Nothing looked the same to Elliott as he climbed the steps to his front door. The house itself resembled some foreign object with slopes and edges he’d never noticed before. Had there always been a window there? What was the name of the person who came by once a week to cut the grass? He had none of this knowledge, but honestly, he hadn’t given a shit before now. Even the air felt different filtering through his hair, cooling the skin still heated from having Peggy beneath him.
Peggy.
His hands paused in the act of unlocking the door. He could see the way she’d sat up on the bench, looking like a beauty queen who’d been ravaged backstage, just before the talent competition. Shell-shocked, those eyes wider than the end of a cannon. A cannon pointed directly at the center of his chest.
I’ve been dead inside. I’m dead.
He might have been ready to blow when those words came out, but that didn’t make them any less true. He’d walked this same path to his house every day since moving in—right on the heels of Peggy’s departure—and yet, he’d never truly looked at it. If he closed his eyes, he wouldn’t even be able to describe the color of any surrounding homes or what cars his neighbors drove. Now, details were piling on top of him like falling bricks, battering out of the concussed state he’d been existing in. The smell of someone on the block nursing a fire in their hearth. Oncoming rain carried on the air. None of it went unregistered.
A vision of himself in the hospital bed—instead of Judith—hit Elliott. There was no one in the room with him. Just four empty walls and a single, vacant chair. How long have I been asleep? he asked the doctor.
“Fuck,” Elliott breathed, twisting the key in the lock and opening the front door. Silence greeted him, which was nothing new, but it was denser than usual. He could feel it parting as he walked through it, down the hallway, like hands traveling over his shoulders and ribs.
Instead of going to the living room and setting down his keys, as his routine usually dictated, Elliott stopped outside of Alice’s room and listened, hearing nothing, which seemed to be a running theme among the women in his life. He and Peggy had barely exchanged a word as he walked her back to the hotel. Granted, he hadn’t exactly been in the mood for a chat—had he ever been?—after having so many…layers stripped off inside the park. Layers he’d thought were just hardened parts of him that people could either take or leave. He’d never expected to voluntarily shed them all his own.
Or have it feel amazing. Overdue.
Peggy didn’t seem to share that sentiment, though, did she? She’d all but given him whiplash bypassing him into the revolving hotel door. And he’d just stood by like a mute referee, refusing to make a call, despite the new…things…slowly but surely making themselves known in his gut. Things that weren’t right and hadn’t been for a long time, but he’d been sleepwalking past and ignoring them.
When Elliott walked into the living room and tossed his keys into the ceramic bowl whose origin he had no idea about, he was surprised to find Alice sitting on the couch, illuminated by nothing but a low-lit lamp.
He started to ask her if she’d finished eating, if she was still hungry, but suddenly he could recognize those questions exactly for what they were. A way to avoid what had happened over dinner. A way to avoid everything. Even knowing his methods weren’t productive, he almost used them anyway, they were so firmly ingrained. But taking a deep breath, he took a seat on the chair opposite Alice instead, and clasped his hands loosely between his knees. “You all right?”
Eyes the same shape as his own widened in shock. “I don’t know,” she answered tightly, crossing her arms over the pillow sitting on her lap. “Were you with…her?”
“Yes.”
Her breath released in a whoosh. “Don’t bother softening the blow or anything.”
Elliott sighed. “Peggy and I are adults.”
“Sure, now you are.” Her upper lip curled. “She wasn’t, though. Not back then.”
“Yes, even back then,” he corrected her, hearing the disgust in his voice, leveled right at himself. “I didn’t always treat her like one, though.”
Alice stared at Elliott for so long across the magazine-littered coffee table, he had to look away. “Is it true what she said? You guys weren’t together when Mom was still alive?”
Tears were thick in Alice’s voice by the end of her question, but she was clearly attempting to control them, probably for his sake. Something that never would have bothered him before, but now made him wonder why a twelve-year-old felt like she needed to be strong around her father. You know why. You’ve been a cold bastard to everyone. “Yes, she was telling the truth. I—you’ll understand when you get older—”
“Oh God. Fuck that.” She threw the pillow aside. “Just talk to me for once. We can pretend tomorrow like it never happened.”
