“Taylor, can I talk to you outside?”
“Sure,” she agrees.
She loves me? If it’s true and she does love me, it isn’t something I wanted to hear from my sister, it’s something I wanted to hear from Taylor, but now isn’t the time to talk about love or us.
If we were ever going to have a relationship, which we’re not, I would have to accept that my sister would know everything, so it’s a good thing Taylor and I can’t be together, and it’s also a good thing I plan on leaving Calton for good.
Taylor follows me out to the garden, and I turn to face her. “Why did you spill your guts to my dad and Chelsea? I didn’t tell anyone about what was going on in my life for a good reason.”
“Good reason? Kayden Rush threatened to kill you. His exact words were ‘Tell him to call off his dogs. If he doesn’t, more than his career will be over’. You weren’t picking up your phone. You just vanished from the cabin. What was I supposed to think? Supposed to do?”
“You weren’t supposed to think or do anything. I don’t have to tell you where I’m going or what I’m doing or who I’m doing it with. We might have fucked a few times, but that doesn’t mean you own me.” I’m being a bastard, I know it, but I can’t seem to stop directing my anger towards her. I want her to hold me, I want her to tell me everything will be okay but closing the gap between us would be like walking off a cliff.
Her lips twist downward, and her brow furrows as if she’s about to lose it. “What are you going to do, cry?”
She narrows her lips and shakes her head in exasperation. “You’re not worth my tears. And to think I love you. I hope to God in time that love fades because you don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve me. Why do you push people away, Aaron? You pushed your dad away. The man who did everything for you and made you the man you are today. Made you the player you are today.
“You’ve never had a relationship. You prefer one-night stands and friends who have fun. Why are you so afraid of opening up and committing? I feel sorry for you.”
“Save your sympathy. You don’t know anything about me, Taylor. Stop trying to psychoanalyze me.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I do know you. I know deep inside you need your dad’s approval. I know when you lost your mom, it almost killed you. Stop pushing people away because if you keep doing it, you’ll find out soon enough that you’ll have no one to turn to when you need them.”
“I don’t need anyone. I never have and never will.”
She lifts her head to the sky and blinks several times like she’s doing her best not to cry.
“Fine,” she says her voice cracking. “I get it.” A single tear slides down her cheek, and I ache to wipe it away. To kiss her. To tell her I’m sorry, that I didn’t mean anything I said. That’s she’s right, I don’t deserve her, but I’m too chicken-shit to do any of that.
“We done here?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she replies. “We’re done. More than done.” She turns to go into the house, but before she does, she looks back at me. “Time to get in your car and run back to UCLA, Aaron. See how many people up there care about you or believe you. I know you didn’t do what they’re saying. But you’re so stuck up your own ass, you won’t even ask for help from the people who love you.” With that, she walks into the house.
I close my eyes and touch my hand to my chest, trying to ease the pain in my heart. She’s right about some things but wrong about others. The reason I don’t let people in is because people let me down and I’m fed up with people letting me down. My dad, Kayden, Coach Davis…and even my mom.
I’ve had enough. I’m not hanging around Calton waiting for my dad to call the family meeting to order. Hanging around here is a waste of time. I blew it with Taylor just like I blew my career. I’m a has been. The washed-up cliché I never wanted to become.
***
On the way out of town, I think about going to the high school stadium where I used to play and sit on the bleachers for a while.
I can almost see the glare of the Friday Night Lights. Feel the excitement in the pit of my stomach when the guys and I walked through the tunnel. The flow of the adrenaline when twenty-seconds was on the clock with one last chance to score. Hear the roar of the home crowd when we scored a touchdown.
All that’s gone now. It’s in my history. I’ll never walk through the tunnel again with my brothers in arms.
I decide against going to the stadium and go to a backstreet liquor store instead.
I buy a bottle of Jack and a bottle of Fireball. I’m not a liquor drinker, but I need something to make me forget, if only for a few hours.
Since I decided against going to my old high school, I drive to the beach. There’s a place my mom used to take me to when I was a kid. She said it was our special spot and that no one else knew about. Whether that was true or not, I don’t know, but I’ve never seen anyone else on this stretch of sand.
