Page 55 of Chasing The Goal
I sat there, surrounded by soft breathing and low lights, pretending I didn’t feel the whole class glance toward me like they were expecting me to chase him.
I didn’t.
Not right away.
I finished the practice, let my body sway through the motions, and when Sharon dismissed us for a short break, I gathered my things and followed. Truthfully I needed time to gather my thoughts, just as much as he needed air. I found Jackson outside, pacing along the sidewalk near the front entrance, arms folded across his chest like he was trying to contain whatever storm had risen up inside him.
“Hey,” I said, keeping my tone light. “You okay?”
Helooked up, startled, like he’d forgotten I existed beyond the room.
“Yeah. I just... Jesus, Mal. That was intense.”
I leaned against the wall next to him, letting the cool brick chill my back.
“It’s supposed to be,” I said. “It’s kind of an intense thing.”
He exhaled hard, rubbing his hands over his face.
“I know. I thought I could handle it. But sitting in there, hearing about contractions and tearing and—God—the video... I just... I couldn’t breathe.”
There was no judgment in me. Not really. Just a quiet ache, low and pulsing.
“Jackson,” I said gently, “this isn’t easy for anyone. But I don’t get to panic and walk out. I have to do this.”
His eyes flicked to mine, guilt rising fast and hot.
“I’m not trying to bail,” he said quickly. “I just needed air. I want to be here. I really do. It’s just... a lot.”
“It is a lot,” I said. “But you have to be in it, not just around it.”
He nodded, eyes on his shoes.
“I’m trying,” he said. “I want to be the guy you can count on. I want to prove that I’m serious.”
I studied him. The way his fingers fidgeted. The line of tension in his jaw. The genuine effort tangled with fear.
“I know you’re trying,” I said. “But this—this baby—doesn’t need someone who shows up halfway and then disappears when it gets uncomfortable. I need to know that you’re here all in, even when it’s messy. Especially then.”
Helooked at me for a long beat, the silence stretching like a string between us.
“I want to be,” he said. “But I don’t know if I know how.”
And there it was.
The thing I’d been afraid of all along.
That his words might be promises he wanted to keep—but couldn’t.
That he loved the idea of stepping up more than the reality of it.
I sighed. “Okay. Then let’s figure it out. Together. Or not at all. But don’t pretend you can carry this if you can’t.”
He looked down again, shame clouding his expression.
“I’ll come back in,” he said.
I shook my head. “No. It’s okay. Go home. Think about this. Really think about it.”
