Trained athlete or not, by the time I reach the sports center I have black spots swimming in my vision, and I’m panting like a dog. Sweat is trickling down my back and into my eyes despite the cold, and I wipe a hand over my wet face as I enter.
“Dylan.” Coach West looks up from a folder he’s been studying, and he frowns. “Is it raining outside? You’re soaking wet.”
“Nope. Not—” I crash into a chair, fighting to catch my breath. “Not raining.”
Dammit.
Coach West’s eyes narrow, their pale gray echoing the overcast sky outside. “You okay, kid? You don’t look too hot.”
“I’m okay.”
“Are you sick? Maybe the—”
“I’m not sick.” Impatiently, I glance at my watch. Miles has to be home by now. “You said you had some forms for me to fill out?”
“Yeah.” He swivels in his chair and digs through the folders stacked on a shelf under the window. “How’s your little brother?”
“He’s better.”
“And the other one? Mike, is it?”
“Miles. He’s okay.”
“So now you have more time for your studies. For yourself.”
“Not really.” I fight the urge to drum my fingers. “Look, Coach, I have to go. I’m late.”
He swivels back around, a bunch of papers in his hand. “Do you want to have another scholarship, Dylan? Do you want to continue your studies, or are you here because I asked you to? Let me know, so I don’t waste your time or mine. Getting you back into the program isn’t simple. I had to call in favors.”
I hunch forward and close my eyes, the pain behind my eyes spiking. “Sorry, Coach.” I press the heels of my hands into my forehead. “You know I used to live for this. For football, for the team. For a chance to make this my career.”
“I know,” he says quietly.
I fix my gaze on the far wall. “I do want this. I’ll…” I’ll what? Ditch my brothers and win the lottery? Make a wish on a falling star? “I’ll fill these out.”
“You do that, Dylan.” He taps the papers on the desk. “Your team is asking about you. What should I tell them? Are you coming back?”
I reach for the forms, and he passes them on to me. I stare at them, my mind blank. Don’t know what to reply. I really miss the team, their lame-ass jokes and ribbing. Miss playing football. Fucking miss looking forward to my future.
But ever since the moment Dad left home a year ago, I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep up. I lasted a few months, running between classes, training, work and home, until the school called to inform me they wouldn’t accept anymore the state my brothers were in—their clothes wrinkled, their homework not done.
And when one day Teo fell very sick with a fever, I cancelled everything to stay home with him, and that was the beginning of the end of it all. I dropped out of training, out of the classes. I managed to keep my job by the skin of my teeth and with a great deal of help from my neighbors.
What makes you think you can get back in the saddle now? Nothing has changed.
“We can make it work, together,” Coach West says. He rests his fist on the table, knuckles down. “I still believe in you. Just give me something to work with, some evidence of your dedication and desire to succeed. Convince me you care.”
Tessa’s image flashes in my mind again. Dammit. Seems like I have to convince everyone around me I’m not the heartless asshole I appear.
Maybe eventually I can even convince myself.
***
While waiting for the bus, I call Tessa again, to ask how she’s doing, but she doesn’t reply. I stare at my cell screen, trying not to read anything in it. Maybe she’s busy or in the shower. Maybe she’ll call me back later.
An hour later, stepping off the bus, I call once more. Still no reply.
I work my jaw, trying to release some of the tension. The chilly wind blowing down the street and right through my old jacket isn’t helping. Teeth chattering, I call Audrey’s apartment—and get Ash.
“Hey, Dylan.” He sounds cheerful enough—for Ash—and I relax a little.
“How’s everything?” I trudge down the street, and there’s a smell of burning wood on the air. “Is Tessa okay?”
“Yeah, she’s fine. She’s with Audrey and Dakota. They went shopping. She needs clothes, apparently.”
He makes it sound like a crazy thing to do—but I remember how pale and scared Tessa was after encountering Sean on her doorstep. Of course she wouldn’t want to go back to get her clothes.
“Listen…” I’m approaching home, rounding the street bend. “Tell her I’ll go with her. If she wants to go back to her apartment, get her things.”