in the palm of his hands. Picture him in his empty mansion, without anyone left. There’s only him and the work he’s done. He’s buried in bank account statements, car payments, and the alcohol that keeps him going. There’s no wife. There’s no kids. There’s only him. And then, poof! It’s all gone.

I got drunk the night after the big fight. I couldn’t help it. I needed something to ease the pain and the one thing I truly wanted was missing from my life. Gone forever, just like everything else good. So, I got drunk by myself, staring at the blue pool.

I had a big, long discussion with myself. Was this what I wanted? Did I care that much about the game? By the end of it, I realized something. Hell no. This is not what I care about. It’s Fiona that I want more than anything. I don’t give a shit about the other stuff anymore. If I can’t have her, none of it is worth it.

I drain the pool. I call my realtor. “Put the house on the market. Yeah, I know. I’m drunk. Just do what I say, dammit.” I hang up the phone and fall asleep.

Now, it’s morning. You’d think my mind has changed, but it remarkably hasn’t. I still know what I want and need. It’s Fiona.

I call the Sports Network to issue a statement. “It’s all my fault. I admit to everything. But I will say one thing in my defense. Landon has been after me ever since I fell in love with one beautiful girl. I used to be the partying lunatic everyone loved. Now, according to him, I’ve lost my mind by trying to clean up my act. I just want to be a better man. So yeah, I hit the guy because he hit me first. Plain and simple. If the league wants me out, then I’ll have to comply. Dallas was a fun last game. Everything has to end sooner or later, right? So be it. Farewell, football fans.” It’s not the best statement in the world, but it does the trick. I’ve always spoken my mind. I’m not about to stop now.

I don’t want to leave the game behind, but I want the world to know my side of things. I want them to know that I was willing to put it all on the line for Fiona. Really, I just want her to know how I feel and how I really am, deep inside.

Even when I’m awake and sober, I look at these empty hallways of my house and feel a pit of despair forming inside of me. This is not the life I was after. I was after something much bigger. Deep down, I wanted love.

I grab a pen and paper. A simple email or text message won’t work for me this time. I look at the white, blank page and start writing. Words never suited me before, but I’m turning a new leaf. This is day one of my new life.

Fiona, I’m selling the house. I realize that’s not the best way to start a heartfelt letter, but I think you’d want to know that. I’m done with this life. I’m done playing the old Jackson Leeman. He was a character I thought I had to continue being. Turns out, I don’t. The other day was a wake-up call for me. I know you probably don’t believe me. Hell, I wouldn’t believe me either. Still, it’s the truth. I’m done being an asshole. So what? My father was a piece of shit. He didn’t raise me right. That doesn’t make me able to do or say whatever I want. If I continue down this path of self-righteousness, I’ll eventually turn into him. I don’t want that. I want you. I want sunshine. I want love. Yeah, I said it. Love. I love you, Fiona Breckinridge. I can’t stop it from happening. It’s just a fact. Like the rain that falls against the trees in springtime. It just had to be, right? So is my love for you. Take it or leave it. I want a house, children, to wake up and cook you breakfast while you’re still asleep. I want to kiss you when you’re 70 and we’re both old. Most of all, I want to watch life unfold with you, Fiona. You probably hate me right now, but I hope someday you can learn to forgive me. Love is all I’ll ever fight for now,

~Jackson.

I drop the pen and throw the piece of paper in an envelope. I don’t bother to edit it. Everything I said in that letter was the truth. I just hope she believes me. Every second, I’m looking down at my phone, as if somehow she’ll realize just how important she really is to me. Nothing happens and my day turns stagnant.

I don’t sit around to watch the sun go down or anything. I drop the letter off in her mailbox and head to an antique shop. There’s more to be done. I need to mend everything. I need to make things right.

I walk through a glass door and hear the bell ring above me. The smell of old dust, wood, and perfume fills the store. “Howdy! What can I do for you?” An old man at the counter smiles at me. “Say, aren’t you that sports player who keeps getting into all that trouble?”

“I am,” I laugh. “But I’m starting over. Today is day one.”

He pats my shoulder and laughs a little. “That’s alright. We all get in a little trouble every once in a while,” he says. His hair is erratic and his glasses keep falling off. “You came in here looking for a ring didn’t you?”

“How the hell did you know that?” I ask him, taken aback. It’s true. I came here to find a ring because I’m going to lay down my life and ask her to marry me. There ain’t nothing in the world that can stop me now. I feel, strangely, exhilarated.

“Ha! I’ve been in this business for over 35 years. I know when a man is in love. And boy, you’re spiraling. Follow me,” he says, motioning for me to come with him to the backside of the store.

We walk through a series of halls, until we reach a small room. “This is normally off limits to customers. But, I’ll make an exception. Your situation seems dire enough,” he whispers.

He unlocks the door and we walk into a room full of boxes. “Let’s see here,” he mumbles to himself, digging through a set of drawers. “Aha!” Finally, he grabs a small black ring box.

When he opens it, I nearly fall over. “We’ve had this for about a month. I didn’t have the heart to put it in the display case. It’s just too beautiful.” He smiles, staring wide-eyed with me at the diamonds.

