34. Nolan
Nolan
T he last place I want to be is at the facility, but I show up as I have every damn day for the past two and half years with the exception of yesterday.
Hudson’s the only one here because of the early hour. “You still look pretty rough.”
“I still feel like shit.” Only it has little to do with the hangover that knocked me on my ass.
“How’d things go with Hadley?”
“About as well as you could expect after I drank enough to kill a smaller person and proceeded to be an absent asshole.”
“I like Lenny. He’s a hell of a tight end, and a good guy, but he has absolutely no sense or understanding when it comes to moderation. Why in the hell did you go out with him?”
“Because he didn’t care.”
Hudson stares at me, brow lowered with confusion.
“Lenny doesn’t give a shit. He’s competitive and works hard, but he knows he won’t play after college.
This loss hurt, but it was a bruise to him.
He didn’t care that Peters threw our future out the window and watched it get hit by a fucking train.
And I needed to just numb that feeling and let it be a bruise for a while because I’d begun hoping I could actually do this, that I might be able to play beyond college and make this into something bigger than something I did to get into college. ”
“Of course, you can fucking do this,” Hudson snaps. “You’ve been doing it. Why in the hell do you think I ask for your opinion on everything? Drag you into these meetings with Krueger? You have all the fucking potential; you just resist it.”
“I guess Peters took care of that for me.”
“Fuck that. If Hadley tells you she can’t forgive you, are you going to accept that?” Hudson shakes his head. “Hell no. Just like you told me to get my ass to fucking New Mexico when Evelyn left. We don’t give up and we sure as hell don’t quit.”
Maybe another day, his words would excite me, but today, I’m too damn exhausted. “It won’t change anything.”
“You’re just going to accept this?”
“What do you want me to do?”
“You’re going to quit on Grey, Corey, Palmer, and me? I had no idea you were that guy.”
“What choice do I have?”
“You don’t take this shit lying down. You get up. You hit back.”
“How are we going to hit Peters? This whole university is wrapped around his fingers. No one’s blaming him for our loss. Sure, they might be questioning his decision, but they still trust him.”
“Who else besides us won’t be happy about the loss?”
I shake my head, fearing the hope he’s breathing into my thoughts as I allow the conversation to continue. “Who?”
“The boosters. Duken gives this school millions every year and we have our bi-weekly lunch today.”
“You go to lunch with him every other week?”
He nods. “And I want you to come with me. Palmer, too. If we can get his ear, I’m hoping he can lean on the athletic director, force him to let Krueger do his goddamn job, and get Peters doing what a head coach is supposed to.”
I stare at Hudson, imagining this working out. He’s right. Duken is influential and has connections, but with Peters’s record, I’m not sure anyone will be able to get an inch of change, much less the several yards this will require. “I guess we have to at least try.”
Hudson nods, slapping a hand on my shoulder. “Fuck Peters.”
Fuck Peters and fuck me because as I stand here, I realize I did exactly what Peters intended.
He got past my defenses and into my head making me feel like I was less deserving and capable than I am, and with those fears exposed, they triggered additional fears—so many I took the easy route that led me to make an entire night of mistakes in an attempt to numb those fears.
And it’s not him paying the price, it’s me, my future, and my relationship with Hadley.
“Tell me when and where, and I’ll be there,” I tell him.
Hudson nods.
I’d like another hour to discuss what we’re going to say to Duken to plead our case, but others begin showing up, forcing our conversation to cease.
Practice is an ass whipping we take without complaint.
Much to my surprise, even with lingering dehydration, it invigorates me.
Every time Peters yells, I imagine him being forced to let us play.
Every time he makes us sprint another line, I imagine him being forced to allow Krueger to call the plays.
I pray at the very least, he’ll be forced to let Hudson and Palmer play, even if they have to play his goddamn game.
On my way to class, I send Hadley a text.
Me: Would you consider going on a date with me? I’d like to see you and talk.
Hadley: Probably.
I chuckle, despite my wounded ego, knowing she’s likely smiling as she awaits my reply.
Me: I’d like to take you to dinner.
Hadley: Is it going to involve breaking into someone’s house?
Me: There’s always that chance…
Hadley: I’m available Thursday.
Two days seems like an eternity.
Me: Pencil me in, Cutlass.
I sit through a two-hour lecture with Hadley’s words playing in my head like piano keys.
I try to imagine what Saturday might have been like if I’d gone home and allowed her to see the hurt and fear I was drowning in that made Lenny’s invitation seem like the safest bet.
I consider what might happen if I enter the draft this year or maybe next year and don’t get picked, what will happen if I stay and she graduates and returns to Vegas.
