Page 20 of Penance
I plant my feet wide, staring down at him while I wait for an answer, and for once, he has the sense to look sheepish.
“Look, it’s not what you think—” he starts, but I’m done listening.
Shaking my head, I head back the way we came. Hayes might have driven me here, but I’ll walk before I have this conversation.
My kid wants to play baseball. I get that, and I know Hayes has his best interest at heart, but right now, I have bigger things to worry about, like keeping custody.
“Theo, wait,” Hayes calls. Two sets of footsteps follow me, but I keep moving. I’m out the door in two seconds, stopping on the front stoop and gulping in the cool air as heat washes over my body.
But stopping was a mistake because it gave Hayes an opportunity to catch up with me, and I really am afraid I’ll punch him.
“Would you just listen for a minute?” he says, shoving his hands through his hair.
“Listen to you?” I scoff, indignation smothering me. “I’m trying notto lose my kid, and you want to talk about baseball.”
Hayes opens his mouth to reply, but a gruff voice beats him to it.
“There’s more than one way to lose a person,” Silas says, “and I think you already know that.”
My movements are slow and controlled as I turn my head to look at the stranger who knows nothing about me besides what he’s been told. Hayes’s head swivels back and forth between me and the older man, his brows puckered.
“What did you just say?” I ask, the threads of my anger unraveling quicker than I can stop them.
Silas is standing in his doorway, his shoulder leaning against the frame with the milkshake still in his hand, but there’s a hardness in his eyes that sets my teeth on edge.
He cocks his head sideways as if considering me, and then, after a moment, says, “You heard what I said.”
A short laugh slips from my lips, but it’s humorless. “You’re right. I did. You don’t know anything about me, so don’t assume you do.”
“Theo—” Hayes says my name as a warning, but Silas merely holds up his hand.
“Maybe I don’t know you personally, but I know the weight of regret. Hold on to it long enough, and you learn to recognize it in others. I saw it in you the moment I opened my door.” He stops, letting what he says sink in before he continues. “I played football. I was good at it, too—until I lost it. I’ve been in that kid’s shoes. The drive to play—to compete—it doesn’t go away. He needs to feel useful somewhere, and if he doesn’t get that—well, you might as well prepare yourself for trouble.”
“Tanner is a good kid,” I growl, not liking what he’s implying, but Silas doesn’t argue with me like I thought he would.
He simply nods and says, “He is, but trouble doesn’t care if you’re good or bad. It can find all of us, especially when we are lost.”
I open my mouth to respond, but Hayes cuts me off.
“Look,” he says, his voice far calmer than I’m feeling, “we both know this custody thing could cause Tanner to spiral. He’s going to need something to keep him steady, and I think baseball could do that for him.”
“And I’m supposed to risk his life for that?”
“No,” Hayes says simply. “I wouldn’t be asking you to make this decision if I thought it would risk his life. I spoke with Dr. Harrison—”
His words trail off as if he knows he has crossed a line.
Dr. Harrison is Hayes’s soon-to-be father-in-law. He was the one who diagnosed Tanner with post-concussion syndrome. He’s also the one who said Tanner couldn’t play football anymore.
He stands still, waiting for my anger, but to both of our surprise, it doesn’t come. He doesn’t know it, but he did me a favor by making that call. I have Dr. Harrison’s number. He gave it to me after Tanner was hospitalized, but I’ve been putting off that conversation.
I haven’t been honest with myself until right now. Since the moment Hayes mentioned Tanner wanting to play, I’ve been afraid. Terrified.
“What—” I pause, swiping my hand over my mouth and steeling my nerves. “What did he say?”
Hayes’s eyes pierce through me, no doubt wondering at my change in attitude. His jaw works back and forth, considering me before he says, “He can play.”
And that’s precisely what I’ve been afraid of.
