“Hey, G, I was thinking,” Jasper says as he jogs over, mischief dancing in his gaze. “If you could either be a cockroach or a rat, which would you be?”
“Neither. Both are disgusting.” I take my helmet off to drink down some Gatorade.
“Come on. Indulge me. You have to pick one.”
“Fine. A rat. They’re tough bastards, especially in New York.”
He makes a grunting noise as he picks up his water. “See, I think it’s cockroach. I mean, sure you gotta look out for spiders and pesticide, but when the nuclear bombs start to drop, you’d have the entire city to yourself.”
“Maybe rats could survive. They eat cockroaches.”
He rears back. “No shit?”
I nod and chuckle as we head back to the field. I run a quick route in front of him and catch the pass he throws before lining up next to him again.
He backs up to throw the ball, then stops short. “How about this one. If you had a crystal ball that could tell you the truth about any one thing, like your death day, would you want to know?”
He finally throws the ball, and I catch it, toss the ball back to Coach Marlon, and then line up near Jasper again.
“You got a crystal ball in the locker room?”
“No, asshole, these are hypotheticals. I’m a thinking man. I like to consider life. But if such a thing existed, I’d say no to knowing my future. Ignorance of self is bliss. I don’t want to know anything. I just wanna live life to the fullest, take all the chances I can, and be fucking happy.”
I slap him on the back. “I think you’ve got that covered.”
The whistle blows, and I follow the team into the locker room to finish dressing out. We’ll have another pep talk before heading back out for introductions.
I’m stoked about the game, my body vibrating, but there’s also apprehension dancing down my spine. I’m fully aware that each time I take the field, I’m taking a chance. Hasn’t that been part of the message in my dreams, that feeling of being suffocated as players pile on top of me? And yeah, if I had a crystal ball to tell me something, I’d ask about my injury.
My head churns as I open my locker. No, fuck that, I’d ask about Emmy. My mind goes to her, circling round and round since our conversation. What is she doing right now? Is she okay? Happy?
A long exhale leaves my chest, and I scrub my face in frustration. I think—okay, fuck, I know—I hurt her before I left to come out here.
She wants more from me.
And me?
I admire her. I need her.
She’s an image, always walking in the back of my mind.
She’s natural and funny. Beautiful without being aware of it.
And her loyalty and self-sacrifice to others? It’s hard for me to wrap my head around it all because I’ve never had someone like that in my life, except for Brody.
And the truth is, an empty space inside my rib cage has been ripping me apart, ever since I left New York. Something feels off. I’ve barely been able to concentrate since arriving. I seem to be doing things on automatic. Practice, work out, eat, sleep. And my dreams? She’s there, smiling, telling me she loves me.
I grab my wallet and pull out the fortune I got from the diner across the street from the motel that night in Old Town. Come out of the dark and embrace the sunshine.
She’s sunshine.
My heart sinks and my stomach jumps as I hold my phone and check my messages to see if she’s sent one, but she hasn’t. My breath hitches as I hesitate over what to do; should I call her, or should I maintain this wall of silence between us? My palms get slick with sweat, and my fist clenches so tightly that my knuckles turn white. An intense ache in my chest starts as an overwhelming desire to reach out to her pricks at me. Dread hits, for what reason I don’t know. I shouldn’t have left her without talking. I shouldn’t. What if . . . what if something happens to her? Or to me?
I notice I have a few random texts and three voice mails. I rarely have voice mail.
I listen to the first:
Graham, it’s your dad. Wanted to wish you luck, and I’ll be watching tonight on TV. I just ask for you to be careful out there.
I click the save button.
The second message starts:
Graham. David here. I wanted to check in. Good news: the inheritance has arrived. The only way they could attempt to claw it back would be by lawsuit, and I highly doubt that would happen, especially with Vale supporting you. Whenever you’re ready, you can transfer to Brody, or keep it, or whatever. It’s yours. Since that came through, I dropped off the divorce papers with Emmy. I’m flying out tonight to join my wife and kids on a Disney cruise, so I wanted to get that done. Once I get back, we can get those filed. I’ll reach out in a few days from whatever island they’re dropping us at, just to make sure there’s nothing else.