Page 32

PROMISE ME

XANDER

August

“Hey,” I say as I head straight for my dad, who’s propped up in bed, eyes closed. The rich voice of an audiobook narrator fills the room. I can only guess it’s another Dickens novel. He has listened to them all at least once.

He grunts in greeting as I sit beside him.

He looks thinner than he did even a week ago. He barely eats—just a snack here and there, driving Mom up the wall. She’s a paler version of herself too. Another side effect of his sickness.

“How are you?” I ask.

He has no desire to put up a fight, and every day he reminds me more and more of a withered garden on the brink of winter. It’s devastating to watch him disappear like this, especially for the little boy within me who thought his dad was the strongest, smartest person in the world.

“Good. I’m good. Nothing has changed.” He opens his eyes, finally peering at me.

The doctors say his vision won’t return. Silhouettes and shadows are the only things he sees.

“How have you been?” he asks. “Ready for the first preseason game?”

He’s always been my biggest fan, happy to listen to me simultaneously brag and complain. Thankfully, that hasn’t changed. If anything, he’s even more invested in what I have to say. It’s like as long as we’re talking about football, he reverts to his old self.

Clearing my throat, I shift so I’m sitting against the headboard at his side. “I have a good feeling about it. We’re all vibing at practice, and the guys are motivated. They want to win just as much as I do.”

It feels good to smile like this. These days, my smiles are rare, and I can’t remember the last time I really laughed. I’ve gotten good at faking it.

Some days it’s easier; other days it’s a nightmare.

“Feeling confident, are you?” With a laugh, Dad pats my hand. It takes him a second to find it, and he fumbles a bit, but he does it.

I suck in air, suddenly forgetting how to breathe. I miss spending time with him the way we used to, so damn much. Our interactions have always been easy, whether we were shooting the shit or strategizing about my career. I miss us, father and son, nothing else.

“Well.” I clear my throat again, trying to affect a normal tone.

He hates when we pity him.

“Maybe a bit, but with good reason. These days, I have plenty of free time to devote to football. And it’s paying off.”

“You’ve always been hardworking.” Dad frowns. “What’s the difference now?”

“I’ve been coming up with some new plays, and Coach seems interested. We may never use them, but it still feels good to know I’m contributing to the team.”

He chuckles. “That’s my boy. Taking initiative. I’m proud of you, Alex.”

“Thanks, Dad.” The instant lightness in my limbs that accompanies his genuine affection makes it easier to breathe.

I want to drink in this moment, bottle it up so I can remember it on days when things aren’t going well, so I continue talking.

I’ll do anything to encourage my dad to be more present.

“Coach put me in charge for a little while today. It was simple, but it still felt good to be respected as a leader.”

“Interesting.” A smirk pulls up his lips. “How did your wide receiver handle taking instruction from you?”

“He wasn’t thrilled.” I huff a laugh. Miller was pissed when Coach told the team I’d be in charge of drills. “But he behaved, so I can’t really complain. He wants to win too.”

“Have you thought about what you’re going to do after you retire?”

“No.” I shrug. “I’ve got time. I’m at the top of my game. I’m honestly thinking more about the end of my contract. It’s up after this season, and so far no one’s said a word to me or my agent.”

“I can’t imagine the Warriors won’t want to keep you; you have nothing to worry about.

But I do think it’s time to put more thought into your future.

Don’t wait until retirement is looming.” He pats my hand again.

“You’ve always enjoyed coming up with game plans and strategies. Have you ever considered coaching?”

I bite the inside of my cheek to suppress my smile. “Yeah, I can’t say the idea hasn’t crossed my mind.”

Dad drops his hand to the mattress and drags it along the bedding until he finds his phone. A moment later, the sounds of the audiobook disappear, plunging the room into silence. “What else is going on? I can feel your excitement, and it’s not just about the game.”

I sit a little straighter. “Marco told me Bella is coming home. She’ll be at the first game.”

“Oh.”

To say my parents were upset when they found out about my breakup with Bella would be an understatement. They loved her, and they were sad to lose her, but their top concern was how the fallout affected my well-being.

“Are you still in love with her?”

“Yes. I love her even more than I did a year ago, if that’s possible. She’s my girl, Dad. She will always be my girl.”

“But she’s moved on, hasn’t she? Audrey told your mom about Isabella’s new boyfriend.”

“Maybe.” My voice cracks. “I don’t know for sure.”

“Do you think she’d be interested in having you in her life again?”

“Probably not.” I fold my arms across my chest. “All I know is, she’ll be home for a while before her internship. I can’t let the opportunity to talk to her pass by.”

“You think her new boyfriend will be okay with that?” Dad speaks softly, as if I’m a child ready to throw a tantrum.

“Doubt it.” I take a deep breath to calm myself.

My father nods, clasping his hands. “I won’t tell you to leave her alone.

You’re stubborn, and you’ve put a lot of effort into yourself this year.

