The Perfect First (Fulton U, #1)(78)

I bit out a curse. This was exactly why I needed to end this, why I needed to not get sidetracked. I banged my fist on her door and bolted from the apartment. I was going pro. She was going to Harvard. It was as simple as that. Who knew where the hell I’d end up? The draft might send me to Seattle or Miami.

Inside my car with my hands wrapped around the steering wheel, the cold metal pressed against my palms. I needed to focus, to get paid and live the life my dad should have been living. So why did I feel like I was adrift? Like I was freefalling into an abyss I’d never be able to pull myself out of? I rested my head on the steering wheel and tried to remember what it was like to breathe, what it was like to live a life without Seph.





31





Reece





I dragged a chair out of the corner of the garage and stared out the open door at the snow drifting to the ground. Two days until the championship game. Two days until what I’d thought was the most important moment of my life, but I hadn’t even returned the calls from any of the agents who’d contacted me. It had been nine days since I’d last spoken to Seph. I’d escaped the prison-like surveillance Coach had us all under and was at my parents’ house.

Mom’s face had dimmed the second she’d pulled into the driveway and spotted me.

“Is everything okay? Is everyone okay?” She’d hopped out of the car and crouched down, resting her hand against my cheek.

My lips tightened.

“What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing.”

“You can’t tell me nothing when you’ve been walking around here since yesterday like someone killed the dog and we’ve never even had a dog.”

“Let me help you with the groceries.” I loaded up my arms with bags and took them into the kitchen. Mom whispered with Dad in the living room before dropping her hand onto his arm and disappearing upstairs.

“Reece, can I talk to you for a minute?”

After setting all the bags down on the counter and table, I walked into the living room. Dad ran his hand up and down his arm. “Your mom said you were out in the garage staring at nothing. Is everything okay?” The corner of his mouth lifted. “Is it about football?”

“No, but of course you’d want something to be wrong. You’d love for me to fuck this up, wouldn’t you?” I jumped up from my spot on the couch and rounded on him. “You can’t stand that I’m going to go pro. I’m going to stay in as long as I can, and letting someone get in the way of that—letting someone distract me from being the best wide receiver in the game isn’t happening.”

“That’s what you think? That I want you to screw up?”

“Why else wouldn’t you come to any of my games? You didn’t even want me to play in the first place. If I hadn’t forged your name on my permission slips, would you have let me play?”

“Absolutely not.” His voice was hard, and there was an edge to the glint in his eye.

I threw my hands up. “Exactly. You left because you couldn’t hack it. You missed Mom and gave up the glory for what? To be a pencil pusher at Grandpop’s office? I’m not doing that. I’m not going to live my life regretting it and keeping my kids from living the life they deserve.”

He dropped his head. Running his hand along his neck, he squeezed it. The light from the lamp reflected off his wedding ring. “Is that what you think?”

“It’s what I know.”

His head rose like he had a hundred pound weight around his neck. Standing, he walked closer and stood in front of me.

“I didn’t stop playing because of your mom.” Dad clamped his hand over my shoulder. “Not only because of her, I never wanted to stop you from living your dream, but I didn’t want you to make the same mistakes I made.”

“You don’t need to worry about that. I made sure I didn’t.” The sadness in Seph’s eyes when she’d handed me back the necklace I’d given her flashed in my mind.

“And from the look in your eyes and the way you’ve been moping around here, you might have missed out on the best thing that’s ever happened to you.” He gave me one of those annoyingly sage Dad looks.

A flare of anger broke free. “Like you don’t wish you hadn’t left and played one more season.”

“I couldn’t take one more hit, Reece.” His tone was shrouded in grimness.

“No one likes taking hits.”

“It wasn’t just being taken out by a defenseman. Maybe I wasn’t as fast as you, but those hits came often, and when my bell got rung, it stayed rung. That last season I played I had three concussions. It wasn’t until the last one that I found out how high the price was.”

“But you’re fine.” Wasn’t he? He’d been healthy as a horse, running five miles most mornings before going off to the office.

“I’m okay now, but…” He shook his head and held his fist up to his mouth.

Fear prickled the back of my neck.

“I wasn’t fast enough, and I wasn’t smart enough to quit while I was ahead.”

“Dad, you’re freaking me out.” I searched his face for answers.

“I almost lost you all. That last season I started losing time. The doctors said it was temporary, that it would all straighten itself out, and maybe if I hadn’t gotten hit, it would have, but I did.”