Page 74 of Rebound

“What is it?” I ask as I look at my reflection in the mirror. I turn my head and notice a red mark on my neck. I run my finger along it and realize it’s a love bite. I remember Layla sucking on my neck last night, and I was buried too deep inside of her to make her stop.

“You’ll have to come so I can show you,” he says. He sounds like an excited little kid, eager to show off a new skill. “And maybe Layla can make some more of those chicken sandwiches.”

“You want us to come over there for a chicken sandwich?” Yeah, that’s not going to happen. I don’t want to make the trip up there, especially since I only have a few more weeks until training camp.

“I want to see you guys,” he says. “It’s so lonely here. Please.”

“Dad, you don’t have to be lonely. Come here,” I say, knowing full well that won’t happen. In fact, whenever I’ve uttered those words in the past, he would quickly end the phone call. That’s what I’m hoping he’ll do today, but luck is not on my side.

“I’m working on it, Seth.” I stare at the phone and frown. That’s new. And I immediately distrust it.

“Yeah, right,” I say. “Look, I’ll talk to Layla about it and see what she says. Her grandma is sick, so I don’t think she wants to go too far.”

“Oh,” he says. His voice drops like a kid who has just been told no, and I try to stuff down the feeling of guilt that overtakes me. What the hell do I have to feel guilty about when it comes to him? He’s the one who should feel guilty, not me.

“I’ll talk to her and get back to you tomorrow.” I can imagine him perking up on the other end of the call.

“Okay. I’m so excited to see you guys, and I know you’ll love my surprise. Talk to you tomorrow, Son. Ruby just got here.” I hear the housekeeper in the background saying hello. After greeting her, I end the call and sigh.

It’s been over a month since I saw my dad. In the off-season, I never go more than three weeks, but things have been so good at home that I hate to taint it with the special brand of crazy only he can dish out.

After being let in by Coach’s assistant, I barge into his office. Sassy runs to me and gets on her hind legs. She’s a huge Great Dane who likes to play, so I lift the bouquet of roses I’m holding above my head so she doesn’t get it.

“Good girl,” I say while I rub behind her ears. She barks and runs to the other side of his office. He stands, looks at me, and shakes his head.

“For me?” he asks, gesturing at the pink roses.

“In your dreams,” I say as I put the bouquet on his desk. “I’m just doing the bullshit you and Chastain do. Layla will eat this up,” I say with a cackle. “I already know what I’m getting her for Christmas,” I whisper to Coach. “Well, one of the things.”

He leans back in his chair and stares at me. “Christmas already? And it’s barely September,” he says. “You’re getting close to simp territory. I’d be careful if I were you.”

“Don’t you wish,” I toss out. “I’m gonna get her a fur coat like one of the ones Vickie has. Vickie loves them, and Layla is like a cult member when it comes to her. She eats up all that feminist bullshit she’s always talking about.” I plop down on the couch, pleased with myself for my plans for Christmas. The only downside of that is I have to go and see my dad, but I might just ditch him this year and have a nice holiday at home for once.

“I guess that bullshit is working then, huh?” he asks.

I shrug. “Why wouldn’t it?”

“And I know Layla’s getting a ton out of it, but what about you?” he asks. “What are you getting out of all this bullshit you’re doing?”

I grin at Coach and wiggle my brows. He sighs and shakes his head in what I think is disappointment, so I change course. “It’s the best,” I admit. “It’s nice having someone to come home to, and she’s great with Jasmine. Better than I could have imagined. She loves spending time with her, and she’s been understanding about my crazy ass father,” I throw in.

She not only talks to me about it, but she talks to my dad on the phone almost every day, which means I don’t have to do it as much. They even get on FaceTime together so he can see Jasmine.

“Stop calling him that,” Coach admonishes. “And that’s good,” he says about Layla.

“Yeah, because who wants to deal with all that when you don’t have to? I’m stuck with his ass, she’s not,” I say.

“How’s the therapy working?” Coach is the one who pushed me to find my father a new therapist when the first one wasn’t working. His first would only talk to him on Zoom, but thisone goes to the house. Instead of once a week, he’s now getting treatment three times a week.

“We’ll see. So far, he still won’t leave the house. And he won’t give the shrink permission to discuss their sessions with me. He says he doesn’t want to put that on me.” I roll my eyes. “He put everything else on me, so what’s one more thing, right? Like he gives a shit about me.”

Even as the words leave my mouth, I know they’re not true. He doesn’t love or care the way I want or need him to, but I know he cares. Though I will never admit it.

“Maybe this is his way of showing he cares. Whatever it was, he doesn’t want to impose it on you. Respect that, Seth. You’re a good kid and a good son.” I sit up and puff my chest out in pride at his words. Layla’s said the same thing about me being a good son but hearing it from another person almost makes me believe it. “And now you’re a good husband.” He gestures at the flowers. “Bringing your wife flowers on a random Friday for no reason. The simp life is—"

“Oh, please,” I say, interrupting whatever he was going to say next. “Seth Wakowski is no simp, but doing this is easy,” I say. “She loves sappy shit like that.”

“And last week when you came for dinner, she had your championship ring on a chain around her neck.”

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