Page 15

CHAPTER 15

blue

“ Y ou’re a total jackass,” Stilts said as he pulled a glass out of our kitchen cabinet. “And that’s the nicest thing I can say about you right now.”

A storm of anger ripped through my chest. “You can kiss my?—”

“Nah, I’ll just kick it. How about that?” He put the glass under the running tap.

I huffed. “Like you could.”

Stilts set the glass down, and slapped his hands on the counter between us, levying a terrifying glare. “You wanna know what Lacy is? She’s trash. Trash who wanted to ride your coattails as far as she could. She brought out the worst in you. She’s a terrible person who made your life miserable.”

“How?” I asked, because she’d done me a favor today. Saved me from myself, apparently. “She can’t be worse than Anna.”

“Worse than Anna?” He snorted. “Lacy cheated on you. Constantly.” He threw his hands up. “You cheated on each other. Like a pair of swingers.”

My jaw clamped and it felt like he’d sucker punched me in the gut. That did explain my Instagram feed.

Crap.

“Yeah.” He held up his massive left hand. “She ran up thousands of dollars on your credit card buying whatever she wanted. And never paid you back.” He ticked off a finger. “Threw parties on your dime every weekend, trashing our apartment repeatedly. Didn’t care that you’re trying to save every penny you can in case the NFL doesn’t work out.” Tick. “Took her friends on vacation using your money and didn’t even ask if that was okay. You didn’t know where she was for five days. You thought she’d been sex trafficked. Nope. Just on a cruise to Mexico with seven friends.” Tick. “Whenever you tried to break up with her she’d threaten to kill herself.” Tick. “And she gave you a black eye.” He threw his hands up, done counting. “It took months to untangle yourself from her and once you finally did, it took you a year and thousands of dollars in therapy to get over the damage she’d done. But hey.” He slapped the counter again. “If you want to choose to believe her over the girl who you said, and I quote, ‘Was the only person who ever loved me for who I am and not my athletic talent,’ go right ahead.”

I pressed my hands on top of the counter, processing, wishing I could vomit this sickness in my stomach. “We cheated on each other?”

“Every day it was a guessing game. Who’s coming out of Blue’s bedroom this morning? It was like you wanted to see who could hurt the other more.” It sounded like it hurt him to think about it. “I hated who you were with her.” He shook his head. “ You hated who you were.”

The worst part was, I was pretty sure I hadn’t even been in love with Lacy. I’d felt nothing when I saw her today. Not even a hint of attraction. A flatline of hormones and emotions compared to what Anna did to my internal organs.

I blew out an exhale. The events of the day had sucked most of my energy and this was taking up the rest. “But man, Anna broke up with me because I was poor.” The memory of Lacy’s words stabbed me yet again. My eyelids prickled it hurt so much.

“I don’t know if that’s true or not. You never said a word about it to me. But I do know that Anna Dupree is all you ever talked about. The one that got away.” He chuckled, bitterness lacing his tone. “Once, when you and Lacy were broken up, you got Brion to go with you to Sweet Grass to see her. You were determined to get her back. You drove my beamer.”

My head snapped up. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. It was a bye week, early on in our sophomore year. I couldn’t go because I was getting over a cold and needed to rest. She’d just started her freshman year I think. You had grand visions of her coming to your games. Hanging out with her on the offseason.”

“What happened?” Anna said we hadn’t seen each other in four years. She never mentioned that I’d come to see her.

He sat on the counter, long legs dangling. “You wouldn’t talk about it. But Brion says you pulled up to her dorm and she was snuggled up on a bench outside with her boyfriend. Guy with curly blond hair. You wouldn’t even get out and say hello. The two of you just watched her for a few minutes and then turned around and drove home. He said it was the most depressing road trip of all time. You wouldn’t let him stop for food on the way, or turn the radio on even. You just rode in painful silence, staring out the window while he drove.”

I swore, pounding a fist against my thigh. I was an idiot. An idiot who needed the truth. I pulled my phone from my pocket and walked into our living room.

“Mom?” I said when she answered.

