They stopped and came over to talk with him. Even DeMarcus, who had insulted him for playing badly before he was knocked out, stopped and came over to talk.
Maybe he’d wanted to prove everything was okay by running into the end zone.
Or it could be he had his father’s face in front of him as he plowed through guys for that score.
Who the hell even knew anymore?
He assured everyone he was doing well and on the mend and hoped to be back soon.
He wasn’t sure if it was a lie to himself or them.
Once he was home, he called his mother to give her an update on the exam.
“That sounds good,” his mother said. “I’m glad you’ll be out a few more weeks. I selfishly wish it was longer.”
He couldn’t tell her he was thinking the same thing. That would only worry her more. He’d kept most of his worries to himself in life and would continue to.
“We’ll just take it day by day,” he said. “Have fun with the girls.”
“We will,” his mother said. “I’m glad you’ve got Emma with you for the holiday. I would have told your sisters to go alone if I thought you’d be by yourself.”
“I won’t be,” he said.
He wasn’t going to say he was going to be alone tonight and tomorrow though. He was meeting Emma at her parents’ house on Thursday, midmorning.
She’d told him if she got everything done on time, she’d go over on the ferry Wednesday night so she wasn’t rushing Thursday. He wanted her to come here, but that was almost another hour for her, and they’d just spent two weeks together.
Two great weeks for him and he thought the same for her.
Half the time she ignored he was even there. There were some nights he had no idea when she came to bed, but he’d wake up and she’d be sleeping next to him or curled up against his side.
She wasn’t even tossing and turning or kicking the covers off as much. As if she had gotten used to not being alone.
At least he hoped that was the case.
He sent a text to Emma next to call when she had a moment. Who knew when that would be?
He was doing laundry from his clothes at Emma’s when his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket thinking it was Emma, but it was his father.
He wouldn’t be a coward and put this off again.
It needed to stop taking up space in his life.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“Warren?” his father said.
“Yeah,” he said.
“Are you okay? No one is getting back to me. Not even your girlfriend.”
“What?” he asked. “You reached out to Emma? How? When?”
“On Facebook,” his father said. The same voice in his nightmares. The man he never wanted to be and knew he wouldn’t.
No one could be that selfish.
But was he being that by continuing to play because he thought just a few more years and some more money would set everyone up for life?
