Chapter 41
Mallorie Jade
“Are you going to tell me whose house this is?” I ask.
We are walking up the sidewalk of an older brick home, and so far, Hayes has been tight-lipped about it.
“A friend’s.”
“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to give me?”
He looks back over his shoulder, a mischievous glint in his eye. “It’s better to experience him yourself.”
Behind me, Tanner mumbles, “Well, that makes us feel better. Quick MJ, let’s get out of here. I think he brought us here to murder us.”
Hayes shoots him an annoyed look, and I have to chuckle. Tanner’s a funny kid when he actually opens up.
It’s Saturday, and we are supposed to be having practice, but Hayes called me last night and said he wanted me to meet someone.
He’d explained what happened with Tanner’s dad.
I still can’t believe it’s Theo—or that he was trying to date me to get to my parents. Okay, I can believe that part. My whole life, people have been seeking me out because they wanted the influence of my parents, but the sad thing is, I would have helped Theo without manipulations because I love his son.
On the porch, Hayes raises his hand to knock. But the door swings open before he can bring his hand down.
“What are you doing? Standing out here like a dud, boy? Get in here.”
My mouth drops open, and I reach to cover Tanner’s eyes. An older man stands in the doorway with a T-shirt and underwear on, his tattoos on full display up his arm. He’s wearing a boyish smile on his face.
I like him already—despite being traumatized.
Tanner reaches up, trying to push my hand away, but I keep it there, leaning in to whisper, “Trust me. I’m saving you from being traumatized.”
On the other side of me, Hayes has his eyes screwed shut. I wish I could, but the shock has mine frozen wide open. “Silas, what did I tell you about opening the door without pants?”
Silas chuckles, a deep, booming laugh. “You told me you were coming to visit, not bringing company.”
Hayes slaps his hand to his forehead, still keeping his eyes closed. “Just go get some pants on, please.”
“Will do,” Silas says with a salute to Hayes and a wink to me. “But first, did you bring me my milkshake?”
Hayes groans, but I lift my hand, the one that isn’t over Tanner’s eyes, and offer him the milkshake.
He takes it, and with one last wink, he disappears into the house.
“Is it safe to look?” Tanner asks.
Hayes peeks one eye open. “Safe is subjective around here.”
“Who was that?” I ask.
“That was Silas,” Hayes deadpans.
I roll my eyes. “I gathered that, Hayes. How did you meet?”
Silas’s hearing must be better than average because from somewhere in the back of the house, he yells, “He arrested me.”
Looking Hayes dead in the eye, I yell back, “Join the club. He arrested me, too.”
Tanner’s head whips to Hayes. “What? You arrested, MJ?”
“This is going exactly as bad as I thought it would,” Hayes grumbles, and I grin.
“I kind of like him,” I say.
Hayes rolls his eyes at me. “Of course you do. You might as well be the same people.”
My grin grows wider.
“Come on. Let’s go wait for Silas in the living room.”
We pass through a small foyer and walk into the living room with mismatched furniture. The decor should look ridiculous, but the mish-mash of belongings actually makes it look homey.
Within seconds of us sitting down, Silas joins us, still sipping on his milkshake.
“So, Hayes, what do I owe the pleasure today?”
Hayes glances at Tanner and then at me. “I was hoping that you’d be willing to share your story with us.”
Wrinkles appear between Silas’s brow. “Which one? I have many. That’s the thing about being old. You collect stories like stamps.”
“Your football story.”
“Ah,” Silas says, groaning as he sits in a weathered rocking chair by the window, “that story. I suppose I can do that. Though I must warn our guests that it’s not a pretty one.”
I offer him an encouraging smile. “I’m learning that most stories aren’t. It’s the way you choose to come back from the that matters.”
Silas reaches out, patting my hand. “Too true, young lady. Too true.” He looks to Tanner, who is studying the pattern on the couch, his good mood nowhere to be found. “What about you, young man? Can you handle tough experiences?”