What happens if I do get drafted and leave.
Memories of my fights freshman year with my ex rise to the forefront of my thoughts: how I never had enough time, couldn’t leave for Thanksgiving or even Christmas, and how she always perceived it as me being selfish because it was my goal—my dream–not hers.
When the class ends and the professor comments about being prepared, I know I’ll have to check the online notes because I didn’t hear a damn word he said—but I hear Hadley’s, loud and clear, knowing that if she had reacted the same way I had, I’d feel equally hurt.
I want to drive to the house and talk to her, tell her these revelations while they’re fresh in my thoughts, but my meeting with Hudson, Palmer, and Duken is in twenty minutes at a restaurant across town.
I send Hadley another text as I get to my truck.
Me: Did you know there’s a museum in Pittsburgh with some automatons?
Hadley: I did not.
Me: We should go this spring. What got you interested in them?
Hadley: My grandma used to collect cuckoo clocks. She let me play with the broken ones.
Me: I bet you were the coolest kid.
Hadley: I was painfully shy and a bookworm. We wouldn’t have been friends.
Me: Oh, Cutlass. I can assure you, you’re wrong.
Hadley: You’re very chatty today.
Me: I miss you.
Hadley: I’m going to lunch with Katie so I’m going to be busy for a while.
Me: If you need me to fake an emergency, just let me know.
Hadley: She just read that over my shoulder.
Me: You’re lying. You never pull out your phone when you’re with others unless it’s Lanie messaging you.
Hadley: You’re wrong. I read all your messages the moment they come in, even in class.
I hope I’m not misinterpreting her words that breathe even more hope into me.
Me: Good luck with lunch, Cutlass.
I arrive at the restaurant with five minutes to spare. I spend three of them ordering flowers to be delivered to Hadley, and another one hoping that Katie doesn’t say or do anything to meddle in my efforts of winning her back.
I straighten my polo, and head into the steakhouse, thinking about all the notes and tips I shared with Hadley as I prepare for what feels like my first-time public speaking as I eye Duken across from Hudson and Palmer.
“Nolan,” Duken says, standing as I get closer. “How are you, son?” He offers me his hand to shake.
“Thanks for allowing us to join you,” I say, taking his hand.
He smiles like a proud father. “You’re welcome anytime.
Have a seat.” He gestures to the chair beside him.
“I’m hoping you three will tell me what in high heaven went wrong this past weekend that kept you from playing.
” His Southern accent is as deep as his pockets.
He slides his napkin from the table’s edge and snaps it open before draping it across his lap.
“Did you get food poisoning? Injured during practice? What in the hell happened?”
I exchange a look with Hudson and nod, encouraging him to explain it, no holds barred.
“We ran a play Peters didn’t call,” Hudson says.
“That trick play we ran that had Zack throwing the winning touchdown pass to Nolan was a play we’d drawn with Coach Krueger.
We knew it was our only chance of winning the game, so we chose to run it.
Peters benched us to set an example that if the team doesn’t listen to him, they don’t play. ”
Duken shakes his head.“Well, now. It can’t be that simple.”
Palmer smirks and gives a near imperceptible shake of his head. I know he thinks this is a waste of time. Everyone kisses Peters’s ass regardless of how big of an asshole he is because the details never matter as long as the bottom line says we’re winning.
“With Peters, it’s that simple,” I say. “Krueger is organizing files and tracking players down over their attendance and grades, he’s not running the offense.
And Hudson doesn’t get a voice on the field.
Our direction comes from Peters and if we don’t do what he says or question him, we pay for it either in practice or by getting benched. ”
Duken turns from me to Hudson. “Could it all be a misunderstanding?”
“We were there and ready to play Saturday when he told us that if we couldn’t listen to his plays, he’d find someone else who would. So you tell us,” Palmer says. “Is it just a misunderstanding?”
Duken leans back in his chair and puffs out his cheeks. “This wasn’t the meeting I was expecting.”
Hudson nods. “We didn’t mean to ambush you; we just know how much the program means to you.
” He stares at Duken without flinching. “We aren’t trying to pass our mess over to you, but we want you to know because we got knocked out of the playoff game Saturday and it’s not just our futures he gambled and lost.”
Palmer looks from Duken to me, one brow raised with a silent question about whether or not I think Duken will help us.
“Krueger’s smart. I helped him get his position with the team.” Duken reaches into his pocket. “Let me call Carrie. She’ll want to hear about this.”
Carrie is more than another influential booster—she’s the sister of our athletic director’s wife and possibly our golden ticket.