Page 47 of Brick Wall

Sebastian

A week later, I’m back in the same position, lying in bed with my favorite person.

I love everything about Annie, but I also love how I can just lie next to her and feel completely at peace. It’s an amazing feeling, something I didn’t think would be a possibility for me.

I’m also extra at peace tonight because we won our first round of playoffs.

That’s right, we won our divisional round against Pittsburgh, and we are moving onto the Conference Championship.

Many analysts picked the other team to win this round. They said the bye would hurt us and we’d be too well-rested and Pittsburgh had much more momentum going into this game.

They were wrong.

We won tonight by ten.

“Who do you think you’ll play next week?” Annie asks as she’s spooning me in bed.

We played on Saturday night this week, and we have to wait until tomorrow’s game to see who we will face.

“Not sure, it’s a toss-up really,” I reply, realizing I’m coming across as more politically correct than anything. I know I can share anything with Annie now, and it’s a safe place.

“I think both teams would give us a hard time next week,” I expand on my thought process a little more. “But we lost to Houston in the regular season, so I’m more nervous about that match up,” I admit to Annie.

“Yeah, I can see that.” After a few minutes, Annie asks, “Will your family be at this game?”

My sister Scarlett was at the game today and will be at the next, since she’s local and it’s easy. Olivia flew in for this one, but she also had a three-day weekend and could make it work. She won’t be able to make the Conference Championship game next week.

“My mom and Scarlett will be there,” I tell her. “Are you going to bring your brothers?”

“Maybe,” she says with a shrug. All her brothers, and her parents too, were at the game tonight. According to Annie, they behaved themselves, moderately. “If you can get the tickets,” she tacks on.

“I’ll see what I can do. It’ll be a little harder to get tickets for this next round, but I can probably make it happen.” It’s fairly easy to get tickets as a player, but the further we go in the playoffs, the harder it is to get tickets, especially that last game of the year.

“Thank you.” She kisses me on the cheek. “I’ll tell them maybe, but that they’re on their own after that.”

We haven’t talked about “that game” yet—the big game that comes after the Conference Championship game.

If we win the AFC next week, we will travel to my home state for the ultimate game.

I’m thrilled about it, but at the same time…

I’m not. Don’t get me wrong, I’m really excited about the game itself, but some of the logistics make me nervous.

“Definitely. Super Bowl tickets are a nightmare.” Fine, I said the word out loud. I know other guys are thinking and talking about it, too.

I’ve also been to the Super Bowl before, twice, and have experience getting and buying tickets. We have the opportunity to buy two tickets as a player, and in the past I didn’t need as many. However, I have a bigger cheering section now. I’ll have to see what I can do.

I know my mom will definitely want to go, and probably Olivia. I’m not sure if any of my extended family in the Bay Area will want to attend, probably. I know Scarlett will definitely not go, which is expected. If it was anywhere other than Cali, she would be there in a heartbeat.

“I bet. We can cross that bridge when we get there,” she says, probably not wanting to jinx anything as well. “I know your family must be excited that the game is in California.”

I let out a big breath. We are currently spooning, again. She’s the big spoon naturally, so she doesn’t see my face; knowing this makes it slightly easier to share my confession.

“Not Scarlett.” There, I said it.

She sits up slightly, and I roll in her direction to face her.

“Why’s that?” she asks quietly.

“She hasn’t been back to California…since…” I stumble. “Since she left.”

“Did she hate it there?” There’s no judgment in her voice, only sincerity.

A short laugh bubbles out. “That’s putting it mildly.”

I move my position to get more comfortable, and Annie does the same. We might be here for a minute.

I wasn’t sure if I was going to confide in Annie about this because it’s not her burden. However, for some reason, I want to. I want her to know everything about me, even if some things I’m about to say are hard.

“I haven’t always been the best brother,” I admit. Annie grabs my hand and keeps it there, intertwining our fingers.

“When Scarlett turned eighteen, she started dating a coworker of hers, Joel.”

“Did you like him?”

“I didn’t really know him that well. I think I met him once before they eloped in Vegas on a random Monday. He seemed like a nice enough dude, older, though.”

“How much older?”

“Twenty-six I think, so not that much older, but she had just turned twenty at that point, so the six-year difference was large at the time.”

“I see,” is all Annie says as a reply.

“At first, everything was good. She seemed content and happy. But then the guy got a promotion at work, and they moved over an hour away to San Francisco. She slowly started distancing herself from us until we barely heard from her at all.”

I take another deep breath. I hate talking about this stuff.

“You don’t have to tell me if it’s too hard,” Annie says in a soft whisper.

“No,” I say firmly. “You should know how I failed my sister, and why going back home is hard for her.”

“Hey, no!” she says, sitting up straight. “You did not fail your sister. Why would you say that?”

“I did,” I say, while sitting up to match her position.

“How old were you when this happened? Sixteen?” she guesses.

“Yeah, I was sixteen, I think, when they got married, but I was older when it got worse. And it got way worse.” I don’t even want to get into the details, but Annie is an intelligent woman.

I think she can figure out the rest, especially since our foundation focuses on women in need as well as victims of domestic violence.

“How old were you when she left California?”

“Twenty-six.” I hang my head after I answer.

Annie comes close, places her hand on my chin, and gently lifts it up higher so it reaches her eyes. “Look at me. It is not your fault. You are not responsible for his actions. What happened when she finally reached out for help?”

“I was there,” I say begrudgingly.

“That’s right. You. Were. There.” She says those last three words slowly but fiercely to get her point across. “You were there,” she repeats herself.

“I wasn’t there, though, for ten years.”

“You were sixteen, and then you were in college,” Annie tries to point out.

“Yes, but then I was an adult,” I admit. I should have seen the signs. I should have known.

“Where was your mom in all this?”

“I don’t know,” I say with uncertainty. “She was trying to connect with her. I’m not sure she knew. Scarlett did a good job at hiding her scars around us.”

She’s holding my hands, and I can’t help but feel like she’s lifting me up .

“I couldn’t protect her…” I say, barely above a whisper. That was my true offense. My sister needed me, and I couldn’t protect her. I get paid millions of dollars every year to protect the quarterback, but I couldn’t protect my own sister.

How terrible of a brother am I?

Annie has me in a deep hug now, and I feel so safe in her arms. It should be the opposite. I should be protecting her from me, but she’s supporting me and loving me.

“You are the best person I know. You were there when it mattered the most. You are a great brother, a great person, and a great protector on the field and off. I hope you know that, and I hope you know how much everyone loves you,” Annie says to me with strength and power in her voice. It’s clear she believes what she says.

Maybe I should start believing it too.