Tanner shrugs, not looking up. “I have been my whole life. I don’t think hearing about yours will be much harder.”
“Then let’s see—where should I start?” He taps his chin, tattoos lining his wrinkled fingers. “I guess the beginning is always a good place to start.”
Hayes is sitting beside me on the couch, and as Silas begins to tell his story, he leans back, pulling me with him. With his arm around my shoulder and Tanner sitting on the other side of me, we settle in to listen.
“I was two the first time my father put a football in my hand. I think I loved it even then. As I grew older, I put everything I could into making sure I never had to quit playing. But I also grew cocky because I was good—really good. The problem with being good at something, though, is it doesn’t always build character—or maybe it does, just the wrong kind.”
He pauses, his gaze turning thoughtful, getting lost in a time long ago. His thumb traces the edge of his chair in a pattern, the only sign that this story might be hard for him to talk about.
Tanner leans forward on the couch, placing his elbows on his knees like the story Silas has to tell could be the words that change him.
“Anyway,” Silas says, still rubbing the spot on his chair, “I made it into the NFL. But looking back, football was all I knew. I spent my whole life trying to make it to that spot, and once I was there, I wasn’t sure what I was working for anymore. So, I became reckless. I started making a lot of bad decisions because I had it in my mind that I was invincible. I was young and stupid. It was my first year as a rookie, and we had just won a big game. I wanted to go out and celebrate, but my teammates turned me down. They had families to go home to. But not me—I had no one because, on my way up the totem pole, I managed to shove everyone back down it. I didn’t see how I would need those people later on.”
There’s so much sadness in the wrinkles on his face, and when I turn to look at Tanner, it’s the same sadness in his eyes. The two are like a mirror, reflecting the past and present.
One young. The other old.
One who learned his lesson the hard way and the other who still has the chance to learn from others’ mistakes.
I want to reach out and hug them both.
Hayes’s arm tightens around me as if he can read my thoughts.
A pinch of anger tightens Tanner’s face. “I think you had the right idea. You only disappoint people when they are around anyway.”
There’s a pang of sadness in my chest for Tanner, but I try to rub it away. Silas picks up his milkshake to study the boy. When he sets it back down, his gaze turns contemplative. “Maybe you’re right, but let’s say you push everyone away in the fear of disappointing them—you know who will still be disappointed in the end?”
Tanner shakes his head, a piece of his hair falling into his face.
“The ones that are so disappointed in themselves that they can’t see the good in others. Not everyone will let you down, Tanner, even the ones that have a right to. That night, I went out on my own, and I got drunk. I made the decision to drive, even though I knew I shouldn’t. I hurt someone that night—I could have killed him—but by God’s grace, I didn’t. I spent many years in jail, bitter after that. I had lost everything—or what I thought was everything. In an instant, my football career vanished, and I was left with nothing else.”
Tanner’s face has gone pale, and when I look up at Hayes, he’s studying the kid like he knows this is the last chance he has at getting through to him—to really make him understand that football isn’t everything and that sometimes we have to step outside of the boundaries people place on us.
Sadness burns in my chest—for Tanner, and Silas, and Langston. Their stories are intertwined, and it breaks my heart.
“What happened to the guy?” Tanner asks, his voice cracking.
A flood of regret lines Silas’s face. “He was injured pretty badly—lost a leg—but do you know the first thing he did when he got out of the hospital?”
“No, sir. What?”
“He visited me in prison, and the first thing he said to me was that he forgave me. At the time, I didn’t want his forgiveness. I was dead set on feeling sorry for myself—wallowing in the guilt forever.” Silas stops and looks at Hayes. Hayes squirms under the attention, and I have to laugh.
Pinching my side, Hayes whispers against my hair, “I don’t know what you’re laughing at—you’re just as bad as me.”
It’s true—I am, but Silas doesn’t know my story, so I don’t have to worry about the lecture.
Breaking into my thoughts, Tanner asks, “What made you change your mind?”
