Chapter 18
From the moment he met Alex in the hall on the suite level until they reached the restaurant and headed to their table, tucked in the back, Dawson made sure all that came up was the regular small talk.
He asked about Alex’s wife and his two daughters. Dutifully laughed at a fun little anecdote about how Marisa, his four-year-old, had somehow gotten into his wife’s makeup and had smeared it all over the brand-new cream-colored dining room carpet they’d just had custom made.
They’d briefly touched on the game, Alex making soothing noises about the miss, and reminding Dawson about how that kick had been technically out of his range. “And you almost made it, man,” he said, patting him on the back as they sat in the back of the Uber.
But finally they made it to the restaurant and settled down at their table, Dawson picking up the wine list more because it felt good to have something in his hands when Alex leaned in and earnestly said, “I’m so glad I came this weekend.”
“Are you though?”
“It was a good game. You guys lost, but it was close; anyone’s game, really. Six and one is still fucking amazing, Daws.”
“Yeah,” Dawson agreed. Didn’t mention that seven wins in a row would’ve been even better.
They both knew that, and the thing was, Alex wasn’t even really wrong about the argument he’d made.
It had been close, a hard-fought rivalry game that could’ve been anyone’s, right there at the end.
If Aidan had had ten more seconds, they could’ve done one more pass, and then Dawson would’ve made that kick.
Sent them to overtime, and then all bets were off.
“To be honest, I thought you’d be more upset about it,” Alex said, leaning back in his chair, studying Dawson’s face carefully.
“That’s because you’ve been obsessing about how last season went,” Dawson countered. Aware also of how stupid that sounded, because it wasn’t like he hadn’t been obsessing over how last season went.
“Dawson, we’ve all been, that’s why we did what we did. We were worried about you. Well, I was worried about you.”
“Yeah,” Dawson said bitterly, “Simon was just worried about his bottom line.”
“About that—it wasn’t about that for me.”
Dawson tapped the wine list. “Are we talking about it now?”
“I thought that was why I came. So we could talk about it. Hash it out.”
“Maybe I brought you to Toronto to fire you in person,” Dawson countered. He was still mad. Though the anger had mostly faded, leaving behind a deep and pervasive hurt.
Alex just shrugged. Looking more resigned than upset by that statement. “Maybe, but I don’t think so.”
The waiter arrived then. Dawson had yet to open the stupid wine list, even though he was holding it, so he asked for a recommendation, and after a quick back and forth, they took his suggestion for a cab that would pair well with steak.
“First, before anything else, I want to say I appreciate you not firing me the way you did Simon,” Alex said, sounding like he’d rehearsed that particular opening. “You could’ve.”
“Yeah, I could’ve,” Dawson agreed. But he’d known Alex a long time, and unlike Simon, Alex had never given him an uneasy feeling in the back of his mind.
“But you didn’t. You gave me a chance to explain myself. So I will. I didn’t like what Simon suggested, but, Daws, we’ve known each other a long time, and I’ve never seen you like you were last year.”
“Last year was shit,” Dawson agreed.
“No, it was, but it was worse than that. You were—I don’t think you even realized how bad you were.
Brynn told me that one day she came over to pick something up from your apartment and you were just sitting there in the dark, on the couch, staring at nothing.
We were worried about you. I wasn’t sure you’d be able to face a tryout situation. ”
Dawson couldn’t recall that exact memory, but he didn’t think it would probably help to admit he’d done it so many times they all blurred together. How often he’d hidden in his empty, awful apartment, in the dark, and wished everything and everyone would just go away.
“But then,” Alex continued, “this job fell into your lap. Marty wanted you and nobody else when the Thunder kicker retired. I was so happy and so fucking relieved. And it was like you woke up for the first time in months. You moved here and started over, but the prosecutor kept wanting to drag you right back to that place. That was the last thing you needed.”
Alex sounded genuinely torn up about it.
“It wasn’t right to keep it from me. You should’ve let me make the choice.”
“You’d have told me it was your responsibility to do what you could for the case. For all those other people who’d had their money stolen, too.”
“And I’d have been right,” Dawson countered.
“Yeah, but we were still using your name to get it done. Just not using you.”
“It was still my call,” Dawson reminded his agent in a hard voice.
Not wanting to let himself fold to the obvious distress and concern in Alex’s voice.
