Page 113 of Resisting the Running Back

“I know I have the power to break the cycle and all that bullshit, but it doesn’t matter. The five of you escaped it. You’re all married, and most of you have kids or you’re having them or you’re a stepparent. And then there’s me. You escaped it, but what if it lands on the youngest? What if I’m destined to be the most like him?”

“Meaning what?” he asks, clearly confused.

“Meaning being a shit of a human and not being the kind of father any kid would deserve.”

“We got Charles, bro. We lucked out. You’ll be like him. Sacrificing for your kids rather than giving up on them.” He pauses before he adds, “You’re a good person, Miller. You’re not like him.”

“How do you know that?” I ask quietly.

“Because I had the privilege of growing up with you. When I fell off my bike when I was eleven, who ran and got help? Who helped me with chores when I was out late? Who drove me home when I had too much to drink? Who was there for me every step of the way as I fell in love with Cassie? Spoiler alert, all of those were you. You’re a good dude with a heart of gold,and finding out who gave us life has no bearing on any of that. So where is this coming from?”

“It’s coming from that. It fucked me up, man. It made me think twice about having kids, and then—” I cut myself off, not entirely sure I want to confess about the broken condom. I thought I’d mostly pushed that out of my head.

But I have two weeks in a hotel with my brother. I’m not sure I can keep that to myself those entire two weeks without him pulling it out of me anyway. May as well get it out of the way.

“And then?” he prompts.

I blow out a breath. “A condom broke when we were on the cruise.”

“Oh, shit. Is she…” He trails off, not saying the word.

I sit up and shrug. “No idea. Too early to tell.”

“What if she is?” he asks carefully.

“Then I guess it doesn’t matter if I don’t want kids because I’ll be having one.”

He presses his lips together. “Is this the attitude you gave her?”

“To be honest, we haven’t talked about it much at all.”

“So you’re running scared, she’s presumably freaking out, and rightfully so since you’re backing away, and your entire friendship is at risk. Sound about right?”

I raise my brows as I bite my lip. “Yeah, that about sums it up. But don’t forget the whole chestnut about starting a new season and not really being sure how much longer I’ve got in this game.”

His brows dip together. “Why would you say that?”

“We’re thirty now, bro. Who’s the oldest running back in the league?”

“Frank Gore played to thirty-seven.”

“Yeah, and Jim Thorpe played until he was forty-one in the twenties. Those are outliers, man.Iam a fucking outlier at thirty, and you know the game has changed even in the last few years.” I lift a helpless shoulder.

“So sit out more. Don’t take as many hits. Let the younger guys prove their worth.” He lifts his shoulder back as if that’s the answer. But it’s not.

“You know I can’t get out there and not leave it all out on the field.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “I know.” He’s the same damn way. It’s bred in us—from our biological father, most likely. It’s a case of nature versus nurture, and that’s why I’ve arrived at the conclusion that there’s still a chance I’ll end up like him no matter how hard I fight against it.

“Look, whatever happens, you’ve got to get your head on straight. Have you talked to Sophie about any of this?”

I shake my head.

“Do you really think you can plan a future with someone when you can’t be bothered to talk to that person about what’s going on in your head?” he asks.

I know he’s right, but that doesn’t make it magically easier to fix any of this. I don’t even know how to fix it when the future is so unknown.

I thought coming here would help immerse me into the game. I thought it would help me focus and leave my fears behind.

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