published on December 22
LAS VEGAS, NV—Cash Curran’s relationship woes appear to be affecting his performance on the field.
The Pathfinders, favored by seven points, failed to pick up the win, losing 38–34 against the Raiders. Curran, in particular, was off his game, missing four touchdown throws in addition to throwing a game-losing pick in the final quarter of the game.
His mood was markedly melancholy after the game. “It sucks, yeah. We weren’t at our best. We weren’t cohesive. We gotta clean it up. We gotta do better next time.”
“It’s all you can do,” DeAndre Jones added. “We got two games left and then the playoffs to think about. Consistency is gonna be key for us going forward.”
When asked point blank if he believes his recent breakup with pop star Lyric Adair affected his gameplay, Curran took a moment to consider his answer before he replied. “I like to think I’m decent at compartmentalizing and leaving my baggage at the door and stepping onto the field with a clear head, but that’s not always the case. I play with my heart as much as I do with my head and unfortunately there’s no such thing as concussion protocol for the former.”
The Pathfinders are currently the second seed in the NFC West. Their next game will be on December 28, where they will face off against the San Francisco 49ers at home.
December 23
Poppy (12:23 p.m.):Mom, I wanted to let you know I won’t be coming over on Christmas Day. Frankly, I don’t think you really want me there, so I don’t think this will come as much of a disappointment. Maybe you’ll even be relieved.
Poppy (12:26 p.m.):I know I haven’t always made life easy for you and Dad, but you’re my parents. You’re supposed to love me anyway. And most of the time, it doesn’t feel like you do. It feels like the goalposts for me are different than for Jessica and Dillon; my goalposts are constantly moving. Nothing I do is ever good enough and I’m really tired of feeling that way.
Poppy (12:28 p.m.):Could you please let me know when is a good time for me to swing by and drop off everyone’s presents tomorrow?
Read at 12:35 p.m.
December 25
Poppy pumped her arms, weary legs pounding against the pavement. She summoned one final burst of energy and sprinted the last hundred-some yards down the street on aching feet.
“Good run?” Cash’s neighbor, Mrs. Eichen, stood on her porch in a bathrobe, holding the paper she’d fetched from the curb in one hand and her son’s lunch box in the other.
“Decent.” Poppy gave her ponytail a tug, tightening the elastic. “Offer still stands if you ever want to join.”
Mrs. Eichen waved her off. “I’m more of a Peloton girl, Poppy. But thanks for offering! Have a great day!”
“You too!”
After a quick cooldown in the driveway, Poppy headed inside, detouring to the kitchen for a bottle of water before limping downstairs to the gym to stretch. Somewhere around mile five, her right sock had slipped and now there was a gnarly blister on the back of her heel, the skin split open, raw and tender and starting to ooze. She was pretty sure Cash kept a first aid kit somewhere down here, otherwise—
“Oh. Hi.” She drew up short at the bottom of the basement stairs. “I didn’t know you were awake.”
Cash was sitting in the middle of the sectional tucked in the farthest corner of the gym in front of the mounted flatscreen he only ever used for watching game tape. And he’d started watching that on his iPad, which he could do anywhere. Poppy couldn’t remember the last time Cash had spent time down here outside of his regular daily workouts.
He barely looked away from the screen, offering her the briefest of nods, but even that was enough to tell he looked worse for wear. Unwashed hair unkempt and sticking up at all angles like he’d been running his fingers through it, purple bags beneath his bloodshot eyes, his jaw scruffy with a hell of a lot more than a mere five o’clock shadow. His shirt was wrinkled, the same one he’d been wearing yesterday.
“Hey.” He reached for the thermos at his feet and refilled the mug in his hands. “Good run?”
“Fine.” She kicked off her sneakers, wincing at the drag against the open skin of her heel. “Missed you, though. Thought you were going to join me.”
Cash grunted and Poppy followed his gaze to the flatscreen. Her stomach sank.
On the screen, that god-awful video of him kissing Ashley played on a never-ending loop.
“Cash.” She rested her hip against the arm of the couch and crossed her arms. “How long exactly have you been awake?”
“I don’t know.” He stared muzzily into his thermos. “What day is it?”
Jesus. “It’s Christmas, Cash.”
“Oh. Huh.” He seemed genuinely surprised to hear it. “I tried to sleep. Got an hour or two. I think?”
