Page 51 of The Silent Count
Her little sarcastic remarks never fail to pull up one corner of my mouth into a smile. She has a way of always making me laugh, even when we’re talking about a subject as harrowing as Vince.
“Mom’s actually the one who told me. She said he texted her the other day and asked if she wanted to come along…get this… as hisdate. Is that not the funniest thing you’ve ever heard?”
“Doesn’t Vince know she got remarried a decade ago?”
“Apparently not,” she laughs. “Well, I’ve gotta go. My four o’clock lesson just walked in. Call me tomorrow if you need any back up, and I’ll be on a plane within the hour.”
“You live an hour and a half from the closest airport… without traffic.”
“Way to ruin our cute brother-sister moment. I’ve really got to go now.I’lltalktoyoulaterloveyoubye.” The way she says the last sentence makes it sound like it’s one giant word.
Shaking my head, I toss my phone into my duffle, then zip it up. I’m ready to get home and spent a relaxing night on the couch with my girl before the stress of the game—and Vince’s presence—hits me like a fucking brick tomorrow morning.
“Parker, can I talk to you real quick?” Coach calls from the doorway of his office.
“Hey, Coach. What’s up?”
There’s a somber look on his face that puts me at ease, like all the chaos from the last few days has washed away. I think his ability to brush off hardship is part of what makes him such a great coach.
“Listen, son. I don’t want to take the place of any father figures you might have in your life, but I want to remind you that my door is always open. We can talk about football or your personal life. Anything you want,” he explains. “You’re dating my daughter, which makes you more than just one of my players. You got that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You are our family now.” His words are like a punch to the gut and a warm hug at the same time. I’ve never had a fatherly figure in my life, and now that Coach will be that for me… it’s an honor. One I’ll never be able to repay him for. “I’m not going to take it easy on you during practices, though. I meant it when I said you’ve got the potential to be one of the greatest. Lea is my world, and it sure would be nice if you stuck around here for a few more years, so I don’t have to miss out on time with my daughter.”
“I understand. I meant what I said when I told you I’ll make you proud, Coach. On and off the field.”
“I know, son.” He pulls me in for a hug and tears well in the corners of my eyes. “I know.”
TWENTY-TWO
LEA
“You’re goingto do great today.”
“I know.” Fortune’s tone isn’t cocky, but it’s certain.
Like he knows how hard he’s worked. Like nothing can change his mind about how well his game will be today. Win or fail, it’s going to be a good game for him, and he knows that.
My legs hang off the edge of his bed. Bare and pale—no thanks to the cold front that’s breezed through Miami recently. I’m generally not one to lie out on the beach in early January regardless, but my complexion looks a lot livelier when I’m able to get outside more. Take walks through the neighborhood. Drink coffee on the back deck with Fortune in the mornings.
Maybe after the playoffs, the two of us can sneak away for a vacation. Somewhere hot with lots of sun.
“Dad and I talked about Vince coming today and we’re going to do our best to keep him preoccupied before the game and during warm-ups so the two of you won’t cross paths. I have already informed security not to let him into the locker room.” Fortune nods as he slips one leg into a pair of navy-blue sweatpants he pulled from the drawer. “After the game, it’ll be harder to control since he’ll be on the field during the game for The League alumni event and can easily slip into the family room, but I can try to intercept if you don’t want to talk to him—”
“I want to talk to him.”
“You…” I pause, tipping my head to the side. Fortune doesn’t look up, keeping his green eyes locked on the cream-colored rug as he steps into the other pant leg and pulls them up to his waist. “You want to talk to Vince?”
The defensiveness hits me like a wave, overpowering my rational thoughts. Fortune is grown and more than capable of making decisions on his own, but that doesn’t mean I want to sit back and watch him get hurt by his father’s words and actions.
“‘Want’ isn’t exactly the word I’d use. More like I need to get closure. Allow myself to have one last conversation with him before he’s out of my life forever. My sister did the same thing a few years ago, and she says she doesn’t regret making the choice to cut him off. If anything, the last conversation with him solidified her decision even further.”
“Do you think you’d regret not talking to him one last time? Is that why you’re doing it?”
“No.” His tone is firm as he shakes his head. “My mind is made up, but I don’t want to leave anything on the table. I doubt he’d let me get away without some sort of final conversation, either. Especially since he came all the way from New York to be here.”
It pains me to see him so stressed, and I wish I could shoulder some of that weight for him. He’s already under so much pressure right now with playoffs approaching and contract talk starting. Having a last goodbye with Vince—even one that will absolve Fortune of his presence forever—is a heavy weight to add to the mix.