Silas grins, the wrinkles on his face a testament to the life he’s lived. “He did. He kept coming back every week until, finally, I had no choice but to listen to what he had to say. It was hard to believe I deserved his forgiveness, and it was much easier to hold onto the guilt than forgive myself.”
The idea settles low in my stomach, making me a little nauseous. Is that what I’ve been doing? Was it easier to hold onto the guilt of Langston’s death than to face the fact that I had to forgive myself?
Hayes looks like he’s also taken a punch to the gut, and I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing.
“So how did you do it?” I ask. “Forgive yourself, that is.”
Silas turns to me. “I found God. I went into that prison not knowing a thing about him besides the fact that he existed, and I left knowing that there wasn’t a thing I could do to make him give up on me. That man I hurt was a pastor. He visited me every Saturday, packing his Bible. And even though I begrudged him for it, he didn’t miss a chance to tell me about God’s love and forgiveness. One day, he visited me and told me the story of the thief on the cross. Do you know it?”
I nod, but Tanner shakes his head.
“When Jesus was crucified, two other men were hanging on crosses beside him. The man on his right was a thief—known for being a bad man—but as he hung there, he asked that Jesus remember him in his Kingdom. Not only did Jesus forgive him, but he told the thief that he would see him again in Heaven. After the pastor told me that story, I spent many nights lying awake thinking about it. If God could forgive a sinner on his deathbed, could he forgive me too? God chipped away at my heart, and eventually, I had no choice but to believe he could.”
My heart races in my chest, and beside me, Hayes looks sick to his stomach.
We came here for Tanner to hear Silas’s story, but it seems we are getting our own butts handed to us.
Is it really that simple?
I’m not so sure.
Who can love without constraint like that? How can he love someone who has made so many mistakes—pursuing the one who’s failed instead of the many who haven’t?
______________________
“MJ.” My name is yelled down the hallway.
It’s Monday after our visit with Silas, and I was about to head home when I heard my name being called. Turning around, I look for the source. Tanner runs toward me at a dead sprint, fear clouding his face.
“What? What’s wrong?”
By the time he reaches me, he’s huffing, trying to catch his breath, and clutching at his head.
“It’s—It’s Bella. Something is wrong with her.”
Every instinct goes on high alert. “Where is she at?”
“The field.”
I take off sprinting, leaving him to follow me.
He keeps up with me easily, and as we run, my heart thunders in my ears.
Bella is pretty responsible with her diabetes, but there are times when even the most responsible diabetic has an episode.
And if it’s enough to scare Tanner, it’s enough to scare me.
The field seems a million miles away, but eventually, we make it.
Bella is lying on the bench on the sidelines, her eyes closed and face pale.
I slow to a jog as I approach, not wanting to startle her, and when I’m close enough, I gently say her name.
“Bella. Bella, honey, can you hear me?”
She doesn’t answer, and Tanner frets, pacing the field behind me and still clutching at his head.
“She was acting weird—talking out of her head. I tried to convince her to come see you, but she wouldn’t. And then—and then she passed out. I didn’t know what to do, so I picked her up and laid her on the bench so I could find you. Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt her?”
I watch him out of the corner of my eye. He winces with every word, and I have a feeling I’m about to have two medical cases on my hands.
Taking out my phone, I text Hayes, praying he’s still around.
Help me out here, God.
It’s a plea made out of desperation. A soft breeze picks up, blowing my hair, and a sense of peace fills my soul.
I reach for Bella’s wrist, taking her pulse. “Tanner, you didn’t do anything wrong, but can you do me a favor and sit down? I want to check you out next. How long have you been having a migraine?”
Bella’s pulse is strong. With my phone in hand, I check Bella’s number. A couple of weeks ago, we hooked up her sensor to my phone so I could check in on her throughout the day. I’m glad we did because she’s low—really, low.
As I rummage through Bella’s bag, Tanner sits like I ask him.
“I haven’t—I’m not—” he denies.
