Page 46 of Unbreakable
“How would you feel about adding an A to your jersey?”
“Sir? For real?” I asked. “Dottie will kill me. I’m honored, but you’re putting a target on my back.”
“They’re pushing back on you, but they’re hearing you. Keep it up and we’ll have you taking the C from Jones. You might need to take him under your wing a bit, captain to captain. This place is falling apart, but if we keep pushing, we might actually get somewhere this year.”
I hesitated. Of course, I’d love to take a leadership position again. It had always come naturally to me, but it could have a lot of consequences for a team already walking on eggshells.
“I’ll think about it.”
TWENTY
DYLAN
NOW | NOVEMBER
Big news when I get home
I got homefrom the game late, heading into the kitchen where I knew Jeannie would have left me out some snacks.
But what I found when I walked into the kitchen was an empty countertop and Jeannie sitting at the island.
“Oh,” I said, assessing the no-snack situation. “Tired tonight, babe?”
Jeannie rolled her lips, her eyes going glassy.
“You don’t have to get my snacks. I’ve got it. Were the kids good tonight?”
“Yeah, they were fine,” she said quietly. I poked around in the fridge, unearthing a half-eaten container of grocery store sushi.
“Nice,” I said, popping the top and turning to face her at the island. “So, Coach said they might give me an A soon.”
“Oh,” she said, her lips forming the weakest smile to even count as a smile.
A wave of panic came over me. Weak smiles never boded well. I worked to chew and get the piece of sushi roll in my mouth to a manageable size so I could talk. “What’s wrong, J?”
She sucked in a deep breath, pushing it out evenly. “Dylan,” she said, her chest flushing, “I don’t think I can do this anymore.”
My chewing slowed as I realized I’d completely misread the room coming in. I swallowed quickly and gulped my electrolyte drink. “Jeannie. What?”
“I’m going to go spend some time with my family,” she said, her eyes devoid of feeling, her voice robotic like she’d rehearsed this.
“J, I’m your family. The kids. We love you so much.”
“Your mom will be here to watch the kids, so you shouldn’t need to hire any help?—”
“You’re leaving?”
We’d been here before, but not for a long, long time. I called it “the old bag trick.” She’d really only done it when I didn’t defend her to my mom after she miscarried. Jeanine packed a bag and acted like she was leaving. I begged for her back and she stayed. I crawled in bed with her and made sure she knew how much I loved her. It was miserable, but we worked through it. We got back to me and J against the world and had been mostly harmonious since.
And I guess there was the time she dropped her depression medication dosage too quickly, and her brain decided to tell her that I hated her and thought she was “ugly and frivolous” (her words). It was much easier that time to talk her into staying. It was a simple matter of her brain’s chemistry being off, not an issue we were having.
“Not . . . leaving, per se,” she said, casting her eyes down. “Just taking a little break.”
I planted my hands on the counter and hung my head. “How can I help? I know I haven’t been as supportive as I could be lately. Do you need me to find you a new therapist? I know that’s hard for you.”
“Dylan, this isn’t about therapy.” She took a shaky inhale. “It’s you.”
My brow wrinkled and the space behind my nose stung like I’d just gotten popped in the face. “It’s me? Just me? You’re telling me you haven’t been depressed since we moved here.”
