Page 17 of The Way We Collide

The attendants welcome me with my usual scotch on the rocks, and I settle into the recliner-sized seat with myheadphones in and my phone out. Usually, I watch reruns of past games when I fly across the country, but tonight I’m restless.

My late dad was a legendary quarterback for the Texas Mustangs, and he taught my three older brothers and me everything he knew. He taught us to watch all the games during the season. He taught us to study what the other players in our positions were doing. He even taught us to study past players of his generation to see how they handled situations.

Every weekend, we were in the park running plays and working on our passing game.

As the youngest in a family of star athletes, I loved it. It was my dream to play professionally with all my brothers. Now I’m the only one still at it.

Gazing out into the growing darkness, I think about my dad.

We lost both our parents less than a year apart when I was still in middle school.

Jack had just signed on as the starting quarterback for the Mustangs, and all eyes were on him. As the oldest Bradford Boy, the entire pro-football world was waiting to see if he’d be the next Art Bradford.

He was.

He managed to be the best player in the league and keep us all in line from three states away. Zane, my second oldest brother, helped of course.

He was in college and close enough to keep tabs on us through his last year before signing on as a first-round draft pick with the Baltimore Admirals.

He left and Garrett took over.

It was hard, but all five of us believed in keeping our family together. We didn’t get into trouble, mostly because we all had our eyes on our goals. Even my youngest sister Dylan had her sights set on joining the New York Ballet Company—until an accident changed her plans.

We all inherited our dad’s laser focus, and when Jackannounced he was retiring from the league to be the head coach at our old high school, I couldn’t believe it.

“Retiring?” I stared at him like he sprouted a second head. "Why would you do that? You’re a star. Hell, you’re on track for the MVP!”

Jack’s grin was tight as he messed the front of my hair. “There’s more to life than football, little brother.”

He tried to play it off like it was no big deal, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“What about Dad?” I asked, doing my best to shake him out of it.

“What about Dad?” he said through a chuckle.

“Dad dedicated his life to training us. He taught us everything he knew. He opened the doors, paved the way?—”

“Dad taught us the only path he knew to a better life, but there are other ways.” Jack’s tone was calm, reasonable, and it pissed me off.

“I don’t believe that.” I pushed back. “Not for you.”

My mind tripped back to all the Saturdays we scrimmaged in the park; all the Sundays we sat in front of ESPN.

I’d been sleeping with my head on a football since I was old enough to carry one. I’d been busting my ass to be as good as my three big brothers since the first day Dad told me to get out there and play with them.

At six-foot-two, I’d always been the receiver to Jack’s quarterback. Garrett was a born lineman at six-foot-four, two hundred pounds. Dad guided Zane to being a kicker, and for a disinterested loner, he had the most natural talent of all of us.

Still, Jack was our constant. He kept us on track like a good team captain, and I always thought we were the same.

Until then.

“You’re walking away from your career to coachhigh school?” I couldn’t keep the disgust out of my tone. “I don’t believe it.”

“It’s what I want to do, Hen. It’s what I’ve done since Momand Dad died. Taking care of all of you changed my priorities. Then Kimmie changed them even more.”

His hand slid up and down the back of his sleeping daughter Kimmie Joy. Her head was on his shoulder, and it all made sense. I understood the resignation in his eyes, the smile that wasn’t completely genuine.

“This is because of Danielle.” I flat-out said it. No point beating around the bush.

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