Page 92 of Roughing the Player
The day the news hit, I walk into the house to find Brock there, big as life, waiting for me.
“Brock’s here,” Kaylee announces as if I’ve suddenly gone blind. “I’ll go, err, finish my homework in my room.” As sensitive as she is, she’s always given us the privacy we need.
God knows we need it today. Once she’s no longer within hearing distance, I ask, “How are you?”
“Fine.”
He doesn’t look fine. Just the opposite, he appears exhausted. He’s got dark circles under his eyes, and his lids are rimmed in red. But then he’s got cause to be tired. Contract negotiations are beyond nerve-wracking.
“You heard about the Wolves signing me?”
I dig my nails into my palm, so hard they’re bound to mark me. “Yes, of course. It’s all over the agency.” Never mind the sports news. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” He should be happy. Ecstatic even. After all, this is everything he wants. The starting quarterback position and a lucrative paycheck. And yet. He’s not. “While I was down there, I found a house near the Wolves’ training facility. It’s in a gated community to keep the gawkers out.”
“That’s good.” I knew this was coming. And yet, it hurts so much.
“I also arranged to have my things packed and moved out of the condo.”
“All right.” Nothing more I can say, especially when my heart’s breaking.
“So basically.” He avoids looking at me. “I just came back for Butch. I’ll just grab him and be out of your lives.”
That statement burns right through me. More than I thought it would. But what did I expect? We’d agreed to a temporary marriage. With him moving to a new city, this is as good a time as any to end things. The problem is, I thought we could make a go of it. That our marriage could grow into something permanent. But I was just fooling myself. He’s not interested in anything serious. If he were, he would not have jumped to the wrong conclusion when he saw my bonus check. If he loved me. If he cared about me, he would have allowed me to explain. But that’s never going to happen. “So this is goodbye then.”
“Yeah, I guess.” His hard stare drills into me, tearing into my heart, making me bleed.
“I didn’t want things to end this way. I thought we’d at least stay friends.”
He jams his hands into his front pockets. “We’ve never been friends, Ellie. Isn’t that what you said?”
Yeah. I did. Okay. He’s made it clear where we stand, but he must deal with one thing. “What about Kaylee? She’ll miss you.”
“I’ll be in touch. Or rather my attorney will. We’ll need to arrange something.”
Something? How dare he be this cavalier about our daughter? Especially after she’s come to care for him. But I can’t discuss this right now. Not when my heart’s breaking. “Fine.”
Kaylee flies around the corner. So much for thinking she wasn’t eavesdropping. “You can’t go,” she screams at Brock while tears stream down her face. “You can’t leave us.”
“Kaylee, please.” Don’t know how much of her grief I can take without breaking down and doing the same.
“It’s not right,” she confronts Brock. “You’re supposed to stay. You’re supposed to be my dad.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t.” His voice is raw with emotion. Saying goodbye to me was easy, but his daughter? This is hard for him. As well it should be.
“Why, Mom?” she cries out to me.
“I’ll explain it to you later, honey.”
Her gaze ping-pongs between Brock and me as her face crumbles. “It’s not fair. I didn’t know who you were. I didn’t know you were my dad. You made me like you. How can you walk away?”
I give up the struggle to keep from crying. Somehow I have to make this stop. Toughening up my voice. I say, “Don’t make this harder than it already is, Kaylee.” I turn to Brock. “You better go.”
“Right.” There are tears in his eyes. “Come here, Butch.”
But Butch, bless his heart, plops down next to Kaylee. She drops to the floor and wraps her arms around him.
“Butch,” Brock says once more but his heart’s not in it. Not when his daughter is crying her eyes out. He gives Butch one last pained glance, walks over and pats his head, pats Kaylee’s as well. “Take care of each other.” And then he turns and, without once glancing back, walks out of our lives.
