Page 217 of For the Fans
My head tilts, because I guess she has a point.
She grins. “Butfootball… Football is do or die. I read a statistic the other day that said one hundred percent of players in the NFL suffer injuries of some kind. One. Hundred. Percent. That means no matter what, you’re guaranteed to get hurt. How messed up is that?” She breathes a soft laugh, like she’s awed by this staggering fact. “American football is by far the most thrilling of all the big, traditional sports. It’s almost barbaric in a way, but it’s complex and captivating, if you can catch on. Football isn’t just game, it’s alifestyle. It’s heart-pumping, adrenaline spiking action, from start to finish.”
Smirking, I narrow my gaze at her. “Are you a Patriots fan? Because you sound like one…”
Bridget throws her head back in laughter that has me chuckling. Then she aims a knowing look at me. “You better be prepared, kid. This is just the beginning… If Kyran gets drafted to the NFL, you’re gonna need a sedative.”
Yea, that’s what I’m afraid of.
Taking a large gulp of my beer, I allow the substance to calm me as much as it can. “The thing is, I’m not afraid he won’t win. He isthatgood. But I just… I worry about how much pressure he puts on himself. To be the best, ya know?”
She nods, her eyes shifting away from mine as she sips from her cup.
I need to know what she knows… I need to know what I’m up against, being with Kyran.
“You know, when he was little, he used to be so chill,” she says, staring off into space. “He was the kid all the other kids wanted to be around. Always smiling and laughing.”
I’m reeling from what I’m hearing right now.Are we talking about KyranHarbor??
Bridget keeps talking. “And it wasn’t because he was raised that way or anything, because trust me, my dad worked constantly. And as soon as we were old enough to fend for ourselves, my mom backed way off. But that didn’t matter to us, because we had each other. Nothing else mattered…” Her voice trails off a bit before she mumbles, “It was like us against the world.”
Her expression grows less nostalgic and more remorseful as she sips her drink. “But then we grew apart a little… I started paying more attention to my friends. I mean, I was fourteen, it’s just what you did. It’s the most selfish time in any kid’s life. Kyran lost his carefree side, and started following the rules more… The only place he always felt comfortable was the football field.”
She smiles whimsically, and my lips curve, a warmth of pride for how far he’s come filling my chest.
But then Bridget’s smile falls away and she murmurs, “I should have paid more attention… to why he was becoming so nervous. I should have been there more… told my father to fuck off with that—” Her voice cuts out, and she peeks at me. But she doesn’t finish her sentence. She just gulps her drink back fast.
I’m just staring at her, confused and uneasy, because this isn’t about a divorce. There’s something else going on here.
“Bridget…” I speak her name firmly, and her eyes flit to mine again. “Why did your parents split up?” She stares at me,chewing on her bottom lip. “What happened that made you both want to escape so badly…?”
Her jaw drops as she gapes up at me, so much guilt and anguish in her eyes, I can almost feel it hitting me in waves. She looks like she’s about to say something… Like it’s on the tip of her tongue and she wants to unburden herself so badly, it’skillingher not to.
But then people start filing by us, back to their seats, a commotion likely indicating that halftime is almost over.
And she clears her throat, giving her chin a little shake. “I’m gonna grab another drink before we head back.”
I watch her wandering away with her head down, my mind sifting through her words.If Kyran used to be so free-spirited… what clipped his wings?
That’s it. I’m gonna puke.
My heart is officially lodged in my throat, and I can barely breathe.
This game is driving me to drink. I’m not sure what happened at halftime, but Notre Dame came back with a fire under their asses.
They scored two touchdowns on back-to-back drives, and their defense pulled out all the stops. I’m guessing they realized Kyran is a force to be reckoned with, because they’ve been all over our receivers, forcing us to run the ball, which can only take us so far. To top things off, Theo missed a field goal… His first miss of the season.
I feel awful. Theo is a crazy talented kicker, and I just know the pressure probably got to him.
I remember him storming off the field, whipping his helmet at the bench so hard it scuffed the paint. Kyran was trying to talk to him, grabbing him by the arm like he wanted to calm his friend down. But Theo was visibly pissed, and I get it.
The Eagles needed the points. And we still do now.
We’re down by fourteen, with only five minutes left in the game. Coach Matthews is visibly screaming at the huddle of our offense. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but I have to assume he’s not happy, and that he’s putting the fear of God in these players right now.
That man has always sort of terrified me. He’s so quiet… Until he isn’t.
“Kyran’s gonna do something,” I mumble, pushing past the doubt in my voice. “He has to.”
