Page 216 of Scoring the Player
Anaïs doesn’t respond at first, then she nods, looking away as Mom sobs.
“You know we took turns watering down your alcohol every day after school?” I sneer at Carter.
“N-no.” He shakes his head.
“We were scared to death you’d fall and bust your head open like that time you came home covered in blood. ’Cause maybe if you weren’t shit-faced, the beast wouldn’t wake at the snap of a finger and rage at us. Nothing I did was good enough. Everything I did made the two of you eviscerate each other.”
“It wasn’t you. Or you.” He glances up at Anaïs. “I had all my worth tied up in football. The alcoholism, the women.” He looks at Mom with remorse. If she’s surprised to hear about his infidelity, she doesn’t show it. “I was broken, and I tried to break everyone in my path.”
A dark cackle rises from my stomach. “Not everyone. The perfect Carter Show never missed airtime.”
“Everyone I love,” he corrects himself. “Imagine if you had everything taken away from you, your NBA contract?—”
“What? I’d terrorize my family and cheat on my husband? Negative. I’m not you.”
He hangs his head between his arms. “I’m a piece of shit for what I did to you, your sister, and your mom. You have no reason to believe or forgive me.”
“You didn’t have everything taken away from you,” Anaïs breaks in. “Wewere there.”
“I know.” He raises his head to turn and face her. “I couldn’t see that. A man is supposed to provide for his family. And in the blink of an eye, your mom became the only one bringing in money. I had just signed a contract that would have taken us to the next level. And like that”—he swipes his palms together—“it was gone. I worked my whole life to play football. It was all I knew. I didn’t know how to be a man, let alone a dad or a husband, without it.”
I snatch up my bag.
He turns to me. “I’m sorry for the hell I put you all through.”
“I’m sorry too,” Mom rushes out. “For abandoning you both when my marriage started to fail.”
“Got it.” My muscles lock, hardening to contain the surge of rage inside me. “We’re done?”
“Listen, I know one talk isn’t going to fix us. If you give us a—” he starts.
I raise my hand for him to stop. “This trip is for her.” I nod to Anaïs. “I heard you out. Tomorrow and the day after, I’m here for her. Not you or Mom. Respect that.”
“I just want to fix this,” Carter says.
“Some shit can’t be fixed.”
“You don’t mean that,” Mom says. “Please.”
“He just needs time,” Anaïs says. “We both do. You don’t know him. He’s been working really hard to heal. He goes to?—”
“Anaïs,” I interject.
“—therapy, he sees a psychiatrist, he’s even figuring out a way to let in someone he loves. And that’s a really big deal. It’s hard for him to let people in, to trust that they won’t turn around and hurt him. I?—”
“Anais. Please,” I beg.
“—don’t know how he’s so resilient after everything he went through, but he is. He doesn’t give up.”
I shake my head, clenching the strap of my bag, as I turn away and stare at the door.
“He’s brave. You read the article. To come out that way after being told from the beginning that being gay is wrong. His heart has been broken for a really long time. This was big for him to talk to you tonight. Accept where he is. If you push, you’ll push him away.”
“Weareproud of him,” Carter says.
My nails dig into my palm as I force my legs to stand strong.
“You can leave now, Arnaz,” Anaïs says. “It’s okay.”
