After the Game
Page 23

“My mother said she called the house and let Mrs. Higgens know Brady was here last night.”
Maggie nodded. “Yes, but he’s never done that before, and he smelled like beer. Which I’m fairly certain he’s smelled like before.” She paused and handed me what looked like a cake she was holding. “Aunt Coralee sent this. She said she’d been meaning to bring one over herself.”
I took the cake from her. I couldn’t tell her anything. This was Brady’s to tell. Not mine. “Tell her thank you for me,” I replied.
“I’m not here to ask you to tell me what’s going on. I just need to know if he’s okay,” Maggie said.
I could answer that. “No, he’s not.”
Maggie frowned. “I was afraid of that. Things weren’t good between him and Uncle Boone. But I’ve never seen them that way. I just don’t know how to help.”
She couldn’t. No one could.
“Trust me when I tell you that you can’t help him. He’s got to do this alone. If he needs to open up, he will; otherwise just let him be.”
She nodded. “Okay. I get that. Better than most, I guess. But I did need someone. West became my someone. I think everyone needs someone.” She paused and looked directly at me. “I hope you’re his.”
I did too. “If I am, I won’t let him down.”
She smiled and looked back at the door. “I’m late for school. I guess I need to leave before my uncle is upset with me, too. Thanks for talking. It was nice to finally meet you,” she said, then turned her attention to Bryony. “It was nice to meet you, too.”
Bryony smiled brightly up at her. Then ducked behind my legs.
We said good-byes, and I closed the door behind Maggie. She was sweet, beautiful, and she obviously got the “not to be intrusive” thing. Brady was lucky to have her in his home with him. It would help when he was ready to open up.
“Can you go to Miller’s and get me a pound of sugar? I think I’m gonna make some of my cherry cobbler for Lyla,” Grandmamma said, smiling down at Bryony. Today Bryony was going to be my mother as a child again. We didn’t have these days every day, but today Grandmamma had called her Lyla three times already. Bryony always seemed confused but had stopped arguing with her about her name.
“Sure,” I told her. “Why don’t we go see if your talk shows are on yet. I think it’s time for Dr. Phil,” I told her.
“I need to feed Thomas first,” she argued.
“Let Bryo . . .” I paused and corrected myself. “Let Lyla do that. You know she loves to.”
Grandmamma thought about it a minute, then nodded. “That’s a good idea. She needs responsibility. Never hurt anyone.”
I winked at Bryony when we had to play pretend with Grandmamma. She blinked hard with both eyes because she couldn’t wink yet. Grinning, I turned on the television for Grandmamma and Bryony headed to the kitchen to pretend to feed a cat that didn’t exist.
“I want Wywa appasauce,” she said quietly when we got to the kitchen. On the days she was confused for Lyla, Grandmamma always gave her applesauce. It had been my mother’s favorite snack as a baby. Bryony had figured this out.
“Okay,” I replied, setting the cake down, then lifted her up into her high chair.
My mind was on Brady, though. He was facing school and friends with his soul shattered. Holding a secret like that had to feel like the weight of the world was on him. I couldn’t be strong for him, though. No one could. He had to find that in himself. At least he wasn’t alone.
“Do I like Dr. Phil?” Grandmamma called from the living room.
This was a bad day. Some days were better than others. Today she was confused about everything. I walked to the door and looked in on her. “Yes. He’s brilliant and will have all kinds of good tips for you.”
She nodded and covered her legs with the afghan we kept on the sofa. She had made it years ago. “He’s a handsome thing, ain’t he?” she commented. She said this every day when she watched him.
“Yes,” I agreed, grinning, then stepped back to the kitchen to pour Bryony some applesauce. I was sure I would be told to go get some more at Miller’s for Lyla later today.
“Go pawk?” Bryony asked.
“Yes, we will go later today, after your nap,” I assured her. It was getting colder every day, and I dreaded when we couldn’t go to the park anymore. Bryony needed a swing here at home, so she could go to the backyard and enjoy herself for shorter amounts of time. The biting cold that was to come would keep us from walking to the park. She would hate that.
This Was the Only Weapon I Had
CHAPTER 30
BRADY
Nash Lee was sitting in the desk next to mine when I walked into class. He wasn’t grinning like normal. Which meant I was about to get drilled about not being at workout this morning. West was the only one who didn’t mention it, and I had Maggie to thank for that. Everyone else was worried I was sick. That damn game was all they could think about.
“You good?” Nash asked as I sat down beside him. Same exact question I’d heard from Gunner, Asa, and Ryker. No, I was not fucking good. I’d never be fucking good again.
“Yeah,” I lied, not saying anything else. I never missed a practice or a workout. They all had at some point. So why couldn’t I miss one without the damn inquisition?
“Coach was worried.”
Coach had been waiting on me the moment I walked in the door this morning. I was aware he was worried. He, too, thought I was sick. He was ready to send me home to rest. A place where I didn’t want to be. A place full of lies and deceit.
My father hadn’t been there when I’d come out of the bathroom this morning. I’d almost expected him to be, but he had left for work. My mom had looked beyond worried, but I couldn’t explain any of this to her. I wasn’t sure how I ever would.
“You just never miss.” Nash stated the obvious.
“I did today” was the only response he was getting. Jesus, couldn’t they all back off? I didn’t drill them when they missed. I respected their privacy.
Where was my respect, dammit?!
“Rifle said he saw your truck at Riley Young’s. He was whispering it to Hunter, and I shut it down. That shit ain’t true, but they’re spreading crap and I wanted you to know. I can handle it if you want.”
Rifle Hannon was a sophomore and didn’t even know the real details about two years ago. He’d been in middle school, for crying out loud. He might be a good tight end, but he needed to keep his mouth fucking shut about me if he wanted playing time.
“I was there. But it’s no one’s fucking business,” I said, looking straight ahead. Nash was my friend, but I was past caring what everyone thought of me. Of my choices. They sure acted as they pleased. Got drunk at the field party, fucked around with girls at school, took nothing seriously but football. I was tired of being the good one. I wasn’t trying to make my dad proud anymore. I did not give one fuck.
“Gunner won’t take that well,” Nash said, as if I needed reminding.
I turned to him then and made sure he saw the look on my face. The one telling him just how many fucks I did not give. “I don’t need Gunner’s permission for shit.”
Nash’s eyes went wide and he nodded. I was surprising them all. And I didn’t care. My team’s feelings were no longer important to me. Friday night wasn’t important to me. After the game wasn’t important to me. My family was a joke. My mom, who deserved a man to love her and be good to her, was the only real thing in my life. That and my friendship with Riley. The others could kiss my ass.
When the class started, Nash thankfully fell silent and I tried to focus on what was being said and not ways to handle my father’s sins. By the time it ended, I wasn’t sure what the assignment was or anything we learned. My head wasn’t there. It was at my dad’s office, where he’d ruined my life.
I attempted to make it through the next class, and when it was a replica of the first one I gave up and walked out the front door to my truck. I headed for the park. At some point Riley and Bryony would be there, and I’d be waiting. It was the only place I could go.