“Hey there, champ!” Dad said, patting me on the shoulder pads. “Great game! Incredible. I think that’s one for the record books, isn’t it, Frank?”
Coach Kimball laughed and nodded. “Yes, sir. Come on over here, River. I’d like you to meet these gentlemen.”
Dutifully, I shook hands with the scouts and endured their complimentary review of the game. The three of them took turns talking up their schools, ribbing each other good-naturedly, while Dad and Coach looked on, wearing identical proud expressions.
“We think you’ve got something special, River,” the guy from Auburn said. “Must’ve gotten it from your dad, eh? Weren’t you pro,Mr. Whitmore?”
I winced.
“Almost,” Dad said with a frozen smile. “There was talk of a great draft prospect, but then an entire defensive line landed on my knee.”
“It’s a damn shame,” said Coach. “But River here is going to carry on his legacy. Isn’t that right, son?”
I nodded, feeling all eyes on me. Feeling the weight of the word—legacy—adding to the weight pressing between my shoulder blades. “I’ll do my best.”
“And then some,” Dad said. “River has more talent in his right hand than I did in my entire body.”
“Dad…”
“It’s true! They all saw it, didn’t you?”
This sent the scouts into another round of compliments that made my skin itch. Finally, the meeting broke up, and they left to chat with Coach privately.
Dad turned to me. “How about that? Pick of the litter.”
“Yeah, great. Amelia didn’t come?”
His expression tightened. “She said she wasn’t feeling up to it. I didn’t want to push her.”
Or she might break. Because we’re already falling apart.
“You and Donte are both hot commodities,” Dad said, steering us to brighter topics. “Wouldn’t it be something if you and he attended the same college? Keep that magic going?”
“He doesn’t need me to be a great receiver.”
“Of course he doesn’t. And your talent doesn’t need propping up either. I just thought that since—”
“I gotta go, Dad,” I said. “I’m already running late, and they’re going to leave for the dinner soon.”
“Oh sure, sure. I’m proud of you, River. You were…” He shook his head, glancing down for a moment. “Well, you were something special today. Everyone could see it. I wish your mom could have too.”
I swallowed a jagged lump in my throat. “Tell her all about it for me.”
“Will do.”
He patted my cheek and walked toward the parking lot. Head bowed, hands in his pockets. Alone.
***
The dinner at a local sports bar and restaurant could not end fast enough—the guys ate their weight in fries, hamburgers, and buffalo wings, talking shit and generally making asses of themselves, still high on the victory.
At home, I stopped in Mom’s room to say hi. I peeked in, but she was sleeping.
She was always sleeping these days.
I was twenty minutes late to meet Violet, but I smelled like grease and barbecue sauce. I took another quick shower in the bathroom down the hall, then wrapped a towel around my waist and hurried back to my room.
My tuxedo’s garment bag hung on a hook on the back of my door. I tore it down and tossed it on my bed, then fell back against the closet with a strangled gasp, nearly losing hold of my towel.
