Blitzed(64)

Another groan goes through the crowd as a San Francisco runner blasts his way into the end zone, and the Hawks are down six to nothing. "See? Even with only two yards to score, the Dons are scared of him. They ran that ball as far away from Troy as they could."



Troy comes out of the locker room, and I feel my heart twinge seeing the hurt and defeat in his shoulders. He's not wearing his normal clothes, having ditched the typical Hawks clothes he'd worn the other times he came back home for a pair of jeans and an obviously borrowed Tommy Hilfiger polo. Seeing me, his head sags and he comes over. "I guess you heard."

"Yeah," I reply. "I sent Laurie home with Dani. She doesn't need to see you like this. Besides, we need to talk."

"About what?" Troy asks, suddenly curious and suspicious. "About the trade?"

"About the trade, about keeping information from me, and about Laurie's future," I say, trying to control my emotions. I can see that Troy's hurt, which makes this all the more difficult. I'm only a little angry, but it's the other emotions that are swirling inside me that make me want to hurl right now. "When were you going to tell me that the team was shopping you around? Kardarelli told me you knew about it weeks ago."

Troy takes a deep breath. "I was hoping it was just a threat. It was still the pre-season, you and I had just gotten back together, and we'd already been through so much. We hadn't even told Laurie about me yet. I just . . . I kept hoping that maybe someone would shake free in the waiver wire from another team, or that the line would gel. Worse came to worst, I thought that maybe if I played my heart out, I'd make myself too damn valuable to the team for them to consider trading me."

I think about it, and Troy's words make sense. I can't help but frown, though, and shake my head. "You realize this performance you've been putting on for two months has actually probably made you even more attractive to other teams? They know that they've got a superstar on their hands. But you're not the type of man who'd intentionally tank a game."

Troy shakes his head, then steps closer. "No, I'm not. But it's not all bad, right? I mean, Jacksonville's got good weather, and the home prices are lower. We can—"

"There isn't going to be a we," I say, trying not to cry. "Laurie and I . . . we can't go with you, Troy. I can't put her through it."

"Through what?" Troy asks in obvious pain. I've broken his heart once before, and I can see in his eyes the fear that I'm doing it again. But I can't let myself be swayed. As much as I love him, I must protect my daughter.

"Through being a football player's family, having to up and move cities all the time. Never mind the fact that I know the reality—every time you step on that field, you are risking career-ending injury. And while you might not be injured now, that doesn't mean it can't happen. What happens if some bad ass tight end catches you from behind, or your foot is planted just wrong when you go to tackle some running back? What if you end up like Gerald, five teams in six years?"

"That's the life of a football player," Troy says softly. "But that doesn't mean that I can't provide a good life for you and for Laurie. Please, Whitney. I know it means asking you to leave a job you just started, but we're a family now, aren't we?"

It's my turn to feel my heart breaking, and I force myself to shake my head. "Troy, as much as I love you . . . I can't do that to Laurie. She needs a stable home, the knowledge that she's going to be going to the same school, a chance to make friends. I can't uproot her again. I’ve already had to do it once. With the idea that I might need to do that again and again over the course of her elementary school years, never mind if you play long enough for her to get to junior high school—"

"So what are you saying? You want me to come back to Silver Lake Falls in the offseason? I can do that," Troy says, desperate now, and I know he's grasping at straws, trying to find some way to avoid what I'm trying to say. “I love you and Laurie both. Don’t do this.”

"I have to," I whisper. "I won't ask you to quit being who you are. You’re the best damn football player in the league, and you are born for that field and this sport. But I can't follow you around. Laurie is young. Her feelings will heal. Maybe she'll forget some of it. But I can't have her dragged around the country like a piece of luggage. It's not fair to her."

"I—I can't just let you two go,” Troy says, his voice quavering. "I need you. Don't you realize the difference between last season and this season? It's you. You are the reason I'm doing so well. You are the heart of me, and I can't give up my heart any more than I could ask you to give up Laurie. Don’t do this. Not again.”

I try to answer, and I can't. Instead, I turn and run like a coward, leaving Troy behind. Getting to the car, I have to take a minute to clear my eyes before I can drive home, and I’m thankful that the players’ parking lot is in a different area.

It's perhaps fitting, then, that as I drive, the skies cloud up, and when I get back to Silver Lake Falls, the rain is falling like my tears. Because if Troy had asked me just one more time, I might have said yes, and I can't do that. It's not about me, after all. It's about Laurie.