“I was on a mission that day. I have personal goals which I need to meet for a better contract negotiation and honestly…I wanted to take McCall down a peg or two. I hit him fairly, and admittedly it was hard, but it’s a decision that changed everything. If I could have those first ten minutes of the game back, I’d do things very differently.”
Tears threaten to well up in my eyes as I continue telling my story. “I never meant to hurt him like that or destroy his career. Football has always been about pushing boundaries and playing hard, but I never wanted this.”
Katrina reaches out and places a comforting hand on my shoulder. Her touch is gentle but firm, grounding me in the present moment.
“Dak, it takes a lot of strength to admit your feelings and confront your actions. What you’re feeling is a sign that you have a conscience, that you care deeply about the impact you have on others.”
“I didn’t do it on purpose, but I can’t shake off the guilt, Katrina. It’s eating me alive.”
She pauses, giving me a moment to collect myself. “You’re not defined by that one accident. The true test lies in how you choose to move forward from here. How you handle the press. How you explain what happened to your daughter one day. It won’t be easy, but I believe in your ability to overcome this.”
Her words resonate within me, offering a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness that has consumed me. I take a deep breath and meet Katrina’s gaze, feeling a newfound determination welling up inside me.
“I hope I don’t regret telling you any of this,” I whisper, my voice pained.
“You never need to regret telling me your truth, Dak.” She smiles, a radiant warmth emanating from her. “You’re not alone in this. Together, we’ll work through it. Remember, healing takes time, but it’s worth it. And then you can go back to the game you love so much with a clear conscience.”
I look at Katrina, her eyes deep with understanding and empathy. They are beautiful, those eyes mirroring the warmth of her soul. There’s a vulnerable silence that falls between us, a pregnant pause that holds an unsaid conversation. I am starting to respect and admire Katrina for her intelligence, her patience, and her ability to understand me in a way no one else ever has. Before I know what I’m doing, I find myself leaning across the short distance that separates us.
“Katrina,” I murmur, a strange sort of desperation in my voice. She looks surprised but doesn’t pull away. Her breath hitches as I get closer, close enough to see the small moles, which look like freckles, scattered across her nose and the sides of her face.
“Dak?” she asks, her voice barely a whisper, the professional boundaries between us beginning to blur.
“I... I need to,” I stutter, my heart pounding in my chest. She waits, her gaze steady and unwavering. “I need to thank you,” I finally manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper. And then, mustering up a courage that seems far more daunting than facing a wall of offensive linemen, I gently close the remaining distance between us.
Our lips meet in a soft, sweet kiss that tastes faintly of mint and something more delicious…desire. It is a brief, hesitant exploration, not rushed, but intimate, a tangible confession of feelings that have begun to bloom. A connection, deeper than words, deeper than my shared trauma, forged in the hushed silence of this immense space under the sun.
Pulling back, our eyes meet, hers wide with surprise and something else, something akin to the emotions stirring within me. We don’t speak; words seem unnecessary, an intrusion even. A spark has been ignited, the feelings admitted, the connection sealed. The lines are now blurred, but in this moment, I realize we are no longer just an NFL player and his psychotherapist. We are Dak and Katrina, two individuals connected in the most unexpected yet profound way.
As we sit there on the grass, the weight on my shoulders begins to lift, and a glimmer of hope pierces through the darkness. In this quiet moment, I know that I’ve taken the first step towards getting back to normal and best of all, I’m doing it with a person I believe has my best interest at heart.
And a woman I want.
In my bed and beyond.
dak
“I’ve got a problem.”
I’m in the movie theater room of Cap’s house watching Fight Club for the millionth time over a few beers.
“Another one?”
“I’m serious, Cap.”
“Let me guess, it’s the pretty new therapist, ain’t it?”
“She took me to the stadium.”
“Our stadium? For what?”
“For therapy.”
“You lost me, bro’. What’s the problem?”
“She’s different, man. I don’t know if it’s some kind of immersion therapy she studied, but she believes in getting out of the office and taking clients to where they need to be to feel better or to confront their fears. It was really cool and was something that I didn’t even know I needed.”
“Cool, so you talked about your feelings at the stadium?”
