My mom was the happiest she’d been, not just since Brandon split, but since Dad had. Cory was putting her up in a five-star rehab center in Northern California that frequently housed the rich and famous, and she was tickled pink, not just at the chance of running into one of them, but at really changing.
I’m going to be a better woman, she’d told me on the phone last night, though I’d been too fucked up to really listen. A better mom for you.
She was packing her bags, getting ready to leave tomorrow, a check to repay the loan I’d taken out, and then some, already in the mail and on its way to me.
And even though it was my money, even though it was me who’d loaned it to her and therefore deserved it coming back to me — it felt like dirty money, like it had blood on it, too.
You’re doing the right thing, son.
Those were the words Cory said over the phone yesterday morning when I’d agreed to his deal after not having slept or ate or done anything but stare at the wall of my bedroom. I could almost imagine him clapping me on the shoulder with pride.
And I hoped he was right. I hoped this would be what was best for my mom, that I could finally give her even an ounce of all that she’d given me over my life. She had sacrificed so much for me — her youth, her body, her time and energy. I’d never seen her buy something for herself, not in all the years she raised me, because every dollar she had either went to bills or to me — mostly so I could play football.
And so, I would sacrifice for her. Over and over again, no matter how much it took.
But it didn’t make any of it hurt any less.
Maliyah lit up like fireworks on the Fourth of July when I told her I wanted to try again, and she confessed to me how heartbreaking it had been to watch me with Giana. I told her it was all just a ruse to get her back, and she had smiled with the satisfaction of knowing she’d won.
It was an awful, disgusting lie — one I couldn’t seal with anything more than a hug, which I was surprised didn’t make Maliyah suspicious. I told her I wanted to take it slow.
The truth was that I couldn’t imagine ever kissing anyone who wasn’t Giana ever again.
So, Mom was happy, and Maliyah, and Cory, too.
But I was miserable.
And so was Giana.
That was enough for me to wonder if I’d made the right decision, after all.
When I closed my eyes to try to sleep last night, nightmarish visions of Giana beating on my chest kept me awake. I could hear her cries, see the tears staining her cheeks as she begged me not to break her heart.
And she knew, even without me saying a word — she knew it wasn’t me in that moment.
How she knew, I’d never understand. But even as I stared at her unwavering and told her we were finished, she somehow fought through her own pain to try to shake me awake, to try to make me put myself first.
That was what fucked me up the most, the fact that even at my worst, she somehow saw through it all to my true heart.
But what she didn’t understand was that this wasn’t about sticking up for myself against Maliyah, or even my father. This was about caring for the one person who had cared for me.
It wasn’t the time to put myself first.
And one day, I hoped there would come a time where I could tell her everything, make her understand.
Until then, I was committed to my misery.
“…next game. That’s where our focus needs to be. We’re not out of this race — not even close. We’re all but guaranteed a bowl game at this point,” Holden said as I came to, realizing I’d missed the first half of his speech. “Mark your mistakes, fix them, and come back hungry for more. We all have our jobs to do. Win as a team, lose as a team,” he said, pausing. “And fight as a team.”
Coach Sanders watched the speech unfold in the corner of the locker room, his arms folded. He clearly wasn’t happy with how the game played out, either, but he let his captain take full control.
All around the locker room, players nodded their heads, fierce determination etched in their brows as they gathered around where Holden had extended his hand. They covered it with theirs, and Holden’s eyes met mine, the signal for me to take over and yell out one of our team chants.
But I didn’t have it in me.
I sniffed, looking down at my hand at the top of the pile.
“Fight on three,” Holden said. “One, two—”
“Fight!”
The team’s response echoed around us for only a moment before the gentle murmur of talking and packing up filled the space, some heading toward the training rooms or showers, while others opted to just go home.
Holden was at my side before I could so much as untie my cleats.
“Let’s take a walk,” he said, and he didn’t wait for me to confirm before he was sauntering out of the locker room.
I begrudgingly followed him, and since the field was still covered in fans, players from the other team, and the media circus, he steered me toward the weight room.
“Sit,” he said, pointing at a bench. When I did, he hung his hands on his hips, staring at the ground for a moment before he looked at me. “What happened?”
“I don’t—”
“I don’t care if you don’t want to talk about it. You’re a part of this team, and you’re a big reason why we pulled an L today. You were shit in coverage, and giving us twenty percent of your all, at best.”
I was ashamed at how spot on that assessment was.
“So, as captain, it’s my job to figure out what’s going on whether you want me to or not. You can either tell me now, or I can make your life a living hell every practice until you do.”
I flattened my lips. “What, you going to make me run laps?”
“If that’s what it takes.”
I shook my head, balancing my elbows on my knees as my shoulders drooped. “It’s family shit. Nothing I want to share with anyone — no offense.”
“Did someone die?”
I frowned at him. “What? No. And that was a little harsh, Cap.”
“I need to know how serious this is.”
“Why, so you can replace me?”
He gave me a look that echoed his earlier sentiment.
If that’s what it takes.
I ran a hand back through my hair, sitting up straight again. “I broke up with Giana. I’m back with Maliyah. My mom is going to rehab. My dad is a piece of shit who couldn’t care less about any of it, and if you push me off my spot, I swear to God, I’ll kill you, Holden, because you’d be ripping away the only source of joy I have. Football is my lifeline,” I said, surprised at the way my throat tightened with the words. “It’s… it’s all I have left.”
I met his gaze then, chest heaving, and something softer washed over his expression as he watched me in return.
“You’re back with Maliyah,” he said, choosing to ignore the rest.
I sniffed, looking at the ground again. “Yeah.”
“And that’s what you want?”
“Yep,” I lied, standing. “Can I go now, sergeant, or are you throwing me in the brig?”
Holden gave me a look that told me he clearly wasn’t amused by the joke, but still, he seemed satisfied enough to stop torturing me — at least for the day.