Elliott shifted on the couch, the desperation in his daughter’s tone making something sharpen in his chest. And for the first time, he understood what one of his players felt like when he leaned down and got in their face during halftime. But this had to be worse, right? Because he had no idea how to correct his mistakes in the second half of the game. No damn clue. “What do you want to know?”
Alice didn’t quite manage to hide her shock over being given the green light. “Did you love Mom?”
He scraped a hand over his five o’clock shadow and thought back in a way he hadn’t in a long time, remembering polite smiles in the kitchen, falling asleep at his home office with game film running only to wake up and find morning had moved in. “My relationship with your mother was more of a friendship, Alice,” Elliott said finally. “I don’t think either of us were romantic people. We were practical. We had similar goals, but a lot of the time…those goals kept us separated. Love…”
When he trailed off with a head shake, Alice huffed, but her eyes were serious, watching him closely. “Do you even know what love is?”
“You don’t ask easy questions, do you?”
“Your players say the same thing about you.” She picked at the material of her flannel pajama pants. “But I have to read about it in magazines or see it on television. I don’t know firsthand.”
“Would you…be interested in something like that?” He gestured in the general direction of the university, then quickly joined his hands together. “Watching me coach up close?”
“No,” Alice scoffed. Shrugged. “Maybe.”
How many roller coaster loops could he handle in one night? “I promise to have it arranged. For the Temple game.” He watched two big blooms of color appear in her cheeks and the tugging in his chest pulled taut. “Is there anything else?”
“Yes,” she said quickly, as if she was afraid she might lose her nerve. “You said you’re not a romantic person, that you’re practical. But…what about Peggy? She’s not practical at all.”
Elliott couldn’t contain a wry laugh. “No, she’s not.” He raked a hand down his face, picturing her in the doorway of his stadium office, charging in and refusing to take no for an answer about the fund-raiser, seducing him into agreeing to make a speech. Wearing a foursome of engagement rings around her neck, for the love of God. “She’s the opposite of practical.”
“And yet, you…”
He waited for Alice to elaborate, but she ended the question with a wave of her hand, no longer meeting his eyes. Sure, leave me without any direction, he thought. This whole conversation was beyond him already. Trying to simplify the connection he had with Peggy into words was impossible, wasn’t it? He’d never even articulated it to himself. “I was at the bottom of the ocean. Everything was dark…and then Peggy showed up. She was the surface. And I finally saw something to kick toward.” He cleared his throat. “I know that doesn’t make sense—”
“Keep going.” Alice shrugged. “Just keep going.”
Oddly enough, he wanted to keep going, while at the same time dreading what he might find. There was a tingle at the back of his neck, telling him he was on the verge of something uncharted. A game changer, as he would call it in the locker room. But the game wasn’t supposed to change off the field. Not for him. “Peggy. She, uh…looked at me and saw things I didn’t know were there. And she didn’t judge me for them. That’s a rare thing among adults.” He swallowed the tennis ball in his throat. “She was selfless while I was selfish. I could say things to her no one else understood. But she already knew what I was going to say.”
Alice stared. “Did you have that with Mom?”
“No.” He held her gaze. “And I’m sorry about it, Alice.”
She nodded and seemed to collect herself. “Did you do the same for Peggy? Could she tell you things?”
Someone might as well have taken a fishing line and pulled it tight around his jugular, the pressure was suddenly so intense. “Some of the time. The thing about Peggy is, she doesn’t let you know when she needs you. Not until you’ve already missed your chance.” In hindsight, he could imagine how hard it must have been for a young woman to cope with a widower boyfriend. Yet she’d never shown a hint of jealousy, only compassion. Under the surface, though, she could have been suffering and he’d been too blind to notice. “Mostly I took what she gave me and squandered it.”
Alice looked away, but not before he saw horror pass over her features. Horror he was gratified to see, because he damn well deserved it. “Sometimes I say things because I’m upset and I don’t mean them, like, two seconds later. Do you have that?”
“Everyone has that. Especially in our bloodline.” He leaned forward and snagged a coaster off the coffee table, tapping it against the edge. “You’ll apologize to her.”
“Yeah,” she said loudly, tipping her face toward the ceiling. “What about you? Have you apologized to her for…the squandering?”
“It’s too late.” A python coiled around his rib cage. “I’d only make it worse.”
He could practically hear Alice shuffling through responses in her head. She looked about as hollow as he felt. Nothing like the buoyancy he’d glimpsed in his daughter while she cooked with Peggy in the kitchen. Or when she’d emerged from the auditorium bathroom that afternoon, the sagging quality of her shoulders long gone.
Thinking back on those two recent memories, Elliott acknowledged something important. He’d felt no guilt when looking at Peggy now. No sense of failure within himself, like he had during his darkest period. He’d driven her away because she’d eclipsed the love he’d felt for anyone prior. She’d forced him too close to forgiving himself when he hadn’t been ready. But none of that useless resentment lingered inside him now. When he looked at Peggy now, all he saw was the light his soul had been missing. God, he missed her.
“You’re probably right. It’s too late,” Alice finally murmured, picking up the remote control and flipping on the television. Animal Planet hummed at a low volume while he hoped for her to continue, but she took her sweet time. “She’s way out of your league anyway.”
Elliott barked a laugh, sending Alice jumping a good few inches into the air. But after his initial amusement faded—and it faded fast—his skin felt raw, stretched out. “Is this reverse psychology you’re attempting with me?”
“Nope.” His daughter browsed channels without looking at him. “Seriously, the sooner she leaves, the better. You don’t have time for some high-maintenance cheerleader type.” She made a sour face. “She’d probably want to go on dates. God, can you imagine yourself on a date?”
He really couldn’t help it now, could he? The image projected itself before he could stop it. Him and Peggy sitting across from one another in a restaurant, her skin glowing in the candlelight. His hand would rest on her knee beneath the table, holding it still—commanding her attention—when she started to bounce with energy. Walking her to the car afterward tucked into his side. Absurd. The whole idea was absurd.
His stomach churned like a wheel stuck in mud.
“Just lay low for a couple more days and she’ll be gone again. She probably won’t make it two miles before someone who loves dates asks her on one.”
The python squeezed. “Okay, now I know this is reverse psychology.”
“Yeah, okay, whatever. Doesn’t stop it from being the truth.” Alice left the television on an infomercial about some revolutionary shampoo and faced him. “You need to focus on football, right? Peggy would only distract you.”
His nod was stilted. “Right.”
“So let her go distract someone else who doesn’t mind.” Sadness passed over Alice’s features. “Someone who’ll appreciate her.”
I appreciate her. I just didn’t realize how much.
That same odd sense of vertigo Elliott had experienced while walking to the house hit him again. He was lying there in a hospital bed, listening to someone relate the events that had taken place while he’d been under. She left you, sir. Don’t you remember her getting into the cab? It’s been three years since you fell asleep. Like tree roots gnarling around his organs at warp speed. Being without him had been difficult for Peggy…but until now he hadn’t allowed himself to admit he’d been a zombie since she’d gone.
Let her go distract someone else. Someone who’ll appreciate her.
I appreciate her now, though. I understand the loss I’ve been living with. Am I just going to live with this new awareness? Or fucking do something about it?
Peggy could do infinitely better than a man who’d inflicted damage on such a beautiful soul. God. For that alone, he deserved a lifetime of being without her. He could go back to being a member of the living dead, going through the motions, claiming he’d already lost the game. Or he could rally and fight for what he needed. For his woman.
Keeping her in Cincinnati.
Allowing himself to admit what he wanted only brought into perspective what a long shot it was. A hundred-yard field goal. Maybe he should hope for a more realistic outcome, but he wouldn’t be satisfied with anything less than having Peggy here. With him. Whether she went to New York and returned. Or never left. Right now, he just needed to focus on earning the right to be a part of that decision at all. Then he would take another step, and another, until she saw he’d walk a million miles to keep her.
Ten minutes later when Elliott closed himself in his office, opening a fresh notepad, it wasn’t football that demanded his focus.
No, it was an entirely new set of plays. He’d need to execute every single one of them to perfection if he wanted to win.