Page 43 of The Player

“It seems the reporters can’t take a hint.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he grumpily replies and sits down in the chair directly in front of my desk.

“But it does, Aaron. Not in the way you are thinking, but to you emotionally, this is an issue.”

“How the fuck would you know?” He scoots to the edge of the chair, hands on my desk, and has rage in his eyes.

“Because your image is everything to you. It always has been.”

“It is not.”

“Oh, really?” Now I’m getting upset. I don’t mean to, but it’s happening.

“Yes, Aaron. You didn’t want to be seen with me in high school but wanted me at your games. The one time your sister begged me to go see a pro game, I went. You didn’t acknowledge either of us. Lennox was devastated he didn’t get to meet you.”

My heart is crumbling. Has he not changed? No. No, he hasn’t. Not one bit. “And…” My voice gives out as I swallow my tears. I really should know by now that I’m not good enough for him. “And when I called your name, you flinched as you turned toward me. I saw the fear in your eyes.”

“Jul—”

“No. It’s alright, Aaron. I’m an idiot for thinking you might have changed. You should get home if you aren’t going to continue therapy today.”

I keep my focus on the computer, dismissing him. If I look at him, he’ll see the hurt in my eyes. No point in giving him the satisfaction.

“Fine,” he grunts and walks out. A minor victory because there’s still no limp in his gait. My relief is short-lived as the door slams shut, and the heaviness settles within my heart.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

I don’t leave right away. Finding a dark corner where no one can see me, I watch Eric and how he flirts with everyone. It’s annoying that every time Julie comes out of her office, he is by her side. She keeps it professional, but I’m not happy about it. I’m downright livid as Eric touches her back. I don’t make a scene, though. Instead, I mumble to myself and leave.

“Who the hell does she think she is?” I grumble, walking toward the shuttle area.

“Hey, wait up!” Bryson calls out to me.

Without turning around, I stop and wait. He’s my brother, after all.

“Man, I can’t believe how winded I am. This shit is ridiculous. I used to run ten miles in the Marines.” He heaves a deep breath, and I watch him, realizing he’s truly not in good health. Guilt ridicules me as I realize what an ass I must look like.

“Tell me about it,” I mumble, trying not to get too emotional. Besides, I have no idea what I can say to make him feel better.

The shuttle pulls up, and as we settle down in our seats, Bryson looks at me. “She’s right, you know.”

I glare at my brother. The one man I’ve looked up to since I was little and wondered when he switched sides. “I’m hurt. You are supposed to be on my side.”

“I am, and you know it. The only way you are going to get through this is if you take that big head of yours and remove it from your own ass.” He chuckles and nudges me. “Don’t give me that look, little brother. Just think about it.”

“You don’t know what you are talking about.” I’m finding myself once again sulking, and I hate it. My pride is at stake here. Then again, so is my relationship with my family and Julie. Am I going to lose her again?

“I see those wheels turning. You look absolutely panicked.” Bryson doesn’t seem cocky about it. Still, I feel like a fool.

“Shut up.” My mind hurts. Am I the real problem? Fuck, have I sabotaged my career? No. The surgeon did that, but I haven’t helped myself.

Trees and red lights pass by as I feel the panic rising. “I left her,” I whisper and look at Bryson. “Why the fuck did I leave her?”

“What do you mean you left her?”

As the shuttle pulls onto the road to take us home, I look at Bryson. “I left her eight years ago.”

“You aren’t making any sense, Aaron. Spell it out for me.” Bryson looks at the driver, who seems to slow down so we can talk longer. Shit, I don’t want an audience, but I have to get this shit off my chest.

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