“Hey, Blue Boy.” Her voice was sad. She’d seen the press conference. “You messed up, hon.”

I flopped onto the couch. “Did she dump me because we were poor?”

“That’s what you told me. But I only got your side of it and your pride was definitely hurt.”

My fists clenched. I’d wanted to be wrong.

She sighed. “But I don’t believe it for a second. You were the one that was self-conscious about being poor. Blue, sweetie, that girl loved you regardless of football, economic status, or anything else. I’ve never seen two people look at each other with more love than the two of you did.”

I pounded my thigh again. “Why didn’t she deny it?”

“I think she’s blamed herself all these years. Anna takes responsibility for her actions. That’s how she was raised.” She paused, taking a beat. “And so were you. At least by me.”

I sat up straight, not liking the implication in her tone. “What is that supposed to mean?”

She huffed. “It means you’re not taking responsibility. It means your dad let you do whatever you wanted. Once you got to California I had no control anymore. And your dad didn’t care as long as you performed on the field. Morals? Shot. Humility? Ha. Blaming everyone else for your mistakes? The order of the day.”

My molars clenched so hard it sent pain slamming into my left temple. “Why didn’t she stick up for herself today?”

“With all of you coming at her like a pack of wolves surrounding roadkill? I’m surprised she hung around as long as she did.”

My head dropped into my hand. “I have to fix this.”

Mom snorted. “Good luck with that.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“I’m serious. I wish you the best, son. But you and I have always been straight with each other. I don’t know how to be any other way. I love you, Blue, but if I were Anna, I would never speak to you again. And if I were her uncles, I wouldn’t let you anywhere near her.”

The thought of it put pure panic in my chest like nothing I’d ever felt. Or could remember feeling. “Thank you for being straight with me, Mom. Love you. I gotta go.”

I sat there trying to think of the perfect thing to say to Anna. But how do you tell someone you’re sorry for humiliating them on national television and do it any justice? Finally I just went for it, dialing her number.

Try one, sent to voicemail. Try two, voicemail. Try five, voicemail. I switched to texting. The lamest possible way to apologize.

Anna, I’m so sorry. I messed up. I’m just having a hard time knowing who to believe.

I stared at my phone, praying she’d answer. When her texting indicator started up, I held my breath, letting myself hope. The text came in with a ping, making me jump.

Anna

Suck it.

I jerked in shock. Suck it? It didn’t seem like something she would say. At least not after the time we’d spent together at the hospital. Even in high school she’d seemed classier than that.

I tried calling again. Half a ring later, I was sitting in voicemail jail. I tried FaceTime. Denied.

Please answer the phone. I’d like to apologize not over a text.

Her texting indicator wiggled for a full four minutes. I held my breath for every one of them.

Anna

Dear Douchebag, Just thought you should know that I’ve decided to start dating myself. It’s going great so far—I treat myself with respect, never put myself down on national TV, and I don’t believe my money-grabbing, jersey-chasing ex over an upstanding, long-time friend. You might want to try dating yourself sometime. I think you’ll find it quite satisfying. Oh wait, you’re a codependent, cocky, self-centered wuss who hides behind muscles, speed, and an extraordinary dimple you don’t deserve. Looks like you’re screwed for life. Oh well. Best of luck in your future endeavors. Cheers, Anna

PS: Please sign the contract your dad made with Texas even if it does screw you over completely. It’ll get you 1,038 miles farther from me.

I fell back onto the couch, face on fire, a hot poker rammed through my chest. Had she googled the distance between Knoxville and Austin? A quick search told me yes, indeed she had.

My phone rang. It was Anna. I stared at her name, completely conflicted. Did I want more of that, orally?

On the third ring I hit the green check. “Hello?”

“Uh, sorry. Brooklyn sent those texts.” Her soft voice was the best thing I’d heard in seven hours. I exhaled in relief.

A girl cackled in the background.

“Brook, stop,” Anna warned.