” His voice sounds more powerful now, reminiscent of the way he used to speak.

“But promise me one thing: If she’s happy, you’ll take a step back. You’ll let her go.”

“Dad.”

He can’t possibly expect me to agree to that. Why would I before I’ve even had a chance to talk to her? It’s a defeatist attitude from the get-go, and that’s not who I am.

“Promise me, Alexander,” Dad insists. “If she says?—”

“I can’t promise that.” I stand abruptly and back away from the bed.

Suddenly, the air is too thick. I need to get out of this room, out of this house.

“Alex.” Dad dips his chin to his chest, his lips pressed tightly together. He’s disappointed in me, I know, but…I don’t care.

“I need to get going.”

Anger rushes through me, ready to spill over. I didn’t come here to be lectured about my life, to be told what I should and shouldn’t do.

“Bye, Dad.” I turn on my heel and dash down the stairs, hoping to sneak away without seeing Mom. I’d rather not have to explain why I’m so pissed off.

I guess today isn’t my day.

“Alex? Where are you going?”

Instantly, my hackles rise.

That voice . Fuck. When did she get here?

Jaw clenched, I turn and lock eyes with Audrey.

She stands in the doorway of the living room, my nephew, Mason, propped on her hip.

Her brow is knitted and her lips pursed.

I haven’t seen her in weeks; I avoid her any chance I get.

Yet fate has decided I should face her when I’m already on edge. Fucking perfect.

“Home,” I hiss through my teeth.

“Why? Mom said you just got here.”

“Something came up.”

“Really? Or are you leaving because I’m here?” She lifts her chin, her eyes narrowed.

When Bella broke up with me, Audrey turned into a whiny child, begging me for forgiveness. When she didn’t get it, she became aggressive, snapping at me any time she saw me. Apparently, this new stage includes putting the blame on me.

I’m so fucking tired of her behavior.

“That too.”

“Unbelievable,” she barks.

Mason flinches at her sharp tone, then bursts into tears.

“Audrey?” Mom appears, frowning in concern. “What’s going on?”

I do my best not to glower at Audrey. I don’t want Mason to think my anger is directed at him. It’s a challenge. “I was on my way out when your daughter decided to talk to me.”

“She’s your sister .” Mom’s expression hardens. “I made myself clear last time. You two need to get along! I have enough on my plate already. I don’t have time to play peacemaker anymore.”

“I said I’m sorry a thousand times! I even apologized for things I didn’t do!” Audrey stomps her foot, making Mason cry louder.

She’s ridiculous. None of her so-called apologies came with even a shred of remorse, and these attempts to pin the blame anywhere but on herself are pathetic.

Just admit you were wrong and leave me alone . That’s all I want. But no, she continues to hound me, like she needs me to tell her I’m not angry with her anymore, that I forgive her.

But that’d be a lie. So, the gates of hell have broken open, and Audrey has become the biggest pain in the ass.

“And I said I don’t need your apologies,” I say to my sister, keeping my tone low. “They don’t mean shit.”

I don’t feel even an ounce of pity for her.

The warmth, the trust, the love I felt for my sister—it’s all gone.

Her meddling and manipulation wrecked our sibling bond, severed it completely.

She couldn’t handle that I’d grown up, that I wasn’t seeking her advice anymore, and she took her unhappiness out on Bella.

She blamed my girlfriend for making her feel like an outsider in my life, when in reality it was all in her head.

For me, she was still one of the most important people, even if her role had shifted a little, but she didn’t want to accept it.

If I ever find it in myself to forgive Audrey, I’ll never forget what she put Bella through. That scar is forever stamped onto my relationship with her.

But when I register my mom’s pained expression, the tiniest bit of regret threads through me. She’s miserable. Her kids are at each other’s throats, and, like she said, she’s dealing with enough when it comes to my dad.

“I’m going home.” I peck her cheek then head to the door. “It’s for the best.”

As I grab the doorknob, Audrey says, “She’s back.”

I tense.

“Isabella is back.”

Shivers run down my spine, making my insides churn. I’m frozen, unable to turn around.

She’s back already?

“How do you know that?” Mom asks behind me.

“Jess. She posted a photo of the two of them this morning. Apparently, my best friend has secretly become friends with her .” Her words are dripping with contempt, which only proves that she doesn’t deserve my forgiveness.

“Alex,” Mom says, “did you know about this?”

“About what?” I grit out, wishing I’d blown right past Audrey the second I made it down the stairs.

“About Isabella’s return?”

Heaving a sigh, I finally turn and meet my mom’s gaze. “Yes. I knew she was coming back.”

“Are you planning to see her?” Audrey’s high-pitched voice grates on my nerves. I lock eyes with her.

“I hope to see her.”

That defiant look is back. “She has a boyfriend.”

It takes everything in me to keep from lashing out. “I just want to talk to her.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Mom asks, her voice gentle.

“Yes.” Without waiting for a response, I open the door and walk out of the house.