Page 89 of Player Misconduct
I look away, eyes burning. He reaches across the table like he wants to touch me, but I pull back before he can.
“You should’ve told me sooner,” I whisper.
“I wanted to tell you in person,” he says. “You deserve to hear it from someone who actually gives a damn. Who knows what she’s like.”
He didn’t believe my mother could be so ruthless when we first met. He grew up differently than I did. Divorced parents but at least they had his best interest at heart. They poured into his football career. He never could understand how a mother could lack any maternal instincts–to be so cold and cruel. He eventually saw it for himself, when he would give and she was never content, only ever demanding more, bringing crazy boyfriends that caused scenes at the games. He finally stopped thinking he could fix it for me.
I did love him for that. His hope for me. And the way he held me tighter than anyone has ever hugged me when realization finally came. “You deserve so much better Kendall.” he whispered against my ear, and that was the first time I let myself believe it.
I needed to see that I was worth more than that in the eyes of the man who loved me.
Maybe that’s why letting go of those years when Tarron was good to me are still hard, but with Aleksi, it makes letting go so much easier. Even on Tarron’s best days, he doesn’t hold a candle to Aleksi… not even close.
“I won’t say another word to the press,” he says finally. “You have it. My word.”
Whatever good his word is…
But it’s the best I’m going to get. I’ll have to wait and see.
I let my shoulders drop a fraction. “Thank you.”
“But it comes with one small condition,” he says with a teasing smile.
“Oh God,” I say, rolling my eyes. “What now?”
“Come to opening game day. You can wear a ski mask over your face for all I care. Just come and sit in my seats. I want to know that you're there when I take the field.”
“Tarron– I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Please… I won’t ask for anything else.”
It’s hard for me to imagine that this is the last thing but it’s the only leverage I have to make him keep his mouth shut.
“If you stop talking to the press about me, and anything to do with this baby… I will consider it.” I tell him, because I’m not making any promises.
“Right now, my priority is staying employed and keeping this pregnancy uncomplicated. Meaning low stress.”
“Which my big mouth does not help,” he says, knowing full well.
“Correct,” I say. “You only care about winning.”
He tips his head, unoffended. “Is that always a bad thing?”
“Depends what the prize is.”
He looks at my stomach, longingly, so I wad up a napkin and toss it at his face. He doesn’t get to want something he gave up so easily, because I already know that what he wants changes by the hour.
“What,” he says with a crooked smile.
“Don’t look at my pregnant belly like that. It gives me the creeps.”
He glances down at the pizza and chuckles, then his eyes meet mine again.
“Just for the record–and I’m not saying this to lower your defenses, because I know that’s what you’re going to assume–I know I let go of the best thing I ever had.”
“I know… your football career with New York. That truly was a loss, I agree. You’re an idiot.”
He gives me a side eye look that he knows I’m deflecting what he’s trying to say.
