Chapter 11 #2
We load up, and as the car pulls away, Maddie turns to face me, eyes bright. “Did it feel good to play again for real?”
My heart clenches. “Yeah, it did.”
It wasn’t the same, but it did feel good.
Sabrina watches me, but I avoid looking her way. With my luck, she’s already seen the interview. Maddie, thankfully, hasn’t said a word about it.
By the time we make it back to the hotel, I’ve gotten a handful of calls and twice as many texts. Mostly from Fisher. I ignore them all. He’ll probably show up at my door, but maybe by then I’ll be in a better state of mind.
After I’ve helped Maddie out of the car, I stuff my free hand in my pocket and rock back on my heels. “I’m going to grab a coffee. Do you guys want anything?”
Sabrina watches me with a far too knowing expression. Fuck, it unnerves me to know she can read me so easily.
“Coffee would be good, thanks. Come on.” She takes Maddie’s hand. “Your dad needs a minute.”
My daughter looks back at me, brows creased in confusion.
It’s hard, navigating the grief of losing a spouse while doing the best I can for my child, who lost her mother. Sometimes I think Maddie has coped better than I have.
I watch the two of them through the floor-to-ceiling windows, and only after they step into the elevator do I stride down the sidewalk.
I’d love nothing more than to get drunk, but I know better than to anger my coaching team like that.
While I wait for our coffees, I sit at a table in the corner.
I’m entitled to my reaction—it’s okay to be hurt by the casual way my wife’s death was brought up—but this is my job.
I can’t fuck it up. Regardless of the anger or hurt inadvertently caused, I have to put on a brave face and get through it.
I can be upset about it when cameras aren’t capturing every minute flicker of emotion on my face.
When my order is ready, I stride back to the hotel, head down. All sorts of people from the tournament are staying in the same place, and I’d like to make it back to my room without running into anyone.
Luckily, I have the whole elevator to myself. Leaning against the stainless-steel wall, I focus on breathing steadily, wondering whether Annie would be embarrassed by my reaction or if she’d understand.
Even a year later, my feelings are still raw. It doesn’t matter that we had months to “prepare.” It’s impossible to ever really be prepared to lose a loved one. Even when the doctors said there was no hope, my brain refused to believe it. There had to be something we could do to change her fate.
Annie was far more resolved.
When the doors slide open, I choke back the emotion threatening to bubble over and head down the hall.
Inside, I don’t hear or see Maddie, but Sabrina is settled on the couch, legs curled under her. Her hair is pulled back with some sort of bandanna thing, and she’s changed into a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt. I hold the coffee out to her without a word.
She takes it, the bright pink color of her nails snagging my attention.
Maddie went on and on about how Sabrina let her paint her nails. I’m pretty sure when I fell asleep, she was still talking about it.
“Where’s Maddie?”
“Shower.” She takes a sip of the coffee. “How are you?”
I huff, dismissive. “Fine.”
With a roll of her eyes, she sets her coffee on the table. “Don’t be stupid. I meant after the interview.”
“Fine,” I answer again.
“You know, it wouldn’t kill you to actually talk.” She ducks her head, averting her eyes in a shy way that is not at all in character for her. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
It’s like I can’t help but be an asshole to her. Every day, the attraction I feel toward this woman only pisses me off more. I’ve only ever been with my wife, and I’ve only ever had eyes for her. Until now. The way I feel about Sabrina has completely thrown me for a loop.
“I’m okay.”
She lowers her chin and shoots me a glare, clearly unimpressed with my elaboration.
“I should’ve expected them to bring it up, but it caught me off guard.”
“I’m sorry they did that to you. He should’ve been more sensitive to your loss.”
The sincerity in her eyes and tone of voice are like a single stitch keeping the two halves of my heart from separating completely.
Throat thick with emotion, I choke out a “thanks.”
It seems as though, according to the world, men shouldn’t grieve.
At least not for long. I’m the head of my household, so I’m supposed to put on a brave face and not let my emotions get the best of me.
But grief drains the life out of those who suffer from it.
At times, it felt like I was dying right alongside Annie.
Now that she’s gone, I’m a different person, and I haven’t figured out how to function in this world as this new version of myself.
Now that I’ve returned to such a public space, it doesn’t feel as though I’m allowed to be sad.
It doesn’t feel as though I can deny the media’s desire to talk about my wife.
I’m still grieving, and I don’t want to have to put on a facade so the world can feel more comfortable.
I don’t want to pretend to be okay when I’m not.
Especially when I’m in such a complicated spot, torn between grief and this new unexpected attraction to Sabrina.
“I can’t pretend to know how you feel, but if you want to talk to someone who doesn’t know a lot about you or your life, then I’m here.”
I rub my jaw, the stubble rasping against my fingers. “I appreciate it.” I have no intention of taking her up on it, but her offer is commendable, since I haven’t exactly been the kindest to her.
“You’re welcome.” She stands, and a moment later, the door to her room clicks shut.
I lean back on the couch, stretching my legs out wide.
Before I can get too comfortable, a pounding on the door echoes through the room.
“Here to chew me out?” I ask when I let my best friend in.
“No.” He glowers, hands on his hips. “I’m here to ask if you’re okay, you fucking asshole.”
With a shrug, I step aside to let him in. “As okay as I can be.” I drop back onto the couch. “Should I order drinks?”
Fisher joins me, sitting in the spot Sabrina just vacated. “Only if you want one for yourself. I’m fine.”
I pick up my coffee. “This is enough for me.” Silence settles between us for a long moment. “There’s nothing wrong with what Shawn said, but it just…” I clench my jaw and zero in on the paper cup in my hands. “I guess I wasn’t prepared for it.”
The few tournaments I played at the end of last year were smaller and had minimal press coverage, not to mention Annie hadn’t been gone long, so I avoided any possibility of an interview.
“Understandable.” Fisher cocks his head and zeroes in on my shirt. “Nice sticker.”
Smiling, I pat it, confirming it’s still sticking well. “Maddie gave it to me. For winning.”
“She’s a good kid.”
“The best,” I agree.
“I told the network not to bring up Annie to you unless you mention her first.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat and nod. “Thanks.”
“You’ve got a lot of support out there, you know,” he goes on. “You don’t have to run away.”
“I know.”
“No. You don’t get it.” He smacks my knee and hauls himself to his feet. “One of these days you’ll figure out how many people truly care about you.”
As he lets himself out, I stay where I am, replaying his words, trying to figure out what he means.