I sit by the ocean and knock back the Fireball, not caring that it burns my throat and strips my stomach lining. The only thing I care about is that it numbs me.
Fuck Taylor.
Fuck my dad.
Fuck Kayden.
And fuck football.
I don’t care about any of them. I don’t care about anything.
If only that were true.
Sometime during the night, I pass out and only wake when the rising sun shines on my face and cold waves lap around my body. I jump up and hold my head trying to ease the pain reverberating through my skull.
I’m soaked to the bone, and I count myself lucky I didn’t drown or die from alcohol poisoning. I glance to my left and see an empty bottle of Fireball and a half-empty bottle of Jack.
Now I know why I don’t drink liquor. My mouth feels like a rat died in there. Fire fills my stomach and grit fills my eyes.
“You’re awake.”
Awesome. My dad’s here. He’s the last person I want to see or talk to.
I slowly turn my head, but even that hurts. “I don’t want to do this right now.”
He puts his hands on his hips like he does when he’s coaching the Wildcats. “Too bad, Son. It’s time we cleared the air.”
“Great,” I mumble and sag to the sand.
My dad sits a few inches from me. “Y’know, I never meant to be that dad. Never meant to alienate my only son. I know none of this is your fault. I’m sorry if you think I do. I’m guessing that’s why you didn’t come to me.”
“You know what’s going on?” I force out a laugh. “How could you not? It’s all over the place.”
“I’m not paying any attention to what anyone has to say, but I did talk to Coach Davis.”
I say nothing and wait for him to continue. I can’t remember the last time my dad and I talked without tension or had a conversation that didn’t revolve around football and how pathetic I was.
“You think I was too hard on you growing up?” my dad asks.
Only every single day of my life.
I lift my eyes and stare at the wispy clouds floating across the sky. “You want me to lie or you want me to tell the truth?”
“What do you think?”
I don’t look at him when I talk. “From the day I could hold a ball, you never let up. In your eyes I can never do anything right. The way I pass the ball is wrong. The way I kick is wrong. Hell, even the way I breathe is sometimes wrong.”
Who knows why I’m opening up to him this way. Is it because of everything that’s happened over the past few weeks? Is it because I have nothing to lose? Is it because I’m fed up not telling my dad how I really feel? Or is it because, like Taylor said, it’s time to stop running?
“That’s horseshit.”
I sigh and give my head a small shake. What’s the point in having this conversation with him if he’s going to get defensive at everything I say? The easy thing to do would be to drop it. Walk away. But I’ve never been one for easy.
“It’s not horseshit and you know it,” I say, quietly.
“From before you were born, I’ve loved you. I love both you kids.”
“The love you have for me is different than the love you have for Chels.”
“I’m not going to be able to convince you otherwise, am I?”
“Nope.” Since we’re doing this, I decide to get a few more things off my chest. “Thanks for saying you don’t blame me. But, it’s time for you to take a step back. I can’t be who you want me to be. I’m not you. You can’t live your dreams through me anymore. I fucked up, and now I’ll be lucky if I ever play ball again.”
My dad frowns. “What makes you think I’m trying to live my dreams through you?”
“You didn’t make the pros, and because of that you were determined I would.”
In a soft voice, he says, “I thought it was your dream, too. I thought it was what you wanted.”
I blow out a breath and focus on keeping my voice low and level. I don’t want either of us to raise our voices and get into another fight. I’m done with fighting. “It is what I wanted—what I want—but sometimes God has a different plan, and right now his plan for me isn’t the pros.”
“Bullshit. God has nothing to do with this. We’ll get your shoulder fixed. Get that crap out of your body. You were born to play football, and that’s what you’re going to do.”
“It’ll take at least four years before the level of steroids in my body is within acceptable levels. I’ll be almost twenty-seven.”
“Like that, you’re just going to give up? One thing I never took you for, Son, was being a quitter.”
“I’m not a quitter. I’m a realist, not a dreamer. I’m not going to spend the best years of my life chasing after something I might not get. I don’t want to grow old and bitter at what could have been.”
“You sayin’ I’m old and bitter?
“You know I’m not.”
