But it wasn’t possible.
We had to keep going.
At least, that’s what I told myself every time I wanted to throw up my hands and give in.
I’m not sure Paisley will ever forgive me for forcing her to move halfway across the country, but I made sure to put multiple boxes into storage, anything I thought she might want from Mom and Dad when she was older. I brought along a couple of old photo albums and some of Dad’s button-downs and Mom’s T-shirts. Malcolm mentioned I could have them made into pillows or quilts or something, which I suppose is better than what we have now.
Which is nothing.
Watching Paisley chat with Nadine, I blow out a breath, having missed everything Erik said for the last minute. He smacks my side. “You all right?”
I lift my shoulder in answer.
“You wanna watch some tape?” he asks, and when I glancetoward the girls, he waves. “They’re fine. Look at them. Two peas in a pod.”
So I stand and fetch my wallet to dig out my credit card, handing it over to Paisley. “Order something for dinner,” I sign. “Whatever you want. Erik and I are going to the media room. Let us know when the food gets here.”
Then we head down the hall to the room with eight recliners and a wall-to-wall screen. The coaching teams had emailed everybody game tape from the previous season, plays that went well or didn’t, but I didn’t even open mine. Erik, of course, studies a lot more film than me, more than anyone on the team, and he always has a link ready. So he sets it up while I power on the projector before we sink into the chairs, and I lose myself in the only thing I excel at.
The one thing I treated as replaceable.
I have a lot of groveling to do this season, and even though I know it won’t be comfortable to face my teammates or coaching staff again, I have to. I need to prove I’m not the careless jackass they think I am. The world can say whatever it wants, but knowing I let down my team is what hurts the most.
So I’ll take every minute I can get, earning back their trust, starting with Erik. Because he might be my best friend, but he’s also my QB. I let him down most of all. Only days after we—I—lost the championship, Kai was born, and we never talked about what happened. Swept it under the rug instead.
So we spend the next hour discussing plays and strategy until Nadine pops her head around the door, informing us the food has arrived. By the time we make it out to the dining room, she has all the burgers and fries from Shake Shack laid out on the table. She hands a milkshake to Erik, telling him, “It’s chocolate.”
He nods his thanks and immediately sits down to start eating. Meanwhile, I notice Paisley’s got a big vanilla shake in her hand, and Nadine has what appears to be cookies and cream.
“Where’s my shake?” I ask verbally, not bothering to sign.
Nadine purses her lips around the straw, sucking some of her milkshake down for five full seconds of torture before saying, “Must’ve forgotten to order you one.”
She offers me a fake smile as her brother chides her softly, but she’s not getting off that easy.
Nah.
As she slides into her seat, I intercept her shake, pop the top, and down almost the whole thing before she can argue. It goes down like a brick and I have brain freeze, but watching her jaw hang open is all worth it.
I grin and give her back the little bit that’s left. “Delicious.”
“You are?—”
“Kids,” Erik chides, eyes ping-ponging between us. “Let’s remember why we’re all here.”
I slant my gaze to my sister, munching away on her burger and fries, and I deflate. With one last scowl in Nadine’s direction, I sit next to Paisley and help myself to grabbing two cheeseburgers, then sign, “I’m glad you’re eating.”
She huffs. “Because I’m tired of your chicken, broccoli, and rice.”
I’m naturally lean, and I have to work to keep on enough muscle for my position so I’m not thrown around like a rag doll by three-hundred-pound defensemen. It’s all protein, protein, protein, and I never thought about asking my chef to make me anything different from what he usually does, merely to double it. But I make a mental note to talk to him about making some things Paisley will like.
Erik pretty much carries the conversation since Nadine is completely incapable of having one with me that doesn’t involve sarcasm and insults, so he asks Paisley some questions about her hobbies—watching movies—and her favorite subjects in school—art and social studies.
After Nadine breaks into the conversation by assuring my sister that she’d enjoy the art scene in the city