Quitting the Quarterback (The Nash Brothers #4)

CHAPTER 50 Tanner Banks

The Coward’s Way Out

I didn’t want to cause her any more pain, so I told Bryce and Thomas that I had a conflict. They knew what to do. They don’t really even need me there. It’s my program, yes, but when I’m back on the field, I won’t be there anyway.

It’s not a lie. I do have a conflict, a major one, and it’s with one of the parents. Miller says I took the coward’s way out, but the reality is that I did it from a place of trying to protect her and her kids.

She said she wished she’d never introduced me to them, and that seems to be the thing that’s heaviest on my heart.

I want to know why she said it.

I want to know what it is about me that made her say it.

Miller said it had nothing to do with me and everything to do with her kids, that she was lashing out from a place of anger, but I don’t buy it. I guess she was right when she said that sometimes parents do things to protect their kids…but I don’t understand it .

I was starting to, I think. I was starting to feel that sense of protectiveness over all three of them. But now, I guess it’s not my place.

Thursday happens to be Thanksgiving, and practice is earlier in the day than usual so everyone can head home to be with their families.

Mom and Dad—Charles, whatever I’m supposed to call him now—arranged to visit us for the holiday, and they’ll be at the house cooking all day while I head into the practice facility with Miller. I can’t practice, but I can stand on the sidelines and analyze.

It’s partly me needing to get out of the place that reminds me so much of her, but it’s also partly me not wanting to spend the extra hours with my parents.

Though truth be told, the anger I was holding onto seems to have dissipated a little. Or maybe I’m just learning how to numb the shit I don’t want to feel. The tequila helps, though that’s really more of a late afternoon into evening activity.

Once we arrive at the practice facility, I ask Nick if I can talk to him privately. He immediately pulls me into his office.

“How’s the knee?” he asks.

“I need a new PT. Can you do it?” My tone is flat, but hell if I’m going to work with any other person at that practice than Cassie Fields.

“What happened to Motion?” he asks.

I blow out a breath. “Long story, but the woman I was working with is no longer there.”

“And you can’t see anyone else at the practice?”

I shake my head.

He gives me a strange look but doesn’t press the issue. “Okay. I’ll need to take a look at their post-op reports, and I may need you to take me through what they were having you do. Of course I can help you, but I don’t do home visits. It’ll have to be here.”

I don’t tell him that I don’t want to do this at home anyway. Everywhere I turn, I see her, and that doesn’t seem conducive to being ready to return to the game in a few months.

Getting out of the house feels like it’ll help.

“Thanks, Nick,” I say, and he nods.

I start out on the sidelines with the coaches during practice, and it feels good getting back on the field with the grass beneath my shoes. Coach Q calls me over, and together we work with Ford and Jonathan as they run drills together with the wide receivers first and the running backs second.

It’s a good way to get back into the game, anyway, and I find I like encouraging the younger players as I guide them with my own experience. It sort of reminds me how much I enjoyed working with the kids at Luca’s school, and it makes me think for the first time how maybe someday I’ll follow in my oldest half-brother’s footsteps and look toward coaching once my playing days are over.

I’m not sure whether it’s what I want, though. Part of me always figured once I decided I’m done playing, I’d just be done .

Like Grayson, who retired to run a bakery with his wife. He’s still very connected to the football world considering all his siblings are still involved in the game, but he gets the luxury of sitting out practice as he throws his time and energy into something that isn’t football.

It’s hard to imagine a life like that, but in all honesty, when I was allowed a glimpse of what life could be like when I wasn’t constantly on the go…I didn’t hate it as much as I thought I would.

I tend to think it’s because Cassie was there for it .

I push her out of my mind. Or, I try to, anyway. She never strays very far—even when I’m focused on watching Ford hand a ball off to my brother.

Nick pulls me aside after practice and runs through a few stretches with me, and he tells me he sent additional stretches to my iPad. It’s some interactive thing where I can watch on the screen and it’ll guide me through what to do.

It’s not a replacement for Cassie, but I guess it’ll have to do.

But when I get home, I can’t seem to find the motivation to do any of it. It doesn’t help that my parents are here. I need a few days, maybe. I need some time to process what happened with Cass. I need to figure out where the fuck I go from here.

Part of me wants to fight for her, but the other part of me can’t find the fight in me as her words dig into my chest and leave permanent scars there.

Maybe Miller’s right and it has nothing to do with me and everything to do with protecting her children, but I was in this thing with her. I was willing to fight to protect them, too, because they’re an extension of her.

It’s been seventy-four days since I was injured. Seventy-one of those days—not the day it happened, and not the last two days—were spent at least in part with Cassie. To just have that cut off makes me feel as if there’s something missing.

Because there is . Cassie is missing. She became a huge part of my life over the last seventy-four days. I guess I just need a minute to adjust to that.

But nobody wants to give me a minute.

Mom is stirring something by the stove, and Dad is checking the blade on the electric knife when we walk into the kitchen. It smells like heaven in here, and I know I have a lot to be thankful for, but I can’t seem to banish the negativity from my thoughts.

I’m thankful for my career…that I don’t get to participate in .

I’m thankful for my family…who lied to me my entire life.

I’m thankful for my home…that reminds me too much of Cassie.

The only person I can think of to be grateful for that doesn’t come with strings attached to it is my brother.

He’s the only person who has been there for me my entire life. The only one who doesn’t lie to me because I can see right through him. The only one who understands me like nobody else.

The only one who will call me out on my shit…just like I do for him.

But he’s got his own shit to deal with. Maybe the best thing I can do is skip town for a while.