I don’t know if I’mallowedto be worried.
We might have different takes on how to do our jobs, but it generally involves being around during gameplay, and he’s not here.
When the Titans run back onto the field to start the second half, I make a bold choice and head for Dallas at the fifty-yard line.
“Hey, Avery,” he says as I approach him.“What’s up?”
“Have you seen Reid?” I ask.
He glances around. “Now that you mention it, I haven’t seen him since warm-ups. He said he needed to answer a call, but he never came back.”
“Okay. Thanks. Forget I asked.”
“He might be in the sensory room. He goes up there sometimes,” Dallas says.
“Do you think—” I snap my mouth closed and gnaw on my bottom lip. “How much would he hate me if I went up there and looked for him? Probably not any more than he hates me right now, right?”
His smile turns softer. “Take the elevators to the fifth floor. Make a left, then you’ll see the door marked on your right.”
“Cool. Thanks. Have a good second half,” I say.
I follow Dallas’s instructions, tapping my foot the whole elevator ride up. When the doors open and I stand in the empty hallway, I wonder if I’m making a huge mistake. This is something a friend would do, and we arenotfriends.
There’s a voice in my head telling me to check on him, though.
Encouraging me to put one foot in front of the other and move forward until I’m knocking and waiting for him to answer.
“Come in,” says a muffled voice.
I open the door and find Reid inside. He’s sitting on a bench, his shoulders curled inward and head hanging low. His hair is messy, and there’s a hint of sunburn on the back of his neck.
“Hi,” I say. His spine straightens and he turns to look at me. Eyes a little glazed over, he blinks like he’s slow to catch up with who I am and where he is. “Is it okay if I’m here?”
Reid looks back at the wall with a single nod. “Sure.”
I step all the way into the room and take the bench opposite him. The last thing I want to do is crowd his space, to make him feel like I’m here to save the day. I smooth my palms over my leggings and cross my feet at the ankles.
“Are you okay?” I ask after a beat of silence.
“I’m fine.”
I nod even though he’s still staring at the wall, not at me. “Okay.”
He sighs, heavy and resigned. “My dad called before kickoff. I shouldn’t have answered—I don’t normally answer. But my parents are getting older, and I’m afraid if I don’t pick up…” He trails off, his eyes shuttering closed. “I hate the guy, but I try my best not to be a total dick.”
“I understand,” I say, and he cuts his gaze my way.
“You do?”
“Yeah.” I fix my ponytail to give my hands something to do. “My dad had cancer. He went in for a routine physicaland walked out with a stage four colon cancer diagnosis. He fought hard for a few months, but I missed the call that told me he passed because I was busy with work. I’ve never forgiven myself.”
Reid’s eyes hold mine. “How long?—”
“Four years ago. A few months before I took my job with the Thunderhawks, actually.”
“I’m still so sorry. I’m going to sound like an asshole complaining about my dad when yours?—”
“Just because our experiences are different doesn’t mean yours is less important.”
