Page 78 of Old Fashioned
I believed I was right.
And there was no in-between, not for either one of us.
I struggled with understanding her, especially after everything she’d told me about what Randy had done to her over the years. Here was the perfect opportunity to get him to answer for his evil, and she was too coward to stand up and make him pay.
I knew Paige complicated things, and that she was worried his power was too much, that we could never win.
But Paige was smart. She was kind-hearted.Sheknew right from wrong, and I believed in my gut that if she knew the full story, if her mother explained it to her, she would be okay. Maybe not immediately — but eventually. She was a tough kid like that.
Then again, did I have a right to say that, to believe that, when I’d never been a father? How could I ever fully understand the position I’d asked Sydney to put herself and her child in? How could I know what it feels like to make a decision that affects not only you, but a growing child, who will likely grow up differentlybecauseof that decision?
The answer was that I couldn’t.
And could I really say that we had nothing to worry about when it came to Randy, that the justice system would prevail and the bad guys would lose and the good guys would win?
Because, realistically, what proof of that did we haveanywhere?
If anything, the daily news only supportedherside of it — that right and wrong didn’t always matter, and sometimes, good people got fucked over.
But, it wasn’t her views on what the right thing to do in this situation was that upset me the most. That wasn’t what drove the nail deeper and deeper into my splitting chest, making breathing damn near impossible.
It was that I came to her with something I hadn’t told anyone. I trusted her. And when everything was said and done, I looked her in the eyes and told her that I needed her.
I need you, Sydney.
And she’d denied me.
My ribcage hollowed out at the reminder of it, but it was a stinging pain I was beginning to get used to — like chronic back ache after a sports injury. I subdued it as best I could, focusing on the clipboard of plays in my hand as I talked to Coach TK in a hushed voice, our eyes on the players on the field.
It didn’t matter now, what had happened between Sydney and me.
It was over.
Wewere over.
And maybe what hurt the most was that we had never really begun, at all.
I wished so badly to live in this moment that —beforeSydney — had been all I could dream about. I was at the State Championship game. My boys were warming up on the green turf of Tucker Stadium at Texas Tech. We were about to play the other top high school team in the state of Tennessee, to have the chance to prove thatwewere the best. The massive arena was filled with screaming football fans, with our entire town, everyone showing up to support us and cheer us on to another W.
This was all I’d wanted.
Until Sydney.
I felt her warmth even when she was on the complete opposite side of the benches from where I stood — which was where she aimed to be at all times, it seemed. She was keeping her head down, working on players, wrapping and taping and doing soft tissue work and ensuring we were ready to play.
“Time to get focused, Coach,” Elijah Braxton said from behind me, clapping me on the shoulder with a knowing look, like he could see I was a mess.
We’d been allowed to bring more people onto the field than we needed, and he’d been one of the fans we’d invited to be on the sideline with us. He was helping in whatever ways he could, getting water for the guys and helping run warm-ups, but for the most part, he stayed out of the way, watching.
And when he looked at me, looked at Sydney, and then gave me a knowing, sympathetic smile — my heart burned like a dying star.
I glanced at Sydney then, and our eyes met for one brief second before I jogged out onto the field for the coin toss.
In that one moment, we seemed to say a thousand things.
But I couldn’t understand a single one of them.
I heard Eli’s words like bell tolls in my ears when the coin was tossed and our players lined the field for kickoff. And with all the effort I had left, I shoved everything out of my head that wasn’t football. It was a skill I’d practiced and perfected when I was younger, when Dad had died and I was trying to figure out how to take care of Mom and be there for my brothers and somehow still get my career as a coach off the ground, too.