That wasn’t a lie. He’d been genuinely, really worried about Dawson, and looking back, seeing it described from Alex’s point of view, maybe he should’ve been.
“Yeah, it was,” Alex admitted. “And I’m so fucking sorry that I went along with it.
I didn’t realize until it was too late that Simon gave a shit for the wrong reasons.
By then, how was I supposed to fix it? I just thought if it got settled, then it would be over.
You’d move on, because you were doing so much better.
Happy, for the first time in a year, at least. I didn’t even realize how long it had been or how bad it had gotten, until I saw you today. ”
Dawson didn’t know what to say. He’d known he’d been coming out of it. Known that he’d felt so much better, these last months.
But hearing Alex say it that way? He couldn’t help but think of what Aidan had said earlier. You cannot be this dense.
Because it was Toronto and the Thunder, yes, and it was the support he’d gotten from his teammates, for sure, and the success he’d had here to start the season, but it was more than that too.
It was rediscovering his friendship with Aidan.
Getting to know some of the other guys like Lane and Trevor and Nate.
Being forced to befriend Mo against his will, but discovering he really liked the guy. Finally having Marty as a coach.
But it was more than even that.
It was Cam.
The rookie had wormed his way in and spread his sunshine around, lighting up all his shadows.
Dawson sighed. “I get it. You were only trying to do the best thing for me. He wasn’t.” He didn’t say Simon’s name. “But you were.”
“I wish I’d seen through it earlier. But yeah, he was definitely a clout-chaser. Only gave a shit about you because you brought in more business. Didn’t want you to fall apart because he worried about what it would mean for him.”
It was easier than Dawson had expected to reply back and mean it. “But you were only worried about me.”
Alex looked incredibly relieved. “Oh God, yeah. I was. I hoped you’d see that. I . . .I know I fucked up—”
“You can’t do that shit again. Not ever again,” Dawson stressed.
“I won’t. I wouldn’t. I know it was a mistake,” Alex agreed.
Dawson had a feeling he would struggle for some time with who to trust and who not to trust—after Ackerman and then Simon, that wasn’t much of a surprise—but he’d always trusted Alex.
It wasn’t so much building that trust back from scratch but polishing the scratches and pounding the dents out of what already existed between them.
The waiter arrived then, with their wine, and after pouring their drinks and taking orders for an appetizer he also recommended, disappeared again.
“To new beginnings,” Alex said, lifting his wineglass.
Dawson picked up his own and tapped it against the lip of Alex’s. “New beginnings,” he echoed.
“So, what’s happening with the case, now?” Alex asked after they’d discussed what they were going to order.
“I told the prosecutor that I’d be happy to do whatever she needed,” Dawson admitted. “It did freak me out, and then today happened—”
Alex shot him a knowing look and interrupted, bluntly, “You can’t think that has anything to do with this.”
“Last year—”
But Alex didn’t let him say it. “No,” he said, as confidently as both Aidan and Cam had been.
“That was a whole different thing. That was running out of time—and yeah, could Flynn have thrown a Hail Mary, sure? He could’ve.
But it was chancy, either way. Either throwing to the end zone for the win or having you go out there, at the edge of your range, and try to take it to overtime.
Neither was really a good choice, but they took the better chance.
And you being a stronger chance than Flynn throwing a Hail Mary? I’d think about that.”
Dawson did. Sat with it for a second. “I can see it,” he agreed. “Still . . .I still get worried about it all going down the tubes, again.”
“I think anyone would be,” Alex empathized.
“I’m going out of my way to make sure that it won’t,” Dawson added.
“Yeah, you are,” Alex said, leaning forward. “You’ve been money since you got here. This changes nothing.”
“Okay,” Dawson said, and to his surprise, he believed that was true now more than he had five minutes ago.
They ordered, enjoying the appetizer that arrived at the table. It was hard not to, since it was hot cheese, baked and laced with hot honey and thyme.
“So what else is new?” Alex said, after he finished going over some promotional opportunities. All of that probably could’ve been an email, but it was good—unexpectedly good, actually—to sit here with him and talk about them in person.
And of course, Dawson had needed to see his face when he told his side of the story. They’d never have been able to build that trust back if he hadn’t.
“Well,” Dawson said, hesitating. “I guess I’m . . .made a new friend?” He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck.