29
Blake
Two weeks later
I stepped off the plane and onto the tarmac in DC. The crisp air filled my nostrils. It was the closest anything had felt like home in a long time. It was fall. This was what seasons meant. Change. Movement. Football.
I didn’t get this in Florida. And for a quick second it reminded me of what I was missing on the island. Oyster roasts and hunting season. Bonfires in the backyard with my cousins drinking beer. Hauling wood inside the boat barn for the season to keep the stove going. All those things I did before I left for good. Before I traded my roots for a life in the AFA.
I was being fucking nostalgic for no reason. I shook my head. What in the hell was I doing?
Jones ran up behind me, slapping my back. “Ready to beat the Sharks?”
“Hell yeah.” I nodded. No one thought we had a chance. The Sharks were having a killer season.
Playing them at home wasn’t going to be easy. We were the warm-weather team invading their outdoor stadium like fish out of water. But I believed we could win. If the rest of the team got their heads out of their asses and played. We would win. We had every reason to believe it could happen.
I climbed onto the bus the team chartered to take us to the hotel. We had a light practice tonight and I had press meetings afterward. I knew what the questions would be. They were always the same. I had standard answers about the season. A way to explain why we were underperforming with exceptional talent. Our public relations director sat down with me before every press conference. He had scheduled the same meeting tonight after practice.
I sat back in the seat while the bus chugged forward with a puff of diesel. My legs were cramped in the small seat. I knew the one question that was coming tonight that I dreaded: where did I fit in that equation? Did I let the team down by not leading them to be something better? Was I responsible?
I heard the guys laughing and talking behind me. They played music and showed each other their social media posts. To them it was a game. They reveled in their celebrity status. The money that rolled in because they were professional athletes. But what they hadn’t figured out was that it was going to be short-lived if they didn’t start winning games. Contracts didn’t mean shit when the numbers were low.
I could let them learn the lesson the hard way, or I could tell them everything was on the line. We were nowhere near being in the lineup for the Super Bowl, but we had to eke out a winning season.
I didn’t hear Coach until he cleared his throat. “You look like a man lost deep in thought.”
“Yeah.”
“That’s supposed to be my job.” He switched seats, landing into the open spot next to me.
We hadn’t talked much this season. When the Thrashers first drafted me, Coach Benson took me under his wing. He included me in meetings. He asked me about the routes. We stayed late in the offices watching film together, ordering pizza and splitting a six-pack. And at some point, he handed over a majority of the offensive decisions to me. Most twenty-two-year-old men wouldn’t have been able to handle it, but he had faith in me. Faith I hadn’t known except from my own father.
“Just thinking about the game tomorrow.”
He nodded, chewing his gum with the side of his mouth. “Different season this year.”
“Yeah. It is.”
“Son, I’ve noticed something different about you.”
“What’s that?” I stared straight ahead.
“Usually you come back from your break a little different.”
“What are you trying to say?”
He slapped his knee. “Hell, I’ll stop sugar coating it and just say it. We all see it. You’re angry, Blake. Mean as a damn snake.”
“Warrior mentality.” I brushed off his comment. “This team is going to hell. They need someone to give them the reality shock to wake them up.”
“That’s not it.” He shook his head. “I’ve known you going on five years now and you’ve never been a son of a bitch like this. Hard working sure. Tough as nails. But not a dick to your teammates.”
My head cocked to the side. “Excuse me?”
“What happened? Is it grief? The fans? What is getting under your skin?”
“I’m good. What you see is determination to dig this team out of a losing season.”
“We’re almost at the hotel. After we check in if you want to grab a drink and talk you know my room is always open. I’m here for you. I’m never too busy for what’s going on in your life. Whatever it is.” He eyed me.
Maybe that was his problem. He was too worried about personal issues to look at the bigger scope of his team. It was falling apart.
“Thanks, Coach. We’re going to win tomorrow. That’s what I’m focused on.”
“Well, on the way to victory, maybe you could ease back a little on these guys. You’ve been riding them pretty hard the past couple of months. Just think about it.”
“Sure thing.”
He stood as the bus came to a stop in front of the hotel.
I hung back while everyone filed off and searched the luggage stack for their bags.
Finally, I joined them on the sidewalk and heaved my travel bag over my shoulder.
“Want to get a jog in?” Jones asked me.
“Nah. I think I’m going to review some Sharks film before practice.”
“Come on. It feels awesome out here. We can run and not even break a sweat in this weather.”
I shook him off. “Maybe later. I think I’m going to change a few of the plays. I’ve got to get that ready before practice.”
He shrugged. “Whatever. I’m running. Don’t let the Shark fans hear this, but I love DC.”
“Yeah, I won’t say anything.”
I headed to my room and locked the hotel door behind me.
The anger was there. It had been there ever since the wedding. Only I couldn’t think about it. I wouldn’t let myself dwell on it. I couldn’t give into it. But Coach had seen it and sensed it. Apparently the whole damn team had. And it was like a dam getting ready to break.
I wanted to unleash the resentment. I needed a place to bury the rage. So far that place had been on the field. I had run the team into the ground. I had barked and yelled. I had cursed in their faces and threatened them. I had come close to knocking a few to the ground.
And why? Because I let Sierra back in? Because for a few weeks out of the summer I stopped being the man I was and let myself be the man I used to be. An island guy with nothing but time on his hands. A guy who loved with his heart and soul. And it blew up in my face.
The instant I let my guard down she did what she had always done. She destroyed me. She ripped through my soul. It wasn’t one thing. It was lash after lash of layers of lies. The baby. My father’s role in our breakup. The inevitable way things were going to end a second time.
I stood at the window. I saw Jones take off on his run.
Coach was right even if I couldn’t say it at the time. Things had to change. I couldn’t carry this anger around. It was killing me and wrecking the team.
I wasn’t a man who lived with regrets. I had forgotten that.
The leaves across the street drifted to the ground. They held deep colors of auburn and scarlet. It was time to let go. Move on. Push forward. The summer was in my past.