CHAPTER 10 #2
So late that night while alone in her room while her heart and her mind had a vicious battle, she called her mom, who despite being two hours later than Tessa’s 11pm, still picked up immediately.
“Honey?” Allison’s voice came through warm yet concerned over the line, and Tessa immediately started crying at the soothing sound of her mother’s voice.
“Mom…” She croaked out.
“What is it? Are you okay?” She asked urgently.
“Yeah yeah I’m safe,” she blurted out immediately, hearing the sigh of relief from her mother, “I just…I think I need to come home.”
“Something happened with Tristan.” Her mom said.
She didn’t need to ask. She always knew things even before Tessa did; her mother’s instinct was always on point.
She also knew that Tessa was planning on going back to Ohio with Tristan, Jordan, and Katie for Thanksgiving, so this very abrupt change of plans told Allison everything she needed to know.
“Yeah,” Tessa croaked out, barely able to breathe.
“Pack your bags,” Allison said quickly, “I’ll find you a flight out in the morning.”
Tristan sees the judge Monday morning, after a painstakingly boring 36-hour stint in the slammer.
For his first time being locked up, it sure was uneventful, and all he thought about the whole time was Tessa.
She didn’t answer any of his county collect calls, and she never tried to call him either, and his stomach was in knots because of it.
He was aware that the news of his arrest had made it to Coach Adams, but he didn’t know what the repercussions of his actions would be, although he knew it wouldn’t be good.
Maybe he’d be benched the rest of the season or community service.
Whatever it was, he could handle. If it meant that he got to beat the shit out of Jake for touching Tessa and making her feel scared and unsafe, he could handle being benched for a few games.
Tristan walked out of the jail building once he was given back his belongings and a stack of paperwork detailing his next court appearance and the community service hours he would be required to complete within the next 30 days.
He knew there would be way more punishment than this that would come with more court dates, but if he was able to walk out of jail a free man, he was thankful.
Until he saw his brother waiting for him outside.
“You’re such a fucking asshole!” Jordan yelled, pushing Tristan hard enough that he stumbled backward. He caught himself before falling and shook his head at his older brother.
“Nice to see you too.”
“Don’t fuck with me Trist this is bad. Like really bad.”
“Where’s Tessa?” He asks, trying to turn his phone on only to see it out of power.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jordan asked, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.
“What?” Tristan asked calmly, looking into his brother’s eyes. “Seriously, where is she?”
“Is she all you fucking care about?”
“No but I mean, she’s pretty fucking up there on the priority list,” he said with a chuckle. “Does she know?”
“Yes of course she knows, Trist.”
“And now she doesn’t want to talk to me, huh?”
“I don’t fucking know what that girl wants. All I know is that you need to go see Coach Adams, ASAP.”
Tristan sighed and rolled his shoulders, feeling the anxiety and tension coming over his body again.
“How bad is it?”
“It’s bad, Trist,” Jordan said, his voice becoming softer and more solemn. “You need to go see him right now.”
“I have no choice, son,” coach Adams said, sighing, and holding his head down, clearly not enjoying any part of delivering this message.
Tristan was stunned. He could feel the blood rushing into his head and a thin layer of sweat forming on his brow. Off the team? For good? Losing his scholarship? What the fuck was he going to do now?
His teary green eyes stared at the floor blankly, tears quietly rolling down his cheeks, his heart pinching and thumping painfully in his chest.
“Fuck,” he whispered.
“I’m devastated for you and for the team,” Coach Adams says, looking at Tristan’s wilting body. “But there’s nothing I can do about it. You already broke two rules, Tristan. A positive drug test and a failing grade. This was your third strike, and it’s a bad one.”
Tristan exhaled and put his head into his hands and finally let the sobs break from his soul. What the fuck was he going to do now?
Coach Adams tried to hand him some paperwork on resources, counselors, and career options specifically for football players who could no longer play, usually due to a career ending injury, but Tristan pushed them away and walked out of the coach’s office, completely defeated and dejected.
He would have to call his dad and tell him.
He didn’t think he could handle seeing the disappointment on his dad’s face.
