Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
“Why not?”
“It could jeopardize my career.”
“And you’re sure it isn’t drugs?”
I chuckled. “Promise, Dad.”
He made a noise like he was pondering, a deep hum. It reminded me of when he’d pretend to be torn on whether or not to give me and Ginny ice cream when we asked.
He’d made that same sound on the last day before Ginny’s diagnosis, a day that was brazened in my memory forever. We’d run up and asked to blow fireworks off, and he’d made that deep hum before giving in. Those Roman candles and sparklers had lit up my sister’s face all night.
We had no idea how bad her cold was, that it would end up being something that changed the course of all our lives the very next day.
“Well, I know how important football is to you,” Dad said. “And I know that you have bills to pay as an adult.”
The weight of those words settled heavy on my chest, all the things I’d carelessly forgotten rushing back to the surface.
“So, I guess if I were being a responsible parent, I’d tell you to do whatever it takes to walk away from this thing. Practice self-discipline. Get on your mat and lock into the present moment.”
Dad was into yoga and meditation just like I was. He was the one to teach me. When things got too heavy, he’d always pull out his mat and ground himself. And after that summer, I found myself setting up on the floor next to him, desperate to find some sort of peace.
When I’d learned how freeing it could be to let your thoughts go, to break up with anxiety and focus on what you could control… it was life changing.
I’d practiced daily ever since.
“But if I were your friend,” he continued. “I think I might tell you to weigh the risk and the reward, and if you can have this thing and not put anyone else in danger, and get away with it… well, maybe it might be fun. You deserve some fun. Some… spontaneity, as you said.”
I smiled, even though he couldn’t see me. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Did I help?”
I sighed then, chugging the rest of my protein shake. “I don’t know if anyone can help, but you gave me space to be heard. And that’s enough.”
“You sound stressed, son.”
“A bit,” I admitted.
“What do we say when we’re stressed?”
“Is that Braden?!” Mom called in the background.
“Hi, Mom,” I called in return. I knew my dad had me on speakerphone. He and Mom acted like the regular version of their phones didn’t work.
“Hi, honey! Oh, Ginny says hi, too! We love you! Everything all right?”
“It’s great,” I said.
“Dad said you sound stressed. Are you stressed?”
I laughed. “A bit, but I’ll be okay.”
“What do we say when anxiety creeps in?” she prodded.
My smile was genuine then, and I wished I could cross the distance in a second to be there in the chaos with them, to feel the warmth of that home and their arms at the same time.
“What’s the best that could happen?” I said, reciting our family mantra.
“What’s the best that could happen,” Mom and Dad echoed.
“Everything is fine,” I promised them. “I was just calling to say that I was thinking of you guys.”
“We’re always thinking of you,” Mom replied.
And my heart swelled before it twisted painfully.
Because I couldn’t say the same.
Not when I’d been ready to risk everything I’d worked so hard to give them in the heat of the moment.
By some miracle, I managed to keep my distance from Emily for the rest of the summer offseason.
It wasn’t that I didn’t see her. Any time we were both at the stadium or a community event together, it was impossible not to see her.
It was also impossible not to stare, not to dream, not to fucking pant at the memory of her hand on my cock and her breath in my ear.
I still wasn’t sure how I’d survived that moment of weakness in June, how I’d managed to walk away from her when all I’d wanted was to push her against that wall, hike that dance skirt up, rip through those tights and the shorts beneath it and plunge my cock so deep inside her that those breathy teases of hers would turn to moans. I’d wanted to mess up that perfect lip gloss she’d been wearing, wanted those perfect strands of hair out of place because of me.
I’d never wanted anything more in my life — a fact that scared me almost as much as the reality that I’d almost given in.
But somehow, I’d restrained myself.
Maybe it was the fear of getting caught that had my feet moving before my brain came back online. Maybe it was that I realized when the fog cleared how fucking stupid I was being, how careless. Maybe it was divine intervention, whatever deity that did exist throwing my teammates into that hallway at that exact moment to remind me what was at stake.