Page 89 of Broken Ties (Rixon High 4)

It felt like goodbye.

I wasn’t sure I was ready for that. But the chances of Aaron ever asking me were nonexistent. And even if he did, it wouldn’t be in the way I hoped.

God, why did I keep doing this to myself?

Hiking my bag up my shoulder, I headed for the gym and what I hoped would be a distraction free ninety minutes.

I needed to focus on something else.

Anything besides Aaron Bennet and his stupid traitorous lips and cruel cowardly words.

After I got finished with Coach Yardley, I wandered out toward the football field. Dad had driven me in this morning since Sofia was at home, and Ashleigh and Ezra were still in the lovesick puppy phase, so unless I wanted to walk home, I had to wait for him.

He spotted me heading over to the bleachers and waved.

The team were mid-play, Ezra sprinting down left field as Cole dropped back and hiked the ball in his direction. It was the perfect pass and Ezra flew into the air with gravity-defying height to snatch it into his body.

“That’s the one,” Dad boomed, clapping his hand against his clipboard.

He loved this game, this team. It radiated from every single inch of him. Aside from his family, football was Dad’s life. And he wanted nothing but good things for each and every one of his players.

They ran the play again, and again, slightly tweaking the arrangement. Defensive players charged at Ezra but he was fast. Really freaking fast. How he’d never ended up playing football before this season was still a travesty. But football wasn’t important to Ezra, not the way it was to my dad. To Aaron. And the rest of Rixon.

Everyone thought Aaron was the laid-back, easygoing joker of our class. He didn’t take himself too seriously or put too much pressure on himself. But I knew better.

Aaron was his own biggest critic. He’d lived in his dad’s shadow ever since the first time he held a ball in his hands. He was just damn good at hiding it, at protecting himself from the inevitable disappointment. Because he truly believed he wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t the star quarterback or the rising star wide receiver. He was the steady heartbeat of the team. The player everyone took for granted. The one who rarely saw glory or those big heart-stopping game-winning moments.

But it didn’t stop him from giving his all. From showing up and getting the job done. Nobody worked as hard as Aaron, but it wasn’t enough. And for him, that would always be his downfall.

I found him sitting on the bench by the assistant coaches, going over some plays. He couldn’t practice yet, not with his arm still taped. His eyes kept flicking from the clipboard in Coach Macintosh’s hand to the field where his teammates were running another play.

He motioned to something and Coach Macintosh nodded, hollering new instructions to the players. My dad watched them with interest. And I wonder if he saw what I saw. A young man who knew the game—his team—inside out.

My dad blew his whistle and beckoned the team in. One by one they fell into rank forming a semi-circle around him and Aaron. I couldn’t hear his pep talk but I’d heard them enough to know the gist. Play hard. Fight hard. Love hard. That had been their motto back in the day, one that usually made appearances at family celebrations after they’d had one too many drinks.

But I’d always liked it. The idea that love should come above all else.

Even football.

Dad clapped Aaron on the back and dismissed the team, but Aaron lingered, the two of them deep in conversation. Finally, Dad gripped Aaron’s shoulder, nodding as he spoke. But when Aaron walked away his head was hung low, defeat trailing behind.

I waited for the field to clear then hopped down the bleachers and greeted my dad. “What was all that about?” I asked.

“I’m sure Aaron will tell you.”

“I doubt it,” I murmured.

“You two still in a strange place?”

I shrugged. “It’s senior year. We’re not kids anymore.”

“No. No you are not.” His eyes flicked to where Aaron had disappeared into the building. “He’s too hard on himself.”

“No news yet?”

He shook his head. “And honestly? I’m not sure it’ll come. But he was so adamant about Pittsburgh. I should have encouraged him to broaden his horizons.”

“What will happen if he doesn’t get an offer from Connecticut or Iowa?”

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