Page 43 of The Playmaker
"Before you ask—I'm fine," she announces, sounding chipper. "And those vids you took at the event for me are spot on. You're not thinking of a career change, I hope, are you?"
I am pacing in my living room and pause just long enough for her to drop the good vibes in her tone.
"What's wrong?" she asks gently.
It all comes out. Sleeping with Jax. Then doing it again. Him at Restaurant Week. Me seeing Riley. The story Ann wanted me to write today. And the big one—Jaxon Carter asking to date me.
Pen is so quiet, I almost think she hung up. "You kept all those secrets from me?" is her horrified first question.
"What? I just said he asked me to be…"
"I know, I know. That is awesome and you're going to text him after I hang up and tell him you not only want to date him but it was not you who leaked any info about his sister! He might already think you did it, Avery!"
Shoot. She's right. My stomach drops as the realization hits me. Of course he would think it was me—I'm the journalist who saw his sister, who he pushed away when I asked about his past, who he finally opened up to just enough to ask me out...and I rejected him.
"We are going to have a proper catch up sesh soon, but you need to text him. This could ruin everything you two were building—behind my back,I might add." Her tone is severe but there's no bite in it.
We end the call at her insistence. My mind is spinning.
My phone rings. It's Ann. I hope I didn't just ruin my career by walking out the way I ruined things with Jax by walking out… my mind goes crystal clear at that.
Dad isn't the only one with a problem of walking when things are too big to handle, now, is he? My hand covers my mouth in astonishment. I do the same thing. And here I am hoping both Ann and Jax will forgive me for it. Doesn't Dad deserve the chance to explain himself, too?
The box of my mother's things sits in the corner of myliving room where it's been since she passed. I've avoided looking through it, afraid of the memories it would stir up. But now, drawn by some force I don't fully understand, I cross the room and open it.
Among the photos and keepsakes, I find a stack of letters tied with a faded ribbon. My father's handwriting. Dozens of letters, all addressed to my mother, spanning years after he left. Letters she never showed me. Letters I never knew existed.
With trembling fingers, I open the first one.
My dearest Marie,
I know you won't want to hear from me, but I need to explain. Leaving you and Avery was the hardest thing I've ever done. I convinced myself it was for the best—that my problems would only hurt you both in the long run.
The team doctors kept giving me pills for the pain. Said I could play through it, that I just needed to tough it out. By the time I realized I couldn't stop taking them, I was already in too deep. The pills, the drinking to numb what the pills couldn't touch—I was becoming someone I didn't recognize. Someone who would hurt you both eventually.
I'm getting help now. Too late for us, I know. But I want Avery to know someday that I didn't leave because I didn't love her. I left because I loved her too much to let her watch me destroy myself.
All my love,
James
I read letter after letter, tears streaming down my face. They tell a story so different from the one I've carried all these years—not of a man who abandoned us for fame and fortune, but of a former college football star whose career-ending injury led to addiction, who left because he was terrified of what he might become, sending money when he could, asking about me in every letter.
One letter from years later catches my eye.
Marie,
I saw another young player get carried off the field yesterday. Same injury that ended my career. I wanted to reach out to him, to warn him about what the team doctors will offer him, how they'll tell him he can play through anything with enough pills. How they'll use him up and spit him out when he's no longer useful.
This is why I've been working with the addiction center. These kids think they're invincible, just like I did. They don't see how the culture will chew them up and leave them broken. I couldn't save myself in time to keep our family together, but maybe I can save some of them.
I still miss you both every day.
James
The last one is dated just weeks before Mom died.
Marie,