“Tanner, I can’t help you if you lie to me.”
He sighs. “Fine. I think it’s stress. It started when Bella passed out.”
Nodding, I say, “Okay, don’t move until I take care of Bella, and then I’m coming to you.”
With a glucose gel in hand, I lift Bella’s head, squeezing her cheeks to open her mouth. She mumbles something but still doesn’t open her eyes.
“Come on, Bella. You’ve got to wake up and eat this. I know you’re tired, but this will help you feel better.”
I squeeze the gel into her mouth, and she swallows, getting it into her system.
Sighing in relief, I turn to Tanner, “Do you have your phone? Can you call an ambulance for me?”
“Yeah. I can do that.” His hands are still shaking when he takes out his phone and dials the number.
Soon enough, the ambulance sirens can be heard down the road, and Hayes runs across the field, making a direct path toward us.
“What happened? What’s going on? Is she okay?”
When Hayes is close to us, Tanner jumps out of his seat and rushes to him, wrapping his arms around his neck.
Hayes holds the boy as he sobs into his shirt, his whole body shaking now.
“MJ?” Bella asks, groaning.
The gel hasn’t had time to work yet, so I place my hand on her shoulders, keeping her lying down.
“Don’t move too fast. You’re still pretty low. When was the last time you ate, Bella?”
Even with her face white as a ghost, Bella looks sheepish.
“I might have forgotten to eat today…but to my defense, I had a study session during lunch today. I was going to eat after, but I ran out of time. I thought I would be fine until I made it home.”
“Bella,” I scold, “You can’t do that. You scared poor Tanner over there half to death.”
Bella turns her head to where Tanner is now standing beside Hayes, wiping at his face. His face is flooded with red, embarrassment causing him to hide his eyes.
“I’m sorry, Tanner,” she croaks, reaching out her hand.
Tanner steps up, taking her hand in his, and glares down at her. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again.”
Bella rolls her eyes, a secret smile playing on her lips.
She did what she set out to do—she made him her friend.
Hayes stands with his hands in his pockets, watching the two kids.
The ambulance arrives, and they load Bella up. I called her mom when they first arrived, and she will meet Bella at the hospital.
I think she’s fine, but since she passed out, I want her to get checked out. It’s uncommon to pass out just from blood sugar, so I want to make sure nothing else is going on with her.
Once the ambulance is pulling out, I turn back to Tanner. “It’s your turn now. Sit down. I want to check your eyes.”
“MJ. I’m fine. Really. It’s just a headache.”
“That you keep getting, Tanner. That isn’t normal. Why can’t you see that? Help me out here, Hayes,” I say, turning to him for help.
“Tanner, do what MJ is asking you.”
Tanner rolls his eyes.
“If I let you look me over, will you calm down?”
“I make no promises.”
He sits down on the bench. “Fine. Have a look.”
Hayes watches me as I take out my phone and turn on the light. Flicking it back and forth between Tanner’s eyes, I track the movement.
Tanner flinches away from the light as if it pains him, but his pupils and dilation look fine.
Pressing around on his head, I search for any knots, but when I come up with none, I know he needs to see someone higher than me.
“Tanner, you can go, but I want you to go straight home, take medicine, and sleep off this headache. Stay off your phone, okay.”
He nods. “I promise.” Then he turns to Hayes. “Coach, do you think you could do me a favor?”
“What’s that, Tanner?”
“I—I think I would like to pray for Bella. Could you do it with me?”
Hayes scratches at the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable, but he nods, coming to sit beside the boy on the bench.
Tanner bows his head, and Hayes follows suit. I stand back, not wanting to intrude on this moment for them.
“Lord. I’m not really sure how to do this, but I need you to watch over my friend Bella. She loves you, and she’s one of the good ones. So, protect her, okay?”
He ends the prayer, lifting his head and looking around awkwardly. “Do you think that was okay, Coach?”
Tears gleam in Hayes’s eyes, “Yeah, buddy. I think that was good.”