Page 12 of Power Play

“You’re a damn hero here, man,” he says. I roll my eyes, then I feel this pang of guilt in my gut.

“I’m no hero,” I say. That pained look on Lo’s face flashes through my mind. I clear my throat. “I ran into Lo.”

Tyson pauses for a moment.

“Oh…oh yeah?” he asks, clearing his throat nervously.

“Yeah. And her kid,” I say.

Tyson clears his throat for a second time.

“Yeah,” he says. “My niece, Harper. Isn’t she beautiful?”

I hadn’t even thought about it. I’ve hardly processed it. But I agree.

“Beautiful, yeah,” I say. “Uh, how come you didn’t tell me that she, you know, existed?”

There’s another pause on the other end.

“Not my story to tell, man,” he says. Ugh. Damn Tyson and his stupid loyal self.

“But it’sLo,man,” I protest. He sighs.

“I know, man,” he says. “But she was seventeen when she got pregnant. She was ashamed, I guess. She made us all swear to keep it as private as possible. No social media, no nothing. And she specifically asked me not to tell you.”

I grip the steering wheel tighter.

“Me? Why me?” I ask. I swallow, but my mouth is as dry as a desert.

“I don’t know, man,” he says. “I assumed it was just because you’re a celebrity. She didn’t want there to be any sort of chaos around you knowing. And she certainly didn’t want any charity.”

I grip the wheel so tight my knuckles are white.

That’s not why she didn’t want me to know.

“That makes sense, I guess,” I say reluctantly. “So, uh, who’s the dad?”

“Some guy she met at a college party,” Tyson says. “She had gone to meet some friends over at Graver. She told us she didn’t even know his name. No way to contact him. And she didn’t want to.”

“Why not?” I ask. I know I just sound nosey now, but I don’t care.

“She just wanted to keep Harper safe and with us. She didn’t want to complicate things with some guy she barely knew. It took all the might Tate and I had, though, not to go hunting for him.”

I growl under my breath.

“I fucking bet,” I say.

“Alright, man,” Tyson says, “I’m heading into the liquor store, but I’ll see you tonight.”

“Yeah, man. Sounds good,” I say and then hang up.

* * *

A few hours later, I’m checking my reflection in the bathroom mirror of the house I’m renting while I’m in town. It’s this little farmhouse a few miles out from the center of town. I brush a hand through my hair, wincing at the scar on my hairline when I see it. It’s fading now, from a deep pink to a pale pink. It doesn’t hurt anymore. The memory hurts worse.

“Buck, bro, you good?”Roy had asked me, leaning over top of me. “Fuck. Coach, get the medic out here!”

I shake my head, clearing it from my mind.

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