Page 96 of Almost
The older man gives me a pointed look, clearly not appreciating my tone. “I know it’s been a hard year for you. No one is denying that, especially with what happened to Lewis and his sister. You have to cut the kid some slack, though. He’s fresh out of college, and being expected to fill a spot his first season. It’s not his fault Lewis got hurt,” he adds softly, and I swallow the lump in my throat.
“Cutting him slack isn’t going to win us games. What are you asking me to do?”
“Neither is holding him to the same standards of a seasoned player,” Coach Hill replies, putting me in my place. “I’m asking you to reach out to the kid. Talk to him about whatever you think will get him to relax while he’s out here. You were put in the same position your rookie season; you should be able to relate better than anyone.”
He has a point; I do know better than anyone what it feels like, and it’s definitely not easy. We’re not clicking, and part of it is my fault. “I’ll talk to him.”
I assume that the conversation is over, walking off toward the locker rooms when he calls out behind me. “We’re not done, Walker.” I turn around in surprise, returning to where I stood previously, and Coach Hill’s face is softer now. “How is Owen doing?”
“Not great. He’ll be in the hospital until the rods are taken out of his leg. He’s angry and upset for good reason. Football was everything to him, and in the blink of an eye, it was snatched away,” I say honestly, and his face grows somber. One of the things I’ve been questioning since that day was if winning that game was really worth it? In the moment, it felt like everything. I was on top of the world. We had beaten our rivals, but then because of the win, Owen was hit by a drunk fan who lost a bet. It doesn’t seem fair.
“I hope he knows we’re all pulling for him.” Coach Hill pauses, shifting his gaze away before looking back at me. “How are you handling it?”
My eyebrows raise in surprise. That was the last thing I expected him to ask. “I’m not sure what I have to do with any of it. I wasn’t the one hit by the car.”
Coach rubs the back of his neck, exhaling quietly. “I’m gonna be honest with you—a lot of people in the program are worried about you, including me.”
I don’t need anyone to worry about me. I’m fine. I can remember everything, I can walk, I can play the game I love, and I’m fucking fine.
“I’m not sure I understand? We’ve had a great start to the season, and not to sound conceited, but I’m playing better than ever. I worked my ass off through training camp, and I haven’t given anyone a reason to worry about me,” I reply calmly, trying to keep myself in check, but I hate the idea of people talking about me behind my back.
“Sebastian, no one is worried about your ability to play football. You’ve proven that you can play through anything. The concern is regarding your mental state. Have you been sleeping?”
Is this a joke? No, I haven’t been sleeping. I’m fucking terrified to sleep because of the nightmares that have me gasping for air in the middle of the night. A car accident killed my parents and the vague memories I have of it still haunt me. Then to see my best friend, who is more like a brother, and my girlfriend almost get killed by a car right in front of me? It’s enough to make anyone not sleep.
“I’m sleeping fine,” I lie through my teeth. I don’t have it in me to feel guilty either.
He looks at me disappointedly as if I’m a child being scolded for taking a cookie I wasn’t supposed to. “The bags under your eyes disagree. I hope you consider talking to someone.”
“Like a therapist?”
“If that’s what you think you need to do. I don’t care who you talk to as long as it’s with someone you’ll be honest with about how you’re doing.”
I set my shoulders back, feeling myself get defensive about this. I don’t want to be attracting attention in that way. It’s been a rough year for me in the headlines, and it’s constantly lingering in the back of my mind that the front office is fed up with having to deal with it. I don’t need them worrying about my mental health in addition to it. “Is that all?”
Coach Hill nods, dismissing me. “That’s all.”
I walk to the locker room, avoiding the curious glances of my teammates.
I’ll figure it out.
~
I drop the bag of take-out Chinese on the marble counters of my new house as Zeus sniffs at it, wagging his tail excitedly. “Where’s your momma?” I ask him, scratching behind his ear.
He trots off into the living room, and I follow behind, finding Thalia sitting on the couch with her computer, so focused on whatever it is that she’s doing, she doesn’t notice me until I’m sitting down next to her. Coming home to her here already makes me feel a little better.
I press a short kiss to her cheek, my heart beating anxiously in my chest. I didn’t stop thinking about what Coach Hill said the entire drive here. “What are we looking at?”
“Pictures for the magazine. They were understanding regarding the delay given the circumstances, but they areneeding me to fulfill my end sooner than later. How was practice today?”
I hesitate, trying to decide whether I actually want to open this can of worms. “It was fine.”
She looks up at me skeptically, shutting her computer to rotate to face me. “Bash, what happened?”
“I love you,” I say honestly, a lump growing in my throat.
“You’re scaring me a little. What’s going on?”