Chapter 48
NASH
We’re all suited up in the locker room to go out for practice, and Vaughn still isn’t here.
“Has he messaged anyone?” Hayden asks, worry lining his face.
We all double-check our phones, but still shake our heads no.
Adriano’s lips press tight as he scrolls his phone. “He hasn’t said anything in the group chat for the last two days, either. I didn’t think much of it at the time, because, you know, it’s Vaughn. But …”
Worry knots through my stomach. “Has he at least viewed any of the messages?”
“Doesn’t look like it,” Noah answers.
“Shit,” Cooper says. “I’ve never known Vaughn to even be late for anything. Missing a practice? That’s not him.”
“Maybe we should have Coach cancel it and go check on him at his place?” Noah proposes.
I’m about to agree to that, and volunteer to be the one to go to Coach about it, when all our phones vibrate at the same time.
“It’s Vaughn,” Adriano says, relief in his voice, but still a tinge of uncertain worry.
VAUGHN
Sorry. Missing practice. Something came up.
“As detailed and forthcoming as he always is,” Adriano snarks.
“At least he’s alive and okay,” I say.
“We hope he’s okay,” Noah replies. “This still doesn’t sit right with me.”
“Let’s still visit him after practice,” Cooper says. “I have the feeling something’s going on.”
Practice was pretty much a shit show. No one was in the right mindset. Coach even dismissed us early, since skating around and doing drills sloppily without our heads in the game is likely to do more bad than good.
We all drove to Vaughn’s place afterward. He’s got a house in the Tarrytown section of Austin, close to the Colorado River. Once the six of us are all parked on the street, we walk up as a group to his door.
Cooper rings the doorbell.
We wait. Time extends as we all stand awkwardly on his porch, a sense of unease in the air.
Finally, we hear footsteps approach. They’re strangely quiet, though, like Vaughn’s sneaking around his own house for some reason.
Even the way the lock unlatches from the inside and the doorknob turns is quiet. So is the way the door slowly swings open—to reveal Vaughn carrying a little boy, sleeping with his head resting on Vaughn’s shoulder. The kid looks to be about five, maybe six years old.
“Oh. Um, hey, guys.” Vaughn’s voice is a whisper. A very, very tired whisper. His expression is strained, his eyes cloudy like he hasn’t slept in a day.
“Hey, man,” Cooper says. “Sorry to show up like this, but we were all worried. Is that, like, a nephew of yours visiting or something?”
Vaughn looks at the boy in his arms, his straight dark hair feathered on Vaughn’s shoulder. A strange look lights in his eyes. Affection, but also surprise, like he can’t quite believe what he’s looking at.
“No,” Vaughn shakes his head. He takes a deep breath and lets it out in a long, heavy sigh. “This is my son.”