Chapter 39 #3
Seb licks his lips, then clears his throat. “Roman is—” he starts, only to break off and let silence take over. Whatever he was about to say, Wagner seems to understand.
“Yeah, I know. But I should’ve understood that you’re your own person, not just a younger version of him. And I shouldn’t have let my experience with him influence my work with you. That was extremely unprofessional and unfair, and I’m sorry that happened.”
My shoulders sag a little at that, and I sink back against my chair, my leg still pressed against Seb’s. Felix lets out a deep breath at the same time. For a second, our eyes meet behind Seb’s back.
“I still wish you had come to me with this earlier, but I also understand why you didn’t,” Wagner goes on, a hint of guilt in his otherwise smooth voice.
“My job isn’t just to train you. I should’ve created an environment where you, all of you, felt safe coming to me with your problems, and I failed at that, too. ”
“That’s not just on you, Mo,” Novák interjects gently. It’s the first time he’s said anything since we entered Wagner’s office. He’s sitting forward in his chair now, his hands wrapped around a chipped coffee mug that reads ‘Best Dad in the world’.
Wagner doesn’t say anything, only nods before reaching for a stack of business cards on his desk.
They’re aligned with military precision, like everything in this office.
“We have qualified people on staff—Dr. Ellis, Dave Johnson, Andrea Kremers. But I understand if you don’t feel comfortable talking to someone from the school.
So I’d like to give you the number of my therapist.”
This information, given away so casually as Wagner holds out one of the cards to Seb, lets all our heads snap up at the same time. The right corner of Wagner’s mouth twitches. It’s not a real smile, but close enough.
“It’s not a condition to stay on the roster.
But you deserve help. Actual help from qualified people who know what they’re doing.
You have great friends in your corner, and you also have us now,” he says, gesturing between Novák and him.
“But…just consider it, okay? This is a tough sport, and it’s even tougher with that name on your jersey. ”
Seb doesn’t say anything for so long that I almost think he won’t respond at all. But then he reaches out and takes the card.
I let out an involuntary hiss when his fingers close around it.
My first thoughts include calculating how much an hour with Wagner’s therapist would cost and that insurance probably won’t cover enough.
But then I remember that Seb could make more with one Instagram post than that therapist might earn in a month.
Money won’t be the problem here.
“And my door,” Novák speaks up, directly looking at Seb once he has put the card away, “is always open. Any time, any reason. You don’t have to make an appointment or come prepared with a speech. Just knock and walk in.”
Seb looks at him, then nods. “Thank you,” he says, the sound nothing more than an exhausted exhale.
“One more thing before I let you go,” Wagner says, his eyes wandering over all three of us. Seb first, then Felix, then me. “I want to say something, and I want you to actually hear it and take it with you, not just wait for me to finish talking.”
Felix raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. I nod, the back of my neck tingling. Somehow, it seems like he saved that part for me, even when addressing all of us.
“Today, football might feel like the most important thing in your world. I know that because I’ve once been where you are now.
” His voice has shifted to a more cautious tone, like he’s measuring the weight of every word before releasing it.
“That’s not true. Don’t let your performance on the field, the draft, the talk, the media define who you are.
You’re more than just a quarterback, a tight end, or a wide receiver.
You’re young men who deserve a future with your health intact, meaningful relationships in your lives, and whatever else makes you happy.
Okay? Not everything out there is worth the cost.”
Suddenly, my throat feels tight. I grab the edge of my chair when a wave of dizziness hits me.
“Okay,” Felix and Seb echo next to me, the sound of scraping chairs and shuffling legs filling the room as they get up, Novák already talking about flexible hours for Seb.
“Mahoney?” Wagner asks when I don’t move, still rooted to my chair.
I can hear the frown in it, even when my eyes stay fixed on the dark linoleum.
I think about my bank account, about my father’s text messages behind my cracked cell phone screen, and about my mother in Thailand, and for the first time, I ask myself if all of it is really worth it.
“Micah?” Wagner says again, and I clear my throat when I finally look up at him. My voice shakes when I try to speak, and I need three tries before I get the words out.
“Dr. Ellis,” I say. “Is…I mean…will everything someone would talk to him about be…confidential?”
Wagner holds my gaze for a moment, gray eyes softening before he nods. “Yes, Micah. Of course. Do you want me to set up an appointment?”