“Brady Rigsby.”
Mackenzie gasps. “You datedBrady Rigsby? Brady Rigsby, as in the guy who peed in our garden?”
“Okay, that was one time, and he was four.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”
“It wouldn’t have been a secret if I had. Anyway, since I’d been obsessed with Brady before the breakup, I knew his schedule well. So after we broke up, in order to avoid the awkwardness, I timed my comings and goings so precisely that for six weeks, I didn’t so much as catch a glimpse of him. It was like emotional air traffic control. I could land a plane with those avoidance skills.
“And then after that, I just mastered the ‘neighborly nod.’ Not too friendly, not too cold. Just a perfectly neutral chin lift. It’s the international signal for ‘I no longer emotionally spiral when I see you.’
“Here’s the thing that took me way too long to figure out: awkwardness doesn’t last. Regret does. If you’re scared it won’t work, that’s okay. But don’t let that stop you from finding out if it could.”
“That’s a very good point.”
“So you’re going to go for it?” Mackenzie asks, with way too much hopefulnessin her voice.
I nod. “Well, I kind of already committed to that, so yes. That’s the other thing I wanted to tell you—I asked him last night if he’ll be my plus-one at your wedding.”
I’m suddenly surrounded by hugs and very excited women. Mackenzie is grinning at me. “I bet you’re really not going to regret it.”
I’d like to think that she’s right.
CHAPTER 14
PRACTICE, PAIN, AND PERSPECTIVE
OWEN
I’ve only got half of my crew working today because of the hold-up in getting the insulation we need, which has put a stop to so many tasks. My guys don’t like to be off when they should be working, and no building supplier is showing any in stock on their websites.
In a last-ditch effort to get my crew back on the job, I started calling suppliers, and I found one that has as much as we need, about a forty-minute drive from here. I paid for it over the phone right then, told the rest of my crew I would be gone for the afternoon, and jumped into my truck to go and pick it up.
I like the feeling of having everything I need lined up. To see all the building supplies we’ll need over the next couple of weeks, just waiting for us. But thefeeling is even sweeter as we load all the insulation into my truck and trailer and get it tied down, just knowing that it means my guys can be back to work tomorrow.
I’m in a city near Baltimore that I’ve never been to before. As I’m making my way back through a residential part of town with my window down, the unmistakable sounds of football practice happening nearby carries on the wind. I slow down to figure out where it’s coming from.
I turn down a street leading to a high school and pull off to the side in the parking lot right next to the football field. I was just going to watch for a moment from my truck, but I decide to get out and walk around to the bleachers. Since it’s just a practice, there are only a handful of people watching, scattered throughout the space. I take a seat near the side.
I have missed this! The sharp blast of the whistle, the thud of cleats pounding against turf, shoulder pads clacking as they hit, the dull impact as the offensive linemen hit into the padded blocking sleds, plays being called out, coaches barking instructions, all of it.
The team is split into groups, and I take them all in. The running backs are doing the gauntlet drill, trying to keep their ball from being knocked away. Quarterbacks are on the far end, dropping back and passing to receivers who are also practicing their routes, defensive backs are running break-and-reactdrills, and a couple of punters are practicing kicking point after attempts.
It’s when a quarterback throws a tight spiral that arcs perfectly through the air, landing in the hands of a wide receiver who lets out a triumphant whoop that the nostalgia really hits deep. Man, I loved being the quarterback. The scent of the grass and sweat, the adrenaline rush as we went out onto the field, the camaraderie. The way Friday night lights used to make everything feel possible.
I find myself mindlessly rubbing my knee. It’s funny how just watching football makes it hurt, even when it wasn’t a football injury that gave me the lasting pain. But the knee injury was what changed everything with football, so they’re still closely tied in my mind. Especially because it was a fellow teammate who caused the accident. The familiar sting of anger toward the guy who did it surfaces, and I work to push it out of my mind.
I keep watching as the coach calls everyone in to run a scrimmage, but watching them has gone from giving me happy nostalgia and a longing for those days to a sharp reminder that everything is fleeting. Those things in life that you love are only there long enough to make you think they could be a part of your life before going away. It doesn’t seem to matter how much you wanted it to stay or how tightly you were holding on. Infact, those things just make it hurt worse when it does go away.
I stand, my knee protesting extra for a bit as I walk down the stairs at the side of the bleachers and head back toward my truck.
I can’t help but wonder if things might be the same with Charlie. If I’m just going to want her in my life more and more until the day when she’s not. And will it hurt as badly as having football taken away did?
I get into my truck and see the sticky note that Charlie left on my side of the wall this morning.Thanks for rescuing me from the dark last night. 10/10 would let you break through the painter’s tape again. I brought it out to my truck when I left home this morning because it makes me smile, and I wanted the feeling of her being with me today.
Experience has taught me that I shouldn’t get more invested in a relationship with Charlie. But I’m just so drawn to her. I really like her—it’s hard not to. And I love spending time with her.
I am hopeless.
