Page 66 of Fighting for His Life

“You two not close?”

I shake my head. “No. It’s not that. He just tries to keep a low profile.”

“Ah. Doesn’t like all the attention that comes with being seen with the Jax McCabe, huh?”

I give him a sidelong look wondering what’s with all the questions, but I’m very private about my life for the most part. He’s probably just being friendly, and I’m probably just being paranoid. “Something like that. More like he tries to keep his shit away from me. Being around me draws too much attention, and the more attention he gets the more likely I am to become a part of his shit.”

“Your brother’s Rory McCabe,” he states. “That’s what the secretiveness is about. Isn’t it?”

I roll my neck, not appreciating where this conversation has gone. But I realize it’s still harmless talk. “Yeah. That’s my brother.”

“I get it, man,” he says ending that conversation, giving me some relief.

I stay quiet for a few minutes not wanting him to ask more questions about Rory. They really are innocent, but I have been conditioned to question everyone's motives who ask about him.

Fetu is a talker though. The silence gets to him quickly and he’s soon starting another conversation. “So, your girl, she doing better?”

I think for a minute on his question because I’m not sure what the right answer is. I can hear the difference in her voice over the phone, but until I look in her eyes, I won’t know the truth. “She sounds better than she did two weeks ago,” I answer honestly, “but I can’t really be sure. I mean, the girl can’t act for shit, but it’s hard to tell through short phone calls if she is really making any progress.”

“Damn, you’re a good man, Jax,” he says chuckling.

I get that uneasy feeling again. My heart and mind rebel against his statement. “I’m not, Fet. I’m really not.”

“What are you talking about, man? Of course, you are. I damn sure wouldn’t take my girl back a year after she walked out on me. Especially after being together as long as you were.”

My grip on the steering wheel tightens. I have to remind myself that he may know why Zoey is in the hospital, but he has no idea why she ran away. We never gave an explanation to anyone, but the coach and to our lawyer and agent. It was private and we wanted to keep it out of the media. The only reason we’ve told anyone about this time is because of the amount of time Zane and I stayed away. We’ve still managed to keep it out of the tabloids and news, but I worry how long that will last.

“I mean she left you and her own brother last year without an explanation and you both ran back to her as soon as she was in trouble. Zane is her brother so that’s expected, but you didn’t have to go.”

I blow out an exasperated breath. “You don’t know the whole story, Fetu. It’s not as clear cut and simple as all that.”

“Enlighten me, brother. Because from where I sit -,”

“Watch it Fet,” I hiss.

“I get it. You love her but love only means so much. I mean how will you ever trust her again man. Drugs or some other dude or whatever, she left without a reason.”

“She was fucking raped, Fetu,” I yell, instantly regretting telling him what we haven’t told anyone. But he has become one of our very good friends. He’s a few years older, but he was the first one to welcome Zane and I into the Raptors.

“The fuck,” he says leaning back against the seat. “When?”

“Last year,” I almost whisper, suddenly feeling exhausted and not from the grueling game we just played. “Last year she was raped, badly beaten and lost our baby. She didn’t handle it well and, for whatever reason, couldn’t face me or Zane. So, she ran. She didn’t call us this time. Her friend did. She had God knows how much coke in her system and sliced her arm from elbow to wrist. She severed a few tendons but somehow missed her artery. She was just – lucky. Zoey doesn’t ask for help. Never has. Maybe that’s part of the goddamned problem. So, stop calling me a good man. A good man would have tried to find her instead of coming back here for a fucking ballgame.”

He wipes a hand across his mouth like he’s trying to wipe away a bad taste. “Shit,” he mutters under his breath.

The rest of the car ride is silent. The most I’ve ever seen Fet, and I realize that maybe some of the guys who are closer to Zane and I should know the whole truth. Last year, we were still new to the team and the league. We weren’t comfortable enough with anyone to share any of this. But we’ve gotten to know a few of them much better. Well enough to consider them friends.

I wonder if the others think the same as Fet did. I don’t want any of them thinking Zoey just left me for some other guy or habit. I don’t want them to look down on her. I really don’t want to have to punch anyone’s face, and I know I will.

Part of me thinks it should be Zoey’s decision to share this, but I know it's mine too. And Zane’s. Those guys have watched us stress and worry for a year now. And when we both took off, they had to know something was up without us saying a word. They’re our friends and they’re worried about us.

I pull into Red. It’s a smaller club my brother and his friend own. One side is a standard bar. The other side is a strip club.

All I can think is that I need a damn drink. I swear it feels like I’ve tried to drink the past year away. I want to do the same thing tonight, but I know that Zoey will be calling soon. I’ll stay sober for that.

We walk into the establishment still in silence. The place smells of beer, peanuts, and expensive cologne worn by businessmen waiting for a table to open on the stripper side. There are high-top tables lining the marbled floor. High-back stools line the huge antique bar.

The place is pretty packed, but it usually is on game nights. Practically every table is full, and all eyes are on the big screen tv hanging over the bar watching the next game. I’m thankful most people are accustomed to our presence here. With the exception of the occasional autograph request, most people don’t look twice at us.

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