My dad stops talking and stares ahead as if he’s deep in thought as if he’s considering his next move, his next play. “Truth be told, when you committed to UCLA, my already broken heart shattered. I wanted everyone to know my son the quarterback. I guess—I guess I wanted some of your glory. With your brains and skill, you could have been a quarterback for the history books. Stupid right?”
“Not stupid. Whatever success I had was because of you,” I admit. “Because of how you pushed me to always try better, be more. A very smart person told me that.” A very smart person I walked away from one too many times and who I treated like crap.
We both sit in silence until my dad says, “When your mom died, I lost my way, I admit that. I was hard on you kids. I wanted to assert some kind of control in our lives because it felt like I was spiraling. I was too much of a coach and not enough of a dad.”
“More like a dictator.”
“That’s a low blow.” He shakes his head and stares at his feet. “I had two teenage kids, a college football team to coach, and a broken heart. I loved your mom like no one else.”
“Our hearts were breaking, too—mine and Chelsea’s. Honestly, Dad, I feel like you blamed me because you weren’t by mom’s side when she passed.”
“What? No. Why would you say that?”
“Because it’s how I feel.”
“I’ve never admitted this to a soul,” he says, his voice wavering. “I didn’t want to be at her bedside when she left us. For the longest time, I was angry at myself for feeling that way. I couldn’t deal with her leaving this world. I’m a coward. I’m glad you were there with her. You’re much stronger than I am.”
Hearing my dad talk like this shocks me, and I have to take a second to breathe before I answer. “One thing you’re not is a coward, Dad. You’re the strong one. The one who always knows what to do in any given situation.”
“I wish that were true.” His voice sounds sad and tired. “You and your sister are the strong ones.”
“How so?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“Look at Chelsea, she’s a champion cheerleader with a 4.0 average and is going to marry a man she loves. A good man. You—”
“Messed everything up.”
“That’s not what I was going to say. If anyone else had to deal with what you’re dealing with now, they wouldn’t make it. I know I sure as shit wouldn’t make it, but you’re fighting to clear your name.” He reaches out and places a hand on my back. “I’m proud of you, Son. I don’t say that enough, and I’ll support you in any way I can. We’ll find a solution together.”
Tears rush to my eyes, and I know if I try to speak now, I’ll cry, so I nod and clear my throat. “I’m proud of you, Dad. Proud of everything you’ve achieved and everything you’ve done for us.”
“If it comes down to it, I can always use another assistant coach. If anyone can whip those pussies into shape, it’s you.”
I shake my head and laugh at the humor in his voice. “We’ll see. I might just take you up on that offer.” We both sit in silence, lost in our thoughts, but then I break the silence by asking, “When you talked to Coach Davis, what did he say?”
“Said you refused shoulder surgery and went looking for a cure. You ended up getting shot full of steroids instead of the cortisone you asked for.”
“Sounds about right.” I don’t mention Kayden or his cousin, I don’t know why I don’t, but now doesn’t feel like the right time. I hug my arms around my knees. “How’d you know I’d be here?”
“This is the place your mom would come to when she needed some time away from you crazy kids and from me. Mainly me. Plus, Sheriff McCabe saw your car parked not too far away.”
I laugh. “And she told me this was our special place.”
“It was. She never brought Chelsea here. Or me. But she always told me where she was going in case I had to come get her, or if anything happened.”
“Dad,” I say and swallow. “I need your help. I need to fix this, but I don’t know how.”
“I want you to go see Jim, the team doctor. Talk to him about your shoulder and what we can do to get the level of steroids in your body down. I also want you to think about transferring to Calton.”
“The doctor yes. But I can’t come back here.”
“Why not? Your pride? We’re going to fix this together. You don’t have to do this on your own miles away from home. I know you think you’re alone, but you’re not. I’ve let you down, and I want to make it right.”
Unrestrained tears slide down my face, and I don’t try to hide them. Dad wraps his arms around my shoulders and hugs me to him. “Dad, I fucked up. I fucked everything up.”
“We all mess up at one time or another, but there’s nothing we can’t face together as a family. We’ve got your back.”
I nod and wipe my eyes. Now that I’ve cleared the air with my dad, I have to somehow—and I don’t know how—clear the air with Taylor.