Page 93 of The Pass Protection
“If you’re going to be a dick, there are other tables.”
Setting his sandwich on his plate, he rubs his hands up and down his face. His shoulders sag as he hangs his head forward. There’s no denying my brother is a grump. He’s always been broody and easily frustrated, but this Grant is entirely different. Deciding to drop the bratty little sister act, I reach out and grab his forearm.
“Grant.” His name is a whisper on my lips. “What’s going on?”
Eyes that match mine stare back at me. With a long exhale, he purges his frustrations. “Dad has been grooming me all season for a position he will have an opening for on his team next season. The job is mine as long as I want it. And I do, Addy, I want the job, but there’s so much pressure. Not to mention senior year classes and other shit I’m dealing with.”
“Does the other shit have to deal with a certain brunette with a killer smile?”
His eyes snap to mine as he glares at me. Looks like I hit the nail on the head. “Jesus, please tell me Savannah hasn’t been running her mouth at girls’ night to my sister.”
“No, she hasn’t said anything. I was just making an assumption, which you just confirmed.”
“Am I that transparent?” I shrug, taking another large bite of my burger as I clutch my stomach.
Cramps knot and twist deep in my lower belly. All I want to do is go home, curl up in a ball with a heating pad, and eat a bag of chips. Most people crave chocolate when they’re on their period, but I want all of the chips I can eat. Specifically, salt and vinegar and barbecue chips, mixed in a giant bowl so every bite is a surprise.
Grant skeptically stares at me. “What’s your deal?”
“Period.” He gags as I roll my eyes. “Anyway, we are discussing your problems today, not mine.”
“Sav and I have been off and on for three years. Neither one of us wants to make things official. She’s not here to get her M-R-S degree since she plans to move home to Kentucky, or so she says.”
“And what’s the position Dad has you training for?”
He uncaps his Coke and takes a long drink. The two of us have an unhealthy obsession with the dark soda. “He wants me to start next year under the wide receiver coach.”
My mouth drops open. “Holy shit, that’s huge.”
“It’s the dream, you know. So in all my free time”—he rolls his eyes—“I’ve been basically doing the role of a quality control assistant without the actual title. It’s been Dad’s way of testing me. After our games, I have until Tuesday to produce a report with player performance analysis with individual player stats, detailed player evaluations, and game performance analysis where I break down each game-by-game and third down and red zone efficiency.”
“That’sa lot,” I muse, shoving a fry in my mouth.
“That’s not even everything. He wants reports on opponents with a detailed analysis of their defensive backs and defensive schemes. So basically, on top of practices, fighting with Sav, my own reports, and assignments for class, I’m unofficially interning for Dad.”
“Sounds like you might have to put this thing with Savannah on the back burner, especially if it’s more stress on top of everything.”
Grant leans back in his chair as his eyes flit around the room. “It’s hard when she’s all I can fucking think about.”
I understand where you are coming from, Grant, more than you know. The heart wants what the heart wants, no matter how complicated the situation may be. At the end of the day, it’s up to the mind to figure out how to make it happen.
Of course, I don’t tell him that. That truth would open a whole other line of conversation, and I’m not ready for that can of worms.
“Enough about me and my bullshit. Everything going well with you? I mean, I’d love it if you’d tell me why you’re here, but considering you’ve evaded that conversation, I’m gonna drop it. Just know I’m here if you ever need to talk.”
Resting my elbow on the table, I lean forward and stare at my brother. Dark circles live under his eyes, and his hair is messy and mussed as if he’s run his hands through it all day. Growing up, Grant has always been my best friend, confidant, and protector, but everything changed last year when I pushed him away when a rage of desperation told me to scream at him to get his own life and stop acting like a helicopter parent.
The look on his face was as if I’d reached inside his chest and ripped out his heart. If I would have slapped him across the face, I think it would have hurt less. Of course, I’ve apologized, and he’s said he forgives me, but we aren’t the same. Now, here I am, sitting across from him, lying to his face about my life at Central Texas University.
I’m the worst little sister. And once again, I pray to the heavens that he’ll forgive me again when everything comes crashing down around me.
“Thank you for respecting that, and I’m still sorry about everything.” Moisture wells in my eyes as I stare up at the ceiling, blinking away the tears.
“Don’t, Addy. It’s in the past.” He grabs my hand and squeezes. A soft but stoic look passes over his face.
Clearing my throat, I offer him a small smile. “Yes, the past is in the past, and I have to say that I love it here. Everything about CTU feels like home. I’m truly happy here.”
“You definitely fit in, that’s for sure.”
