Page 95 of Fair Catch
I just wanted someone to blame.
Zeke was the easy target.
“I know it hurt you to see that happen to me, and trust me, it killed me, too,” he confessed. “But — look at me,” he said, smiling as he spread his hands out over himself. “I’m here. I’m alive. I’m happy. I’ve got a great girl, a great group of friends to play basketball with, and a great future ahead of me.” He paused. “And I know even if I wasn’t okay, I’d have Zeke. And that alone tells me I can make it through anything.”
I picked at my fingernails, digesting everything he’d said.
“Zeke struggles in school. He struggles more than I think you understand.”
Those words sank into my skin slowly, like a remedy clearing the fog I’d been living in for weeks now.
Another thing I hadn’t considered.
How Zeke’s dyslexia might have played into the way he wrote the end of that paper.
If he was cross-referencing mine, if he was trying to rush to hurry… he could have easily mixed things up.
But if that was the case, why wouldn’t he just tell me that?
I almost laughed at myself the moment the thought crossed my mind.
He wouldn’t tell me because he wouldn’t be trying to pass the blame or make an excuse. Just like the night of the accident, he was accepting full fault.
And he thought he deserved every bit of punishment I was dishing out.
“Look,” Gavin said after a moment. “You can hold onto this forever. You can use it as an excuse to not give yourself what you really want, to deny yourself and Zeke happiness, to attest you’re doing the right thing by punishing him for his mistake. But that’s all it was, Sis. A mistake.”
Emotion surged in my chest, tears pricking the corners of my eyes.
“Or,” he countered. “You can forgive. Forgive, and understand that we’re human. We’re not perfect. And one day when you make a mistake, you’ll want someone to afford you the same grace.”
I closed my eyes, trapping what moisture had gathered in them as I let out a long, slow breath. I thought about that first game I blew, how Zeke forgave me without a second thought, how he didn’t even consider that I was less than, that I was a failure, that I no longer had what it took to be a starter.
He saw my potential the entire time.
Not only that — but he had been hell bent on making sure I saw it, too.
And Gavin was right. Us, me and him, our parents — we’d been like a safe haven to Zeke ever since we met him. Not that his parents weren’t amazing, because they were. But when he needed a break from the pressure, when he needed someone to love him exactly as he was.
He came to us.
And even if you hate me for the rest of your life, I need you to know that I love you.
Zeke’s words slammed into me like a train, so hard and unexpected that I gasped and covered my aching chest with both hands.
He loved me.
He loved me, and I’d turned my back on him, judging and executing him at the first sign of him not being perfect.
Because that’s what it had been before that day everything crashed down — perfect.
I’d let my stubbornness keep me from comforting him, from seeing the truth that he didn’t mean to hurt me. That pride wouldn’t even let me consider forgiveness, let alone give it to him.
I’d pushed him away in the name of protecting myself, all the while ignoring everything he’d given me, and the fact that he needed me, too.
When I opened my eyes again, it was like putting on glasses after walking around blind for weeks. I looked over at my brother, and then, without warning, I launched myself at him.
He caught me in his arms with a surprised oof, chuckling a little as he held me in a tight hug.
“It’s okay,” he said.
And that broke me.
I cried like I’d never cried in my life, and for the first time, I didn’t fight it. I let the tears come, let them wash away the last few weeks, and maybe even the pain I’d held onto in the years before that. It was a baptism in a hotel room, and my brother was the preacher.
We stayed like that a long time until I finally pulled back, wiping at my face and apologizing profusely as I wiped where I’d soaked his shirt next.
But Gavin just smiled and held up his pinky.
I eyed it suspiciously, cocking a brow.
“One more promise,” he said, wiggling the digit. “That you will do whatever makes you happy from this moment on. Regardless of what you think you should do, or what you think other people think you should do.” He paused. “You’ve given a lot to the people you love. Let us return the favor.”
