“Yeah, we can go back to mine,” he says, completely missing my point. “But all the guys will be home, so if you don’t feel like rehashing everything that just happened—”
“Rehashing?” I say, cutting him off. “I didn’t want to live through it the first time. I can’t believe you punched him.”
“I know. I probably could have handled things differently,” he tells me.
And that’s when I lose my shit. I pull off to the side of the road, put my car in Park, and turn to face him. “Handled things differently?Are you for real right now? Maybe you should not have handled them at all. I told you I had it covered. You said you trusted me to deal with Chaz, and a couple of hours later, you fucking assaulted him!Do you know how bad that is?”
“He was hurting you,” he protests.
“I had it handled,” I repeat. “I was about to kick him in his fucking balls when you burst onto the scene and made everything ten times worse.”
I can almost see Will’s frustration bubble over.“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re mad that I told some middle-aged guy to leave you the fuck alone?”
Closing my eyes, I take a calming breath and count to ten. It doesn’t help. “I’m not mad…I’m just…upset about the way you handled it.”
Will’s jaw drops. “The way I handled it? The hell? It’s a lot better than how you handled it. Jesus. You let that douche walk all over you. You’re the toughest person I know, except when it comes to him. What the hell? He lied and manipulated you and his wife, and Christ knows how many other people, and I’m the asshole here? How is that possible?”
I shake my head. “You are not the asshole, Will, you’re the child. Your immaturity is the issue— you can’t punch someone because you don’t like what they did to me.”
“I didn’t punch him because I’m immature. I punched him because he’s an asshole and he was about to grab you for the second time.”
I shake my head. “I get that you didn’t like the way he was grabbing me—I didn’t like it either, which is why I ducked and got out of there. You should never have punched him. That’s not the way an adult would handle things. You weren’t thinking about the repercussions and what this could mean for you or for me. You hit a professor, Will. That could get you kicked off the team! God, do you even think before you act?”
“Yeah, Mel,” he says, sounding wounded. “I was thinking about you.”
“No, you weren’t. You were reacting, and I can’t—” I brace my hands on the steering wheel and close my eyes, trying to gather my thoughts and calm down.
“You can’t what, Mel?” he asks. “Are you—are you breaking up with me?”
I take another deep breath. “No, I just think we both need time and space, ok? A lot happened today, and our emotions are running high. If we continue this conversation, we’re both going to say things we don’t mean, things we might regret.”
“You’re breaking up with me,” he says, sounding lost.
“I’m not. I’m just stepping back for a second to regain my focus and figure out what’s best for both of us.”
“What’s best for both of us?” he asks, his voice raspy. “What’s best for us is each other. We’re a team, Mel. Yeah, I fucked up, but—”
“Please, Will,” I say, tears threatening, and god, do I hate to cry. “Let’s just take some space, ok? We can talk in a day or two, when we’ve both had a minute to process, ok?”
“Yeah, whatever, sounds good,” he mumbles mindlessly as he exits the car and starts walking the remaining two blocks to his house. Part of me wants to call to him, to chase after him, but I know I need a little distance, and I think he does, too.
47
Will
Iwoke up this morning tangled in my girlfriend’s sheets, breathing in the scent of her. And now, less than twelve hours later, I don’t know where we stand. My life’s been turned upside down in one short day. Scratch that, I’m the one who set this shitstorm in motion. I’ll own that. And the worst part is, I’d do it all over again.
After Mel dropped me off, I wandered around for a bit, restless and not ready to go back home. I turned off my phone just to unplug for a bit, knowing a cheerful phone call from my folks might put me right over the edge. But after an hour of just walking aimlessly and turning the day’s events over and over in my head, I was ready to head back. Problem was, I had no clue where I’d ended up. I turned my phone on to get directions and saw a dozen missed calls, half of them from Coach, half from my captains, and none from Mel.
I texted Santos, sure he was going to tell me our living room floor caved in and we’d all need to find housing, but no. It wasn’t my dilapidated house falling apart; it was my actual life.
The guys came and found me and now I’m sitting in Coach’s office. I’m picking at the edge of my phone case with one hand while my foot taps nervously on the floor. All my anxious habits are back. My brain is buzzing, and I can feel the blood running through my veins.
“Yes. Yes, sir, I understand. I’ll be in touch… That’s correct.” I’m only hearing Coach’s side of the phone conversation, but it doesn’t sound great. He clears his throat, thanks the person he’s talking to, and hangs up.
“What’s the word, Coach?” Booker asks. I’ve got to hand it to these guys. Ever since the shit hit the fan today, Booker and Santos have been by my side. And they’re not the only ones. Van and Norris are waiting for us in the locker room. I may have fucked things up today, but at least I have one thing going for me—I have my team to lean on.
“I’m not gonna sugarcoat things,” Coach says. “We’ve got ourselves a situation. Dr. Chaz Ashman says you trespassed on his property and assaulted him unprovoked, Will. He claims you may have been disgruntled about a grade or maybe upset with him for personal reasons, but he’s at the medical center now getting checked out. He contacted the dean earlier with the accusations, and since there’s no video nor witnesses that we know of, the dean is launching an internal investigation.”
