Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Foster
I’m nervous. I know I shouldn’t be, but I can’t seem to control it. The feeling sits heavily in my gut, like a weight I can’t shake loose, no matter how many times I pace the length of the living room. Back and forth. Couch to window. Window to door. The feeling never fades.
It’s just a phone call. That’s what I keep telling myself.
A few words, a few minutes, and then it’s done.
But the truth is, it’s not just a call. It’s an admission.
A reckoning. It’s me finally saying out loud what I’ve been avoiding for far too long, and once I do, there’s no pretending anymore.
Not that I want to continue to pretend, but I’m putting myself out there.
Again.
Eden has turned my world upside down, and I love her for it, but old insecurities die hard, hence the pacing. This call is long overdue. Lifting my phone, I stare at the screen, but I chicken out and start pacing once again.
Eden left a little while ago to visit Carrie.
She hovered in the doorway before she went, keys in hand, eyes searching my face like she already knew I was coming apart at the seams. She offered to stay, to reschedule, to sit beside me while I made the call, to be here for moral support.
She offered like it was nothing. Like I wouldn’t be leaning on her just to get through it.
I told her to go.
Not because I didn’t want her here. I always want her right next to me, but because this is something I have to do on my own.
Me. No buffers. No shields. No one else to carry the weight of it with me.
I watched her walk out, listened to the door click shut behind her, and felt the silence immediately.
That silence is louder than I expected.
I stop pacing once again and stand in the middle of the room, phone clenched in my hand, knuckles tight, blood hammering in my veins.
I can feel my heart beating in my ears, can feel an old instinct rising, the one that tells me to put it off just a little longer, to find a reason, any reason, not to dial the number.
Anything to ward off the fear of rejection.
I know they won’t reject me. Over the years, they’ve been there for me, but I’ve been too blinded by my past to accept them for the roles they play in my life.
They’re my parents.
Coach Pruitt and Hope are the closest I’ve ever come, and still to this day, they support me. They call to check on me, come to see me play, and my dumb ass has taken that for granted. Guilt washes over me.
Not anymore. Not after today. Not after I make this phone call.
I know deep down that they’re going to be thrilled to hear from me, but there is a little boy deep inside me who still fears rejection.
I have to silence that little boy and be the man that I am. The man they helped me become.
Eden is the reason I’m here. She’s the reason I’ve come to realize my mistakes with the Pruitts, but it’s me. I’m the one who decided it was time to fix that mistake. Now, if only I could make the call.
Eden never pushed. She didn’t demand. She just saw me. Really saw me, and somehow made me see myself, too. All the things I’ve buried. All the messy parts of life I’ve pretended would tie themselves up if I ignored them long enough.
They won’t.
That’s my job.
I draw in a slow breath, then another, trying to steady my hands. This is what manning up looks like, I guess. Not being fearless, but feeling every ounce of fear and potential rejection, but doing the thing anyway. Facing the discomfort. Owning the mess.
My thumb hovers over the Call button.
Fifteen minutes of pacing. Years of avoidance.
I close my eyes.
And finally, I press it.
One ring. Two rings, then his voice. “Foster, my boy, how are you?” Coach Pruitt answers.
I clear my throat. “Good, sir,” I answer.
“Nathan.” He chuckles. “How many times do I have to tell you that you can call me Nathan, or Coach, I guess, but sir makes me feel old.”
I smile, even though he can’t see me, because he’s told me this very thing for years, and I still insisted on calling him sir. I was too blind to see, or maybe just too fearful to take his acceptance.
“Nathan,” I say, my voice gruff.
“I’ve been watching the preseason games. The Rampage is looking good,” he says.
“Yeah, the team is tight. We’re hoping for another record season,” I answer, feeling my shoulders relax. This is comfortable, what I know, because it’s the same conversation every time I call. This time, I need to make it different.
“I have no doubt,” he tells me. “Hold on a second. Hope, it’s Foster on the line. Do you want to come say hi?” he asks. I hear a shriek in the background, and then Nathan’s laugh. “I’m going to put you on speaker phone,” he tells me, and I hear shuffling, then Hope’s voice.
“Foster, it’s been too long,” Hope tells me with affection.
“Sorry, ma’am.”
“Hope,” she corrects gently, and I curse myself inwardly.
I can see it now. I can even feel it through the tone of their voices: the affection they have for me.
The affection I’ve been ignoring for all these years.