“It’s gorgeous,” I whisper. “Like Fiona.”

“Any girl would be honored to be gifted such a ring,” he says. “But this one is obviously special. Is this Fiona woman worth it to you? Better yet, will you serve her as her husband well?”

“Sir, I’ll gladly lay down my life for her if I have to. She’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on. I can’t stop thinking about her. I’m thinking about quitting football for her, to be honest. I put my house on the market last night because I can’t stand to live in a big house alone anymore. I can’t stand the life I’ve made for myself,” I admit, probably telling too much too fast.

The old man simply nods his head. “Yes, I understand,” he says. “I was in your position once. Young and in love, my wife rejected me over and over again, over the course of two full years. Back then, I was set to go back to the Army. Finally, I decided to drop everything for her. I realized that she was the most important thing in this world, not a few purple hearts!” He chuckles to himself and nods again. “Imagine if I had gone back there. I could have ended up killed, or killing someone else!”

Am I dreaming? Is this man really in front of me? It’s like he’s an angel, sent to lead me in the right direction. He hands me the box. “Take it. It’s your last chance.”

I buy it on the spot. Thirty grand. Either he’s an angel or he’s a very good con man. Either way, I don’t care. She deserves it. It’s utterly perfect. A gorgeous ring for a gorgeous woman.

I walk out of the antique shop, feeling new and refreshed. There’s another place on my list that I have to check off. This is where I need to start being careful. I head to Landon’s house.

* * *

With a hard knock on the door, I take a step back. The door creaks open and he’s standing in front of me with a broken nose and black eye. I probably don’t look much better. “Get off my property,” he says, shutting the door in my face.

I knock again and wait. Nothing. I ring the doorbell and knock a third time. This time, he opens it violently. “I said, get the fuck off my property. I’m not your ‘brother’ anymore. So just leave, alright?” He doesn’t slam the door. Instead, he actually waits for me to speak.

“Wait,” I tell him. “Just hear me out. I came to apologize.” The word “apologize” stings as it leaves my mouth. There’s nothing I hate more than apologizing for things I don’t think are my fault. Still, it’s what needs to be done this time. I have to bow in humility. Well, it’s either that, or I pummel the guy. I could just go that route…

“Apologize? For what? It’s like you’ve been saying all along, right? I hit you first,” he says, waiting for me to say the wrong thing.

“I messed up the dynamic between us. I should have told you what was happening. I shouldn’t have brought it onto the field,” I tell him. “If you want me to leave, I’ll leave. But know that I wanted to make things right before the big game.”

“They probably won’t let you play. You know that?” he asks, smiling a little. I know his game. He’s trying to rile me up, but it won’t work this time. I’m over it all.

“So be it. It was a dream of mine to play, but there’s more important things in life.” I sigh, shaking my head.

“Fine. Come in.” He turns and walks to his living room. When he sits down, he reaches over to the small mini bar and pulls out two beers. He tosses me one and cracks open his. I do the same and take a sip.

“You really believe all that good-natured crap you’ve been spewing?” he asks me. His nose looks bad, like I broke it in multiple places or something. How good-natured was my punch?

“It’s not exactly about being good-natured. It’s about standing for what I believe to be true,” I tell him. “Besides, the only time it affected my game was when I got sick. Shit, I think our fighting affected us the most.”

“I guess it did, huh?” He laughs and looks out the window for a second. “You know, I actually wanted you dead.”

“Yeah, I figured. I probably had similar thoughts,” I say. “Anyway, Fiona dumped my ass, so you’ll be happy to know that she’s basically out of my life.”

He shrugs and chugs the rest of his beer, crunching the can in his hand. “Fuck it,” he says. “I don’t care what you do. I was just jealous, man. I missed our hangouts. I missed those days when Misty would come over with some friends, and we’d get all loaded up and have fun. I guess we’re getting older, though. Can’t party forever.”

“We can party until we’re 80 years old. Only, someday I’m going to have a wife. I assume you will too. We’ll have to party in different ways, I guess,” I tell him, standing up and finishing my beer. “Look man, she broke my heart. That’s the truth. But I’m aiming to get her back. The reason I came here is to say that I’m done fighting with you. I want to be cool again. Can we make up?”

“Shit.” He sighs. “I hate this emotional bullshit. You know that.”

“I do,” I laugh. “But it’s happening whether you like it or not, so take it or leave it.”

After a few seconds of biting his tongue, he reaches out his hand. I grab it and shake it. “I’m sorry,” I tell him. “Are we cool?”

“We’re cool, man,” he says. “But, at the end of the day, I’m the sorry one. I was an asshole. I guess that’s why you shattered my nose, huh?”

“Yeah, that wasn’t exactly planned. Sorry about that, brother.” I also bite my tongue.

I walk toward the door and take a deep breath. “Go get her,” he tells me. “Make her yours.”

“I’ve done what I can for now,” I say. “Right now we have to make sure we can play this game. You ready to sit down with the league? It’s going to be rough.”

“Shit, man. I’m always ready to fight for my right to play,” he says. “Let’s do it.”

I phone up coach Scott Stern, saying, “Coach, it’s Jackson and Landon. We’ve managed to put everything behind us. We want to talk.”