It took a second to catch my breath. “Anna?—”

“No,” she said, her voice trembling. “I didn’t call for some kind of reconciliation. I just wanted you to know that I wouldn’t write something like Brooklyn just did. I was raised better than that.”

“I wasn’t!” Brooklyn called in the background.

I rubbed my temple. “Please, can we just talk about everything? About us?”

She sniffed, and it sounded like she was crying. “I told you in the hospital that you shouldn’t make any promises. You don’t know which end is up right now. So no, I don’t think that’s a good idea. And even if you did remember, I don’t think it’ll make a difference after today. Maybe. But I doubt it. Please don’t call or text me anymore. Bye, B-Blue.” It sounded like she choked my name out on a sob. Then the call ended.

My eyes burned and I knew if things ended like this, losing Anna would be the greatest regret of my life. What else could I do? Pay Stilts to drive me to Sweet Grass? I wasn’t cleared to drive yet and I wasn’t sure that crap-mobile sitting in the driveway that Stilts swore was my car would make the drive. No. I’d lost Anna once because of impatience and selfishness. I wouldn’t do it again. And driving up to win her back after she’d asked me not to contact her would probably look like both of those things. I could send her roses. But that seemed like the generic sucker move. And if Anna really didn’t care about money or status, she’d be offended if I tried to buy her off.

Then I remembered that her uncle, Silas, liked me. My thumbs pounded the keyboard in a thundering fury.

Hey man, I’m sure you saw what happened today. I messed up. Big time. I believed the wrong people. I was hoping you could talk to Anna for me. Just let her know how sorry I am. She’s asked me not to call or text anymore. Please.

I deleted the last word and retyped it three times. It sounded desperate. But I was desperate and he should know it. I hit send.

I stared at my phone for thirteen minutes and nothing happened. Finally, when I couldn’t sit still anymore, I got up and paced. Stilts watched me from the kitchen with a raised brow as he cooked up some frozen stir-fry. Twenty-two minutes after I’d sent the text, I headed for my bedroom. I folded a laundry basket full of clothes that my mom had washed. I focused, trying to force my brain to remember anything—from which drawer my stupid clothes belonged in to exactly what happened when Anna and I broke up.

She’d said there was no point in talking until I remembered—and maybe not even then. But I couldn’t let myself believe that part. Maybe was my clarion call. I would hold onto that word with all I had. I tried with all my might to remember. Why wouldn’t my stupid brain let me?

Once the clothes were put away, I picked up the clear bag of belongings the hospital had sent home with me and dumped the contents onto my bed. I went through them one by one. My sweaty football pants smelled like a large rodent had crawled into the crotch and died. My jersey—which they’d cut down the middle—was barely better. Socks were far worse.

When I picked up my cleats, something shiny caught my eye.

I tilted my head, trying to see if there really was a piece of gold jewelry tucked inside. I shook my left shoe until it fell into my hand. Then I stared down at a necklace with the acronym A.N.D. centered on the chain. And ? And what? What was that code for? I walked into the kitchen.

Stilts tipped his chin up. “Food’s ready,” he said around the bite in his mouth.

I held up the chain. “What is this?”

He chewed and then swallowed. “That’s the necklace Anna gave you when you moved away.”

A.N.D. Anna Dupree. My mouth parted. “What does the N stand for?”

He shrugged. “You told me once. Nancy? Natalie? Nadine? I don’t remember.”

For once my brain gave me the answer. Annaleise Nicole Dupree. “Nicole. It’s Nicole.” I scowled. “Why was it in my football cleat if we broke up four years ago?” None of this made any sense.

“They must’ve taken it off you in the hospital. It’s your lucky charm. You never take it off. They tape it to you during games.” He snorted. “It’s like you’re still in love with her or something.”

“I never take it off?”

“Nope.” The P popped and he shoved another massive bite in his mouth.

“Even when I dated Lacy?”

He nodded. “Yup.”

“And other girls?”

Another nod and a gigantic gulp. “Pretty messed up, bro. No wonder those relationships didn’t work out, huh?”

I scrubbed a hand over my face. “But it’s normal to have a lucky charm, right? What’s yours?”

