Page 42 of The Masks We Burn
“You good?” Bellamy claps a hand on my shoulder, a soft grin on his face. “Blaze told me you used to play ball. We really appreciate you coming out and helping.”
I nod, my lips thinning to a line. “Yeah, I’m good. And naw, man, thank you for having me. This is gonna be great.”
It’s not a lie, but it also isn’t the truth. Bell nods though, then steps onto the grass with such ease, envy wraps around my spine and makes it hard to want to follow him. So I don’t.
Instead, I stare down at the edge, where the surrounding track meets the field, as my heart does a mile a minute into my rib cage. Chatter and kids’ laughter circulate around me, the cool breeze stinging my cheeks. I try to lift my head and find something or someone to ground me, but I know better; nothing here will help.
When I overheard Bellamy and Blaze talking about it the other night, I was on the phone with my mother. I was grabbing a damn snack when Blaze said he was excited to break away from the corporate world for a week to do a youth winter football camp. It’s a program run by Solace Academy’s football team during the off-season in the last week of January. They work with grades four through seven to help hone skills and run endurance drills.
I attempted to ignore it, but just like I was silent, listening to them talk about it, so was my mother. She immediately called my therapist and they both thought it would be a great idea. Not like the immersion therapy I did with helping other hurt athletes, but something along the same lines. Exposure therapy, they called it.
Momma knows best, I believe that with every fiber of my being, but right now, I’m struggling to still feel that way. I listen for my father’s words.
Ground yourself, son. You have to find something to tie you down so you’re not spinning. When you find it, don’t focus on anything but that.
I sigh, rubbing my left knee before finally deciding my best bet is to find Blaze or Bellamy. But when I look up, they’re both standing a few yards ahead, their eyes on me. My throat constricts as Bellamy says something to Blaze and walks toward me. He’s got a look in his eye that has the air thinning more than it already is.
Keeping my focus on Blaze as he disappears into the organized chaos in the middle of the field, Bell stands next to me, his hands in his bright red COACH hoodie. Nowthatfelt weird as hell putting on this morning. Even now, it’s itchy like fucking fire, feeling so out of place.
“You don’t have to say anything or tell me if I’m right, but I’m gonna take a guess here and say that the end of your football career wasn’t a choice.”
It’s not a question, so I don’t have to answer, right? Who am I kiddin’, I couldn’t even if I wanted to.
Bellamy rocks on his heels for a second before pulling down his hood. “I may not understand completely but I get it. It’s strong as hell of you to even be here right now.”
He waits a few minutes after that, though I’m not sure if it’s to see if I’ll join or to let me observe what’s going on. Either way, I do take a look.
Solace Academy, hands down, has the best state-of-the-art facilities—football stadium included. It’s massive, full of chrome, and has championship banners hanging around the upper levels. Yes, I said upper levels. On the field, there are about seven or eight stations set up with a handful of Solace athletes at each one, all of which are in red COACH hoodies, and beanies to fight against the chill.
In the middle, dozens of kids stand, talking and laughing, their excitement palpable in the air as they wait to be sorted.
Even though I can barely fucking breathe, I know one thing; I want to be out there.
But I can’t. At least not today.
I think at some point, Bellamy sees the resignation in my eyes and claps a hand on my shoulder again. “Just watch today if you can.”
“Thank you,” I say, my voice nearly cracking as the stinging starts at the edge of my eyes.
I stay in the same spot the entire time, watching silently while my mind stays blank. But then, little by little, play after play, memories trickle in one at a time, and soon enough I’m giving the players advice in my head. May not seem like much, but for me, it’s as though a weight was taken off my chest, and breathing was a fraction easier.
Two hours later, when I’m back at home, hot water coasting over my tight muscles, I realize I haven’t felt that alive in four years.
* * *
“Took you long enough,”Amora snaps, closing the door behind me.
She texted me while I was at the football camp and got fussy after an hour of being left on read. As much as I don’t want to read into that, I do. It helps me not feel as fucking crazy for how much she consumes my mind.
Other than seeing her leave my match, we haven’t talked in well over a week, and that shit was slowly driving me insane.
The warm air, mixed with her floral scent, wraps around me as I hit the couch, stretching out to take up half the cushions. Naturally, there’s an anime paused on the TV, but tonight, there’s also schoolwork scattered over her coffee table.
Oh, not schoolwork… job applications.
I turn to ask her where she’s trying to work but stop short at her face. It’s the sexiest fucking scowl I’ve ever seen, and the pink pigtail bun things do nothing but make her even cuter.
I want to tug them loose and wrap my hand in her hair.