The guilt is heavy, but there’s time to make it right.
To bring them back into my life, in any capacity they wish.
If they turn me away, which deep down, I know they won’t, that’s okay.
I’ll still have Eden, and she’s everything I need.
However, there’s a piece of me, a bigger piece than I thought possible, that really wants them to be there, too.
“Hey, I know this is short notice, but next week is the first official home game of the season, which is also the first regular season game for us. I was wondering if you all wanted to come?”
They’re in Cincinnati, so it’s not a far drive, and even shorter flight.
“Yes!” Hope cheers. “Will we get to see you while we’re there?”
Fuck, that question cuts deep. “Y-Yeah, actually, I was hoping you could come a few days early. We could catch up.”
“Foster?” Nathan asks. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything is good. Better than good, actually, or it will be.”
“Let me see if I can get a reservation,” Hope says. “I’ll look as soon as we get off this call.”
“Actually, why don’t you all just stay with me?” Silence greets me on the other line, but I know the call is still connected. “I mean, only if you want to.”
“We’d love to, Foster,” Hope replies softly, and I can hear the emotion in her voice. “When?”
“The game is Sunday, so I thought a few days earlier. Wednesday or Thursday? I’ll have practice, but I could have one of the guys pick me up, and you could keep my car and enjoy the city while you’re here.”
“We can get a rental,” Nathan tells me.
“Really, it’s not a problem,” I tell them.
“I’ve got some vacation days I need to use. I’m sure I can find a sub,” Hope says. “I’m aiming for Wednesday. A few days to catch up with you sounds wonderful,” she gushes.
“As soon as you know, I’ll book your flights.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Nathan says.
“I want to.”
“Book them,” Hope tells me. “We’re coming on Wednesday, and we’ll leave Monday if that’s all right with you?”
“Are you sure you can get the time off?”
“I’m sure,” she says, sounding confident.
“Coach?”
He chuckles. “You know I have one hell of a coaching staff. I can miss a game.”
“I hate for you to do that,” I tell him. Usually, they visit later in the year after his high school season has ended.
“We’ll be there, Foster.”
Emotion builds in the back of my throat, but I swallow it down. “Okay. I’ll see you next week.”
“Oh, I can’t wait,” Hope says.
We talk for a few more minutes before we end the call, just as Eden comes home.
“You’re smiling. That’s a good sign,” she says, kicking off her shoes and coming to sit next to me on the couch.
Before her ass hits the cushion, I reach out and tug her onto my lap, burying my face in her neck and wrapping my arms around her. “Yeah, baby, I’m smiling.”
“I take it everything went okay?” she asks, turning and resting her head on my shoulder.
“Yeah,” I tell her, because forming more words than that just isn’t possible at the moment. Instead, I hold her, and in turn, she clings to me. Even if the Pruitts had shot me down, it still would have been okay because of the woman in my arms.
She makes everything okay.
“I’ve got another one,” Nathan says, eyes crinkling at the corners with his laugh. “This one is all Foster.” He grins.
“Oh, is this the shoe?” Hope asks, eyes twinkling.
“Ugh,” I groan, which only makes them laugh harder.
I’m pretending to be annoyed, but tonight has been incredible.
I was nervous, but they showed up, hugged me, then Eden, and with each minute that passed, the nerves fell away.
We had a nice dinner of steak and baked potatoes that Eden made, with Hope’s insistence to help.
Now, we’re sitting around talking, and Coach Nathan is telling stories of my high school and college football days, moments even I forgot about, and some I didn’t think he knew about.
“That seals the deal.” Eden pokes my side. “I need to hear this one.”
“It’s a doozy,” Nathan assures her. “Okay. Here goes.” He leans forward, rubbing his hands together. “It was his senior year, Friday night lights,” he says, setting the stage. “Foster gets the handoff from our QB, and I’m telling you, the line opens up like the heavens. Perfectly,” Nathan says.
“It really did,” Hope agrees.
“It was like Moses parted the Red Sea,” Nathan says as laughter rumbles in his chest. “So, Foster takes the opportunity. He bursts through, jukes one defender, stiff-arms another, and is flying, as if he had wings, toward the endzone.”
“I’m new to this juke and stiff-arm business, but I’m with you,” Eden tells him, smiling. I slide my arm around her shoulders and pull her closer.
She’s never close enough.
“Oh, we’ll get you there,” Hope assures her.