Page 54 of Blindside Me
“It ended his life.” His brush moves again, smoother now. “He was a great player, but he partied too much. His game slipped after he got involved with a girl. Scouts noticed. After one bad report, Dad blamed his girlfriend. They got into a huge screaming match. Dad told him to pick hockey or the girl. Jake chose the girl. After too many drinks, he peeled out of the driveway and wrapped his car around a tree. Now, my dad acts like he never existed. And I’m the replacement.”
My throat tightens. “That’s a lot to carry.”
He nods. “Coach knows. He sees it. He tries to help. But I can’t screw up, Jade. Not once. If I do, I will become just like him.”
“You’re not Jake.”
“I want to believe that.”
“I think you already do,” I say. “You’re just waiting for permission.”
His eyes meet mine. “You giving it to me?”
I nod. “Yeah. I am.”
When he doesn’t say anything, I add, “You’re already enough, Drew. You just don’t believe it yet.”
For the first time since we started this strange, slow orbit around each other, it feels like gravity finally pulled us into the same place. Messy and unspoken, but real.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Drew
Stale pepperoni, sweat-soaked hoodies, and whatever ungodly science experiment is mutating under the fridge fill the air. Welcome to the jock house.
I drop into the lumpy armchair, sinking so deep it might swallow me whole. My iPad rests on my lap, screen frozen on last season’s power play footage, but I’m not really watching. My eyes keep drifting to my phone. Still blank. Still nothing.
I won’t check her contact.
But my thumb hovers anyway, twitching like it’s got a death wish.
Easton and Ryan argue halfheartedly over a missed call from the game, which is playing muted on the television. I couldn’t care less. Econ notes and protein shake bottles are scattered across the coffee table, casualties from our failed attempt at pretending we study. Someone left a spoon in the peanut butter jar. A sweaty pair of compression shorts dangles over the back of the couch like a war trophy.
You can tell the girlfriends haven’t been here in a while. Can’t say I blame them.
I shift in the recliner, unable to get comfortable, but it’s not the cushions. It’s the tension that’s been riding me for days,ever since the night Jade pulled me into her chaos and left me drawing in it.
The phone burns in my pocket. I pull it out again.
Still nothing.
“You’ll wear out your screen, man,” Easton says without looking away from the TV.
I lock the phone. “Just checking the time.”
“Yeah? What time is it then?” he fires back.
I swallow. “Late.”
Ryan snorts. “Jesus, you sound like my dad.”
I flick my iPad awake to keep my hands busy. The freeze-frame blurs in my vision. I should be analyzing the defensive setup. I should be preparing for our biggest stretch of the season. Instead, all I see is her.
Jade.
Her words have been on repeat.“You’re already enough, Drew. You just don’t believe it yet.”
It’s haunted me ever since.
