The Crush (54)

“Really? You never knew?” Isabel asked dryly.

Anya snickered.

“I didn’t realize you felt that way when I played,” I said.

Mom slid her arm around my waist and leaned into me. “Yup. Being a parent is weird.”

In middle school and high school, football had always been my primary focus. But when I was younger, spring and summer were soccer and baseball. Fall was football and basketball. I dropped basketball and baseball as I moved into high school.

My mom was right, though. I’d always felt the weight of my last name every time I took a field or slipped on a uniform. Not because of my parents—they never made me feel like I had to play any particular sport. Any pressure I felt to be the best, to make a name for myself, came from me. But I never considered how my parents might have perceived it.

Willa wiggled to get down. Then she sprinted over to us, bypassing her mom and big sister. I stretched out my arms to catch her and swung her up high. Her delighted laughter had Isabel shaking her head.

“You’re almost too big for this,” I said, catching her easily.

Willa swiped at her sweaty face. “Did you see my pass to Luna? And how good I defended?”

“I did. Excellent job, Miss Hennessy.”

She beamed. “Uncle Jude helped us practice. He said…” She paused. “He said I need to watch the ball, not their feet.”

“It’s very helpful to have an uncle who used to play soccer.”

“They call it football everywhere but here,” she corrected seriously. “Too bad you can’t help me be a better soccer player. You only know how to play the other football, and I’m not gonna play that.”

Anya laughed. Isabel watched her youngest daughter with warmth in her eyes.

“Ouch. Why not? Girls can play whatever sport they want, and I’ll beat up anyone who says you can’t.”

She sighed. “That’s what Grandpa says too. But that’s not why I don’t want to play.” Her eyes got wide. “Concussions are very serious, Uncle Emmett. I don’t want brain damage.”

This was the stuff I missed out on living on the other side of the country. I’d always missed it, even before Adaline. And after my morning with her left us, yet again, on unsteady ground, it was hard for me to weigh whether I’d be ready to uproot my life without her as the main reason.

Willa cupped the sides of my face, and I held very still. She touched her nose to mine. “You wear a helmet, right?”

“I do,” I answered gravely. Her face was so close to mine she went a little blurry. “Why are we putting our heads together?”

“Because when Mommy has something serious to tell me, she gets down and puts her face close to mine and makes sure my eyes are on her, and I’m listening good.” Her eyes widened. “Are you listening good, Uncle Emmett?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Don’t get a concussion because your brain is important,” she whispered. Then she kissed my cheek and wiggled to get down.

When she ran off, I rubbed a hand over my chest. “How do you not give them whatever they want?”

Isabel patted me on the shoulder. “Because I’m a parent, and it’s so much easier to tell them no.”

Anya—Isabel’s stepdaughter, just slightly younger than I was—gave me an indulgent smile. “You, on the other hand, are the very best kind of uncle to have.”

“How so?”

“You’re single and make a ridiculous amount of money.” She spread her arms out. “Where else are you going to spend those millions but on your beloved nieces and nephews?”

Isabel sighed. “Yeah, like buying them bitcoin for their fifth birthday?”

I shrugged. “It’s a good investment. Maybe Uncle Emmett can pay for their college education that way. Or help them start their first business. Whatever they want to use it for.”

Anya laughed. “Fricken athletes. You guys are crazy.”

She would know. Isabel and her husband, Aiden—Anya’s dad—ran a chain of boxing and fitness gyms. Anya had been running around those gyms since she was a kid and knew just as many athletes—current and former—as I did.

A few of the kids around the field approached, asking me for pictures and autographs, and by the time most of the families cleared out, Molly and Noah had packed up Luna, and Isabel and Anya were on their way to pick up Violet from my sister Claire’s house where she’d spent the night.

My mom waited patiently because it looked like my dad was taking a few pictures too. It was so normal to us, and maybe that was weirder than anything.

I’d been raised in a household that didn’t glorify athletes, but everywhere we went, people glorified us for our performance on the field.

Normal people doing abnormal jobs, as my dad used to say. And after playing the game I loved for so many years, I knew just how true that was.

There were plenty of jobs that had demanding, life-altering schedules. People who worked just as hard for a lot less money than I was able to make. The difference was in the spotlight. The cultural weight of the job we did.

Because I was good at this one singular thing, my status was somehow elevated. I didn’t need the fame, but I still struggled with the expectations.

I wasn’t mad at Adaline for knowing her own limits. She’d dated someone in a position like mine, and as much as I couldn’t stand that guy, she would walk into any possible relationship with me with eyes wide open.