Everything about this feels off.Stilted. Like someone’s trying to force a round peg in a square hole. Like I’m the only one not in on a secret. “You guys want to fill me in on what the hell is going on?”
Like is Dad finally ready to retire?
I keep my thoughts to myself because I’ve got mixed emotions about the whole thing, even if I’ve been expecting it for a while. There’s something about playing for your father. A different level of pressure put on you by everyone. But none of that has ever bothered me the way playing for Dad bothered Declan. Maybe because I grew up wanting to be Dec and knowing in my bones one day, I’d play for my father.
The press had a field day with it when I was drafted, but I ignored them.
It’s easy to do when you’ve been trained to deal with them your entire life.
Coop knocks on Dad’s office door before he pushes through.
Dad sits behind his desk with game tape playing on the TV hanging on the other side of the room. He seems as tired as Coop as he takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes. “Hey, guys.” He looks between Cooper and me and nods as if agreeing to something. Or maybe bracing for impact. “Are you hungry? I think your mother is making lunch.”
“Not really...” I trail off, my stomach no longer interested in food.
Nothing about this feels right.
“How about you have a seat, son.” Dad motions to the couches in the corner of the room.
“Could someone please tell me what the hell is going on? Are you retiring, Dad?” I ask, refusing to move. The energy around us is wrong. It’s heavy...broken. Every instinct in me is suddenly braced for a fight.
Dad stands across from me, not answering.
Cooper grips my shoulder, and my world falls out from under me.
“You’re not retiring, are you?”
A small sniffle slips past Mom’s lips as she moves into the room, next to Dad. A united front, as always.
I hadn’t even realized she’d followed us in.
“Callen—” Dad stops abruptly. “Iamretiring. I’ll be around to help Declan with the transition this season, but the team is his. It’s already been decided with the Kingstons.”
I grip the chair for balance, not a fucking doubt in my mindthatisn’t the bomb he’s dropping. That was just the warning shot.
“Whyare you retiring, Dad?” Unwelcome anger courses through my veins like it always does when I’m preparing for a fight on the field. A fight for the ball. For the play. For the win. If you’re not fighting for it, you don’t want it bad enough. And this... this right here feels like the worst kind of fight. The kind you don’t ever recover from. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Dad’s eyes close as he presses his lips to Mom’s forehead before he looks at me and Cooper. “I’ve got cancer, son.”
Caitlin
Some people stress clean.
Others stress eat.
I stress bake.
That’s what happens when you grow up with a baker as a mother. I rarely crave sweets. Coffee—yes. Sweets... not so much. But something about the act of baking. The formulas in the recipes that need to be followed precisely... Most I know by heart. The familiar movements I could go through with my eyes closed. The memories of sitting on Mom’s counter with my hands in cookie dough while she iced cupcakes. The whole thing calms my mind when nothing else will.
I guess that’s why my kitchen looks like something out of theGreat British Bakeoffwhen my phone vibrates. Where is it? It’s not hard to find when I see the trail of flour moving next to my glass canister.
Bellamy
Are you up and showered?
Caitlin
Are you my mother?