Tristan made his way out of the building, ignoring Jordan who was calling after him and asking if he was okay. He tried one more time to call Tessa, and it went straight to voicemail. He decided he was going straight to her house.
“So then where is she?” Tristan asks the two girls sitting across from him.
They had welcomed him in easily, got him situated on their couch with a cup of tea, and were now sitting in the antique armchairs that were across from the couch.
The look in their eyes worried Tristan and made him feel like he was going to be sick.
“She went back home, Tristan,” Amber whispered, giving him a sad smile. “She’s in Pennsylvania. She left early this morning.”
He nodded silently, looking at the tiny cup of tea in his hands that he knew wasn’t actually tiny, but in his hands it was.
“When is she coming back?” He asks timidly. “I love her, you know.”
Amber nodded, tears filling her eyes.
“We know, you do” Abigail responded, her tough exterior beginning to break seeing the huge macho man in front of her with tears in his eyes and his shattered heart on his sleeve.
“But we’re not sure when she’s coming back.
She’ll probably stay for all of Thanksgiving break, but she didn’t really give us a deadline. ”
“Her ticket was one way,” Amber whispered, and Tristan let out a long sigh and slumped into the couch.
“I can’t lose her you guys, it would kill me. To lose football and her?” He shook his head, trying to get the images of such a depressing existence out of his mind.
“We’re sure she’ll come back once classes start again,” Abigail said.
“Just maybe give her some space,” Amber suggests. “And work really hard on making it up to her. She feels very guilty Tristan. She feels like she’s the reason you lost everything you worked so hard for.”
“It’s not her fault,” he says sternly, locking eyes with them, and they nod their agreement.
“We know that but she’s struggling with it,” Abigail says.
“Just give her a few days,” Amber says gently, “I’m sure she’ll be back.”
A week has passed since Tessa left for Pennsylvania and Tristan discovered that he was no longer on the team and lost his scholarship.
The dark hole that Tristan had found himself in was far deeper and more depressing than what he thought he was capable of.
He had always been so happy and easy-going his whole life, but he had encountered two huge losses in the span of a few days.
He lost football and the only girl he’s ever loved.
He feels pain not just in his chest, but in his whole body.
It is a chore to even get out of bed, eat, shower, get even a second of sunlight.
His brother tries, his friends try, Katie tries, all to no avail.
And to top it off his dad is so disappointed in him that he’s not speaking to Tristan either.
The only saving grace at this point is Diane, Tristan’s mom, who flew in and was staying at Jordan and Tristan’ home.
Not that there’s enough room for her, but her child is suffering, and she’ll be damned if she’d be anywhere else.
“Trist, honey, you need to eat,” Diane said, cautiously walking into Tristan’ room to find him in the same spot that he was in last night. “I made your favorite,” she said, holding up a plate of French toast, and his stomach grumbles hungrily.
He reluctantly pushes to sit up in his bed and takes the plate from his mom, giving her a small but genuine smile and taking a small bite. “Thanks ma.”
“I think we should talk about next steps,” Diane says as she sits on the edge of his bed. “We can keep you enrolled at Vanderbilt or you can come back to Ohio, where there’s plenty of places you could go to school. Or maybe trade school? Have you ever thought about that?”
He grunts and rolls his eyes. She knows he’s never given a second thought to any of that shit. His whole life has been football since he was 5 years old.
He hears a chime from his phone, saving him from answering his mother’s overwhelming question, and he nearly drops the plate of food when he sees an email from Tessa.
“She emailed me,” he said with wide eyes. “Why the fuck would she email me?”
“Well open it!” His mother said, leaning over to get a glimpse of what he was staring at on his phone, but she then saw the look in his eyes and took the plate of food from him and moved closer, fearing the worst. “Tristan, what does it say honey?” She asked gently.
His eyes scan over the email, his mind racing, blood pumping, heart splitting right down the middle.
Tristan,
I’m writing this to inform you that I will not be returning to Vanderbilt University.
I apologize profusely for what my presence in your life has caused.
I am deeply regretful and wish there was something I could do to reverse everything that has happened.
Please know I tried desperately and hopelessly to convince Coach Adams and the administration at Vanderbilt to reverse their horrific decision to remove you from the team, but I was simply told there was nothing that could be done.