“Don’t have one. But I suck. I’m third string.” He shrugged. “And I’m okay with that.”

“But other guys have them, right?”

“I mean, they have superstitions. Like Brion won’t floss his teeth all season. He swears any time he flosses, we lose.”

That was just insanity. And terrible dental hygiene. Then again, wearing your ex-girlfriend’s necklace for four years post-breakup would also land a spot on the chart of insane things athletes do in the name of winning.

Stilts wiggled a finger while he took a large drink of water. “Once, you forgot to tape it on during practice and it got ripped off. You made the entire team stay an hour after looking for it. When we couldn’t find it, you got the maintenance guys out there with metal detectors. Finally found it six hours after practice was over.” He swiped on his phone and scrolled. Then he slid it across the counter. Sure enough, I was grinning like an idiot, necklace held up for the camera, metal detector on the ground by my feet. “You told Marco, the guy who found it, that you’d name your first son after him. He still believes it, to this day.”

Holy crap. Twenty-year-old Blue didn’t love Anna Dupree a little bit. I was ridiculously, stupidly, entirely in love with her. Still.

I shook my head, frustrated. “Would’ve been nice to know before I set that relationship on fire today.”

Stilts held his hands up arrested style. “Not a mind reader over here. Don’t have a lucky eight ball.” He shrugged one shoulder, slurping a noodle in his mouth. “But maybe we should buy one.” He swallowed. “Last time I saw the two of you, you looked solid.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket. Forty nine minutes after I’d sent the text, Silas finally responded.

Silas Dupree

I’m not a miracle worker, Blue. And honestly, after today, I can’t even decide if I’m in your corner. She’s my daughter, basically. Do I want her to be with someone who would treat her the way you did? Absolutely not. If I hadn’t known you for years and thought I wouldn’t get locked up, I’d take a switch to your backside. I’m trying to give you grace. Clem says that’s what I should do. But the verdict is still out. If you’re a praying man, you might want to start right now. And if you’re not, you might want to try making your own magic. You’re going to need it.

My head fell back and I exhaled in defeat.

Madden chuckled his stupid chuckle. “You act like you’re helpless, dude.”

I threw my hands up. “I kind of am. She won’t even talk to me until my memory comes back and even then it’s nowhere close to a guarantee.”

He speared a chunk of bell pepper with his fork. “You’re going to Seddledowne this weekend. Find a way to get her there.”

“How? Why would she show up if I’m going to be there?”

“You signed with McDonald’s last month to get your own meal. You made a ton of money doing an ad for the local car dealership. You have your own jersey line. And you make bank off of UK every year. All that money has to help you somehow. If you’ll actually spend some of it for once.”

“I can’t buy her off, man. She’s not like that.”

He nodded. “I know. That’s the best thing about her. And she’s frickin’ gorgeous,” he added as an aside. “But there are plenty of other people who will happily take your money.” He popped the bite into his mouth, then backed it out again. “You didn’t sign that contract your dad gave you, did you?”

“No. Wait. How did you know about that?”

“Anna. She said it benefits your dad. Not you. She was adamant about me not letting you sign it.”

I’d figured out the same thing when I read it after today’s fiasco.

My hands flew up to the back of my head. “Wait. She took the time to tell you that after I humiliated her in front of everyone?”

“She did.” Stilts nodded, wearing a pity expression. “Good thing you’re not a betting man, Blue. Your instincts suck. You definitely backed the wrong horse today.”

“Did you just quote Daisy Foxhorn?”

Another shrug. “Out of context. That’s the only way I’d quote her on anything.” He cuffed my shoulder. “Terrible instincts, bro. Just terrible.”

But that’s where he was wrong. I had great instincts, apparently. But instincts don’t do you a lick of good if you don’t listen to them.

I walked out of the room and sat back on the couch. As much as it pained me to do it—and it pained me a lot—I opened TikTok to begin my humble pie apology video for the whole world to see. It wouldn’t take back what had happened today, but it would take the heat off of Anna. I pressed record.