Page 31 of Finding Our Reality

“Surprised to see you stomp away from the table mad. I thought for sure it would be her.”

“You and me both.” I sit down and wave my empty bottle in Will’s direction, signaling I need another. He breaks away from the crowd and quickly hands me one. I gulp it down, letting the cold liquid quench the burn in my stomach. I’m already ready for another one. Looks like I may be taking an Uber over to Marcum’s house and crashing on his couch. Maybe one day, service will eventually make it out to my house. I doubt it. Highly.

Holt and I sit for a while, watching a sports show on one of the big screen TVs behind the bar. The volume is muted so it doesn’t interfere with the music piping from the speakers. The band for tonight is setting up, but they haven’t started playing yet.

I chance a sideways glance at Holt when a story about Sunday’s big game flashes across the screen. “So, Sunday is February 1st.”

“Yep.”

“Super Bowl Sunday.”

“Yep.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t go.”

He shrugs. “NFL asked me to go. I said no.”

“Why?”

“Because I would be sitting there, just watching the game and enjoying myself, and before you know it, they would flash my picture on the screen and spend the next few minutes talking about my injuries and what could have been. No, thank you. I’m fucking over that.”

I check the time on my phone, making sure I haven’t missed any important work calls. “Everything I read before the season started said that your team could’ve done it again this year.”

He pops his knuckles, laughing. “They could’ve. Too bad their dumbass quarterback injured himself before even stepping out onto the field.”

“From what I hear, that dumbass quarterback saved his niece’s life.”

Holt narrows his eyes, scowling at Will’s back. “Will sure has a big mouth.” He spins on his barstool, facing me. “You sure he didn’t tell you anything about Ella?”

I hold up my hands. “Promise. Lulu’s been a tight-lipped secret with all of y’all. Just the way we both wanted it, I guess.” Cullen sets a fresh beer in front of both me and Holt. “Out of curiosity, though, why did you lie about how you got hurt?”

“I already told you—the media. They’re relentless. I couldn’t put Anna through that. She’s only five. If they found out what happened, they would be talking about her, trying to interview her. I love that little girl too much to put that burden on her. Or Raylee.”

I nod, it’s all making sense now. “I never got a chance to give my condolences for your injuries. I know a couple of guys who had the same surgery. Recovery is brutal. Damn brutal. Are you doing good with it?”

“It’s been six months. I’m getting better, stronger each and every day. I rehab and work out like crazy, more now than I did when I was training.”

“Well, what’s next for you?”

Holt waggles his eyebrows and spins his bottle around and around. “Didn’t you hear? My career is completely over.”

His sarcastic humor nearly has me spitting my drink all over the floor. “Bullshit. I hate when people say that about you. You’re what? Twenty-nine? You have your whole damn life ahead of you. You can have five more careers if you want. You just have to findwhatyou want.”

Holt smiles, his sarcasm flipping to sincerity. “I’m glad someone else finally gets it. I was beginning to worry that me and my family were the only normal ones in the northern hemisphere. People keep acting like I should be wallowing around in self-pity on my death bed because I can’t play football professionally anymore. What they never understood was, that for me, it was just a game. A game I was really good at. A game I loved playing. I’d play from morning till night if I could. But it’s notwhoI am. I’m still me. I just finally have to grow up now, be an adult. No more getting paid to play on a big green field.”

I laugh and pound his shoulder with my fist. “Well, you’re definitely not NFL material. They’d pull that Super Bowl ring right off your finger if they heard that.”

“Let’s keep it to ourselves.”

I toss my head in Will’s direction. “Better not tell big-mouth Will then,” I joke.

Lulu’s voice makes the hair on the back of my neck stand. “What’s so funny? What are y’all laughing about?”

Holt smiles. “Nothing.”

She frowns. “You’re lying.”

“Yes.” He doesn’t elaborate. He just turns back to watching TV. And ignoring the girls at the end of the bar who have been trying to hit on him all night long.

---