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Chapter Fifty-Five

ROWAN

M y fingers drum against the steering wheel as I look up at the stadium. I’ve been parked in the lot for twenty minutes, but I haven’t made it out of the truck. I need to get in there to start getting ready for the game, but it all feels too daunting right now.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve never been the guy to get game-day jitters. It’s always been easy to compartmentalize so I can get out there and do my job on the field.

You know exactly what’s wrong, my brain screams at me, but I try not to listen. If I let myself think about the green-eyed girl who’s going to be on the sidelines today, then I’ll never make it through. The guys tried to help come up with ideas to get her back, but the best they could manage was sending someone to kidnap her again.

Even though their plans left a lot to be desired, they did help me realize one thing, I’m not fuckin’ done. If Ruth never wants to see me again, then fine, but I need her to hear me out. If nothing else, I don’t ever want her to feel like I didn’t think she was worth fighting for.

I’ll give her some space, wait until she’s had time to think, then I’m coming for her.

Right as my fingers hit the door handle, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I reach for it, fumbling as I try to get to it as fast as possible, same as I have been all week, just in case it’s her. My shoulders slump as I read the caller ID. Dad. I debate letting it go to voicemail, we haven’t spoken since we went to the game and Ruth tore him a new one, but I wonder if maybe telling him to fuck off will let out some of the tension I’m feeling.

“What?” I bark down the line.

“Hi.” His voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it, and nervous?

“Yeah, hi.”

“How are you?” He clears his throat, no clue what he’s doing. We don’t do this, make small talk or pleasantries. When he calls me, he’s got a reason, and that reason is usually him telling me some way I’m not measuring up.

“What do you want?” I figure it’s better to cut straight to the chase. I don’t have time to fuck around with these false niceties.

“Um.” I can hear him taking deep breaths. “To apologize, I guess?”

“You guess?”

“No, I do. I want to apologize.”

“That sounded like it was painful for you.” I give a bitter chuckle.

“Your mother told me what you said.”

I figured she would have.

“And? I’m supposed to believe that was your come to Jesus moment?”

“Kind of?” He half laughs. “It was certainly a wake-up call.”

“It was a long time coming.”

“I bet.”

There’s silence for a long moment, but I refuse to be the one to break it. I’m not letting him off the hook this time. He either needs to explain himself properly and actually offer an apology, or I’m done with him.

He finally continues, “I’ve always just wanted the best for you, but I can see now that I was wrong. I never wanted you to carry the same regrets I’ve been burdened with. I felt like I lost everything when I got injured, it was like my whole life vanished in a second, and to think that you were choosing to throw away the very thing that got stolen from me, well, it scared me.”

“You didn’t lose everything,” I bite out. “You have a great life. You have wife and a son who love you, you were just never able to see that.”

“I see it now.”

“I’m not throwing anything away. I’ve never wanted the things you do. I want to be a coach, I’m fuckin’ great at it and I’m chasing it with everything I’ve got. I got no plans to wake up ten years from now with regrets.”

“I think I’m starting to understand that, at least I’m trying to.”

“You’ve really hurt me, Dad, for a long time.”

“I know. I’m so sorry.”

“This isn’t gonna go away with one phone call. You gotta put in the work.”

“I know,” he says again. For the first time, I kind of believe him. He sounds so lost, like he’s just woken up from a dream.

“Well, okay then,” I nod, not sure how to respond. I feel like I’ve just run a marathon, my thoughts are going haywire as it sinks in that he’s finally admitted to being wrong. I’d thought I was just going to chew him out and hang up the phone, but hearing him apologize has kind of thrown me for a loop.

“You know,” he continues, “your mom might have given me hell but it was your girl that started it. She’s good for you. You should bring her round the house, maybe I can make a better second impression.”

Hearing him say that my mom finally stood up for me is almost enough to erase the piercing in my gut at the mention of Ruth. I shift in my seat, trying to lessen the tightening in my throat.

“She’s, uh, she’s not actually my girl anymore.”

“Oh,” he huffs, “well, that’s a real shame. She seemed nice.”

“She is, the best.”

“Was it not a good fit or did you fuck it up?”

“I fucked it up.”

He sighs, and it seems like he might be about to give me shit, but instead, he comes out with, “Don’t be like me, Rowan, don’t leave it too late. You said that you didn’t want to wake up in ten years with regrets. Well, even after a couple hours with you two, I could see that letting that girl go would be the biggest mistake of your life.”

I sniff against the threat of tears. He’s right, losing Ruth for good would ruin me. I’m just scared I’ve made too much of a mess to fix.

“Don’t let fear, or pride, or anger, or whatever it is that’s holding you back. Don’t let it get in the way of what you two had because, let me tell you, you won’t find it again. I had it with your mom, and I nearly destroyed it. I’m just a lucky bastard that she’s willing to give me another shot, but you can’t wait the way I did. I know I don’t deserve to ask for promises, but you gotta promise me that. Don’t wait.”

“I promise, Dad.”