Quitting the Quarterback (The Nash Brothers #4)

CHAPTER 24 Tanner Banks

Fate Isn’t Something I’ve Ever Believed in

“You want to sleep with her?” I demand from my brother the second he walks through the door.

“With who?” he asks, and he’s clearly confused.

“Cassie. My physical therapist.”

“Would it be a problem if I did?” Miller asks, and I shoot him one of those if looks could kill glares. “Come on, man. No. We’re just teaming up to help you . I’m not going to be a distraction in that. Why, does she want to sleep with me? Oh! Or do you want to sleep with her ?”

I can’t tell him that I already have, and I certainly can’t tell him I want to do it again. He’d never let me work with her if he knew the truth.

“Fuck you,” I spit at him, and he rolls his eyes.

“Good one. Look, man, I texted her to check on you, and she responded with a photo telling me you were eating your lunch. Is she hot? Yeah, sure. Absolutely. Would I go near her with a ten-foot pole? Not a chance.”

I clench my jaw as he admits he finds her attractive. I don’t want him looking at her. I don’t want any man looking at her except for me, and I don’t quite understand the level of possessiveness I feel over someone I have no claim to.

It was one night, but now having her here in my home, caring for me, eating lunch with me…it’s making me see a different side to her.

She’s not just this hot woman who’s an animal in bed. She’s also caring and nurturing, kind and smart. I’m getting to know her beyond the one night we had together, and it feels like she’s here not just for my recovery, but for me .

I realize she’s getting paid to be here.

My feelings are likely misplaced. I’m falling for her because she’s assisting in my recovery.

Except…it’s not quite so simple as that. I think I started falling for her the night we met, and now that she’s been put directly in my path, it feels like it’s because of fate.

And fate isn’t something I’ve ever believed in.

It only took two days’ worth of home visits for me to feel this way. I’m not sure what the next eight or nine months will bring. For now, I don’t plan to act on it. If anything, I’m only grumpier because of it. I’m dealing with a heavy load of grief as I look at a season where I won’t get to play. The reality of that hits me square in the chest every time Miller leaves for practice and I’m left behind.

It’s excruciating.

I want to go to the game Sunday, to stand on the sidelines and offer support and encouragement to my teammates, but I also don’t want to be there at all. I don’t want to see Ford Turner run out onto the field in my place. I don’t want to watch as he makes plays I’d never dream of making because he’s young and doesn’t have the same years under his belt to develop his skillset .

But even though I want to go, I need clearance to go. I need Cassie to say it’s fine for me to stand for three to four hours, and I already know that’s going to be a no.

It’s probably for the best. I’ll watch from home, where I can sulk and be miserable rather than putting on the act on the sidelines. I need a little more time to allow myself to mourn the loss of this season.

Miller collapses next to me on the couch. “Are you okay, bro?”

I shake my head. “No. I’m not.”

“Talk to me.”

“This fucking sucks,” I say.

“You’re here to bitch about it. That’s something positive, isn’t it?”

I roll my eyes. It’s something our dad—or our stepdad , I guess—would say to us all the time.

You know, back when we cared about his opinion.

“Have you talked to Mom?” he asks.

I shake my head. “You?”

He nods. “I called her on the way to practice the other day.”

I clench my jaw, and it works back and forth. I don’t ask him for more, but he says it anyway.

“You should call her, T. Holding onto anger is only going to impede your recovery.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

He means well. He’s trying to help. But I don’t really see how talking to her is going to help with anything except adding to my anger.

He clears his throat. “You need a hobby. A focus.”

“My hobby is football. My offseason hobbies are running or golf. I can’t do any of those things.” I’m stating the obvious. He knows these things .

“I know. What about travel? Starting a business? Or a charity? You could do some good while you’re sidelined,” he suggests.

I shrug. “I’ll think about it.” The truth is that he’s probably right. I have physical therapy, rest, and recovery. I’ll have surgery, and I need to stay focused mentally as I work toward a full recovery. I can still be involved in other team activities, and I can study film and strategies while I’m away from the field.

But immersing myself in a game I can’t even play right now feels unhealthy, and I know there’s more to life than football. Maybe I should use my time away to explore some of that.

I just have no idea what I want to explore. It’s always been football. I don’t even know who Tanner Banks is without football.

But maybe it’s time to get to know him.

“Are you watching tonight?” my brother asks as he nods toward the television.

“Don’t know yet.”

We’re both quiet a few seconds, and then Miller sighs heavily. “What can I do?”

My brows dip together. “About what?”

“I feel antsy, and I know it’s because you are. I need you to pull your shit together so I don’t go out there and bust a knee.”

“I just got hurt less than a week ago. Give me some space to grieve, man,” I mutter.

“You can have that space, but I know you. I know you better than anybody in the world, and this isn’t you. Sitting around feeling sorry for yourself…that’s never been you. Grieve all you want, but you have to face reality at some point, and being a dick to everyone around you is only going to push people away.”

I glance over at him in surprise. Miller has always been the quiet one—except when it comes to me. He’s always told it to me straight, so I shouldn’t be surprised that this isn’t any different.

Maybe I just wanted a little sympathy, but Miller’s too logical to offer it. You don’t go to Miller for sympathy. You go to him for solutions.

Even when they’re solutions you didn’t ask for.

Is he right?

Am I being a dick to everyone around me? Am I pushing people away?

And if I am…how do I stop?

He heads upstairs for a while, and I realize that one potential answer to that is to call my mother.

“Tanner! How are you?” she answers.

She has tried to get in touch every day since my injury, and I’ve been ignoring her calls and texts.

A lump forms in the back of my throat as I try to figure out exactly how to answer that question. I’m not sure I’ve ever been worse. This feels like rock bottom. It’s not, and the logical side of me knows that. But having to sit out an entire year feels a little bit like the end of the world.

“Oh, honey,” she says softly, and even though I’m holding onto a lot of anger, hearing her voice causes something inside of me to give way. If Miller knows me best out of everyone in the world, my mom isn’t terribly far behind him. “I can’t imagine how hard this is for you.”

I clear my throat, though it does nothing to make that lump go away. “It’s been a hard few days…a hard few months.”

“I know. I’m so, so sorry. I just want to be there for you, and I know you’re angry with me.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I say. I stare at the television that’s muted as players run onto the field ahead of kickoff. I always watch Thursday Night Football with my brother, and he’s upstairs giving me space and time. I’m not sure if I want to be alone or if I want to be surrounded by people. Both sound appealing, and both sound awful.

“Whenever you’re ready, Tan. You know I’m right here. Always right here for my boys. No matter what.”

“I know, Mom.” No matter what.

If Charles Banks always said at least you’re here to bitch about it , Mom always said, no matter what . It’s their catchphrases.

I try to let go of a little bit of the anger I feel about the lies. They sacrificed a lot for us. I’m sure it was hard for a single mother to have to raise a set of very active twin boys. She did the best she knew how.

And now I can’t stop thinking about a different single mother. It’s a completely different situation given the fact that her ex-husband is still around and still a part of her kids’ lives. But we had a father, too. Maybe I need to spend less time feeling anger and resentment toward them since they gave us the life we have now.

Still, just hearing my mother’s voice tonight seems to have sparked something new in me. I’m just not sure what it is yet.