Page 77 of Sexting the Coach
“Okay,” Drew says, when I’ve calmed down enough not to seem like the human embodiment of a panic attack. “Can we talk?”
A fresh surge of anxiety rushes up inside me. “I’d rather not.”
“Why?”
“I…already know what you’re going to say,” I mutter, looking away from him. “Trust me, Drew, I still feel guilty.”
“That’s exactly the problem.”
Thatmakes me look at him. “What? But you said?—”
He holds up a hand, then uses it to scrub impatiently through his hair. “I know what I said, Elsie. And I’ve been trying toun-say it for like, five years.”
My heart beats hard enough to rock my body as I stare at him. When I first saw him here, I thought it was going to be another chance for him to tear me to pieces, to tell me how I ruined his life. And yet, here he is,notsaying that.
Un-saying it.
“What?” Maybe it’s a dumb thing to say, but it’s the only word that rises to the top of my consciousness.
Drew laughs, looks up at the ceiling, and leans forward, pulling out a throw pillow and settling it in his lap. “This is going to take a second. Are you in a good place to listen?”
I blink at him, at the maturity. As I look at him, I realize something I couldn’t when I was running from him at Trader Joe’s. Drew looks different. And it’s more than his hair, grown out long enough to brush over the tips of his ears. It’s something behind his eyes, something settled and still.
Content.
I nod, and Drew starts.
“After the accident, I was pissed at you. And I said a lot of things I shouldn’t have because I was hurting, and I was too young to know that hurting you wasn’t really going to make me feel better.”
I shake my head. “No, you?—”
He holds up his hand, “Let me talk.”
It’s not unkind, but firm. I settle back into the couch, nodding and taking another sip of my tea, not missing the significance of him bringing it to me.
“Time went on. I got better. Then I went to college, and I flunked out the first year.”
I gasp without meaning to, and it makes the corner of his mouth quirk.
“Right,” he says, shaking his head and rubbing at the back of his neck. “Crazy, right? Perfect Drew. Mom and Dad would have killed me, if they found out. But my academic adviser saw me,realized what was going on. He forced me to go to counseling. At first, I hated it, but then I realized how freeing it was to talk, openly like that.”
Drew looks up and meets my gaze, holds it, “Obviously, tearing my ACL was not a good experience. But first, it wasn’t fair to blame you. It was an accident, and we were kids. Second, I’m pretty sure it’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”
I open my mouth, but close it when I remember I promised to let him talk. Drew goes on, “Hockey was never mypassion. I just loved it because it made Dad love me. And when I lost that connection with him, I blamed it on you. But after everything settled, and when I was sitting in an office with that counselor, I realized that hockey had been a time suck for me, keeping me from doing what I always wanted to do.”
“Painting,” I say, without thinking, and I flush, shaking my head. “Sorry, I won’t interrupt?—”
“You’re right,” Drew leans forward, reaching out and tapping my knee once before leaning back. Something shines there in his eyes, and I recognize it from the way Weston had looked at me before. Being seen. “Painting. I always brushed off the praise from the art I did in high school because I didn’t want to feel it. Didn’t want my hopes too high. But after hockey wasn’t an option anymore, it made me confront everything about that. The fact that Dad didn’t understand it, all that shit about toxic masculinity. If I couldn’t do hockey, then I should at least go into venture capital or something. But that’s not what I wanted to do. So, I didn’t.”
“You…didn’t?”
“No,” Drew smiles, “and if you opened your mail you’d know that. I’ve been trying to invite you to my galleries for ages.”
“Your galleries.”
“Repeat, much?”
It pulls a laugh out of me. It’s watery, and I feel my sadness hovering just beneath it, but it’s a laugh all the same. “So,” I say, staring down into the tea. “You’re not mad at me anymore?”
