Page 112 of Necessary Roughness
After the fifth death threat, I closed Twitter and checked my voicemails. I opened the one from my mom first.
“Hi, Knox. Sorry about the game. Your father is being a real pill about it. I know we talked about getting dinner tonight, but we both feel it’s best to give you some space. We’re driving back to Atlanta now. Don’t let the loss get to you. I’ll call you tomorrow. Love you.”
I was relieved they’d gone home after the game; the last thing I wanted to do was spend dinner having my father point out all the mistakes I’d made during the game and lecture me about my need to focus. I already got enough of that from my coach.
But then I realized there was something my mom hadn’t mentioned: Sloane. She definitely would have said something about her, regardless of the game’s outcome. That was a bad sign, and only darkened my mood further.
There was a truck parked on the curb when I got home. I didn’t think much of it until I walked inside and saw Sloane carrying a cardboard box.
She froze, a guilty expression spreading across her face like a stain.
“Where are you going?” I asked. Why did she have a cardboard box?
“I…” She put the box down.
“Sloane,” I said, “What are you doing?”
She swallowed heavily, then crossed her arms. “I need to leave. I’m a distraction.”
The news felt like a knife being jabbed between my ribs.
“You’re not…”
“Yes,” she said more firmly than before. “I’m distracting you from what really matters. So I’m moving back into my apartment with Morgan, at least until the season is over.”
Sloane was the only good thing remaining in my life, the only person who I thought would be there for me regardless of what happened on the field. But now she was abandoning me, too. All my anger, all my frustration, boiled over until the only thing I could do was let it out.
“So that’s it?” I said, voice dripping with acid. “One bad game and you’re bailing on me?”
“What? No, I’m just—”
“Why do you get to decide what distracts me?” I demanded. “Why is it okay for you to unilaterally decide that the best thing for me is to leave?”
She tilted her chin up stubbornly. “I’ve hurt all of you. Roman broke his knuckles and might get kicked out of school. You’re being sued by my ex-boyfriend, which is going to affect your career! They’re saying you might not get drafted in the first round anymore!”
“Gee, thanks for throwingthatin my face,” I said. “You think I don’t know how my performance on the field affects my draft ranking? Sloane, it’s all I can think about!”
She raised her voice to match mine. “Then you know I have to leave!”
“Don’t do that,” I said. “You’re scared because things are getting serious between us.”
“What? I—”
“This morning, I invited you to meet my parents. And after meeting them, you’re moving out. Admit it. You’re scared.”
Sloane’s laugh was bitter. “This has nothing to do with your parents.”
“Really? Because you made one hell of an impression with them. They were supposed to stay for dinner, but now they’re driving all the way back to Atlanta.”
Rage passed across her eyes in a flash. “Actually, I never introduced myself to them.”
Another knife stab to my gut.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“You threw two interceptions at the beginning of the game, and—”
“Do you know how difficult it was to ask you to meet them? I’ve never felt so vulnerable before, but I wasn’t worried because I knew they would love you. But I guess you only meet the parents of quarterbacks who throw touchdowns.”
