Page 63 of Home Game

“I never knew my dad,” I finally said. “Mom said he left when I wasn’t even two years old, and she always told me that he wasn’t too great of a guy, and we were better off without him. But…”

My chest felt heavy. Fuck. I was actually uncomfortable, but at the same time, I wanted Emmett to know. I didn’t know why, but I felt like I wanted him toknowme. I wanted to be closer to him mentally, now, not just physically.

“But,” I continued, “Mom always said that he was a football fan. Just like me. And in my dumbass mind, I believed that when I went pro—if I became famous—my dad would reach out.”

Emmett breathed deeply, watching me close and nodding, hanging on my words. I realized idly that Emmett was a really, really good listener, and it was probably how he was usually able to make friends with anyone.

“Did he ever reach out, when you finally went pro?” he asked, hesitation in his voice.

“He actually did,” I finally said.

Emmett looked shocked.

My discomfort rose to a pitch, like a thundercloud finally about to break.

I spoke quickly now, wanting to get it all out. “We had lunch together. My dad pounded beers. And by the end, he had askedme for money four separate times. Seemed like he wanted funds to get some vacation timeshare, and other funds to start up some car rental company that he couldn’t even tell me much about. Our waiter had been wearing a rainbow armband for pride, and as we walked out of the restaurant, my dad called him a slur. Within earshot.”

“Christ, I’m so sorry,” Emmett said. His eyes scanned my face like he was trying to figure out how to put his thoughts into words. “I can’t even imagine it. Waiting a lifetime to meet your dad, and then…”

“So I punched him,” I said bluntly, sitting up a little straighter. “It was dumb, and I never should have done it. It was one of my first bad headlines in the media, a few years back.Police called as Storm Rosling gets physical outside a sandwich shop, or something stupid like that. Nobody had any idea of the details. What actually happened that day.”

Emmett leaned in to wrap his arms around me, holding me tightly. I heaved out a heavy sigh, feeling like I’d just unburdened myself of years of pain that I’d never shared with anyone before. Not even my mom.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated.

“All of that’s just to say, I don’t think it’s good to pin your happiness on one goal,” I said, leaning back again. “Sure as fuck didn’t work for me. And I feel like my heart got ripped out when you told me the Racks deal was off.”

There was a silence between us for a while, and the sound of the dried leaves blowing along the ground filled the air.

“I’m glad you came and found me here,” Emmett said after a while.

“Really? Because as I was walking up to you I half thought you might try to fight me right then and there.”

He smiled. “I’d be stupid to try to fight you, and we both know it.”

“Nah. You could take me. For a little while.”

He paused for a moment. “I just really needed to talk to someone after the day I had.”

“Tell me about it. Shit, today was not my day,” I said, trying to ease the tension but probably failing.

He looked up at me, his eyes surprisingly clear and bright.

“What do you usually do on a day where you feel like shit?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Club? Party? Go get a tattoo?”

Emmett puffed out a laugh. “Maybe I should go get a tattoo. Bunch of big roses above my ass, or something.”

“Hey, it would be kind of hot,” I admitted. “To be honest, after a shitty day I usually take a bubble bath.”

Emmett’s eyebrows raised. “A bubble bath? For a big, strong, masculine athlete like you?”

“Hey, fuck off, man,” I protested. “Bubble baths are for anyone. Sometimes mine are even pink and rose-scented.”

“I’m kidding,” Emmett said, and the gentle smile on his face lit me up inside. “I love baths, too. God, I haven’t taken one in so long.”

I leaned back, looking up at the sky. It was rapidly greying, like it might rain again tonight.

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