Page 15 of Going for Two
“I’m a man of my word. I’ll see you tomorrow at six.”
Nolan Hill was indeed a man of his word. The next morning, his black Range Rover pulled up next to my car at ten minutes until six while the sky was still dark. I had been leaning against the hood of my car waiting when he pulled up.
I watched Nolan take in my leggings, running shoes, and long-sleeved workout shirt. He was dressed in a pair of shorts and a well-worn Bobcats crewneck; a Cougars baseball cap covered his normally tousled brown hair.
“You are not dressed in your usual attire,” he said, speaking the obvious.
“Well, that’s because we aren’t doing the usual routine.” I pushed off the hood of my car and started off toward the trail head that wove its way through the woods of the residential area that surrounded the Bobcats’ practice facility.
“Where are we going?” Nolan asked, his long strides keeping easily up with my short ones.
“For a run. I want to switch things up and see how you do before we get into the training room.”
I took off into a light jog the moment my feet hit the pavement of the trail head. Nolan and I fell into a steady rhythm with each other, the first few minutes of the run passing with comfortable silence. I appreciated Nolan’s sudden willingness to listen to me and not fight over his treatment.
“So, you want to tell me about why you avoided me all last week?” I asked as we passed the first house in the surrounding neighborhood.
Birds chirping in the morning air and the pounding of our shoes on the pavement were the only sounds filling the space between us before Nolan finally answered me. “I don’t particularly like therapy.”
He gave me an embarrassed look, much like the one he gave me at the game the day before.
“It reminds me of the reason why I got hurt in the first place.” I could tell that whatever Nolan was thinking about, it often weighed heavily on his mind. “I had missed those defensive players rushing me on the right side because I’d been lost the whole game. I hadn’t had time to read the playbook that week as thoroughly as I should have … I had other things going on that drew my attention elsewhere. So, I wasn’t as quick at finding my receivers that game and it eventually caught up with me. I let other things distract me and it cost me nearly everything.”
“What was on your mind that week?” The professional side of me wanted to know what I was up against with trying to mend him, but I was also curious to know what could have shaken Nolan so much that it would affect his game like that.
“Now, I don’t think it’s fair that I’m the one answering all the questions here.”
I noted Nolan’s evasion, but I appreciated that he was at least trying today—even if it was difficult for him. It was only fair that I met him halfway. “What questions do you have?”
I could feel Nolan’s gaze heavy on me. “You seem to know a lot about football.”
“That’s not a question,” I replied.
The scowl I was used to seeing Nolan wear passed over his face again. “Why do you know so much about football?”
“My father coached high school football. I grew up with a game on all fall and winter. He liked to joke that it was in my blood.”
What I hesitated to share was how football was the only thing that my father had ever really cared about. He thought coaching high school football was more important than even his family. Games became more important than holidays, birthdays, and eventually his marriage.
“He seems like a dedicated father,” Nolan commented, oblivious to my pained expression.
I remembered a time when I desperately wanted my father to come home, only to be told that he had game film to watch—for a high school football game. He acted as if he were on the verge of winning the Super Bowl with the level of importance he thought it deserved.
Eventually, my mother pulled away from Olivia and me, as well. Too wrapped up in grief for a dying marriage to focus on the two children that were still there, that still needed her. She left me to raise Olivia on my own. They both did.
“He was dedicated to something. That’s for sure,” I mumbled.
Nolan’s steps slowed for only a moment as he finally picked up on the bitterness lacing my voice. To his credit, he managed to navigate the conversation away from my father without knowing why he needed to.
“I don’t think I’ve ever had a medical professional in my corner that speaks about football the way you did to me during halftime yesterday.”
Nolan’s comment nearly made me stumble to a stop. He hadn’t added anything about never having had a female medical professional in his corner that could speak on football like that. He’d simply stated he’d never hadanyonespeak about football like that with him—my opinion wasn’t questioned because I wasa female. That simple distinction meant more to me than he probably realized.
“I have a feeling most people were probably just too scared to cross that line with you.”
Nolan chuckled at my observation. That sound actually did send me stumbling this time.
Nolan reached out an arm to steady me. “Careful. You’re the one supposed to be keeping me from injuring myself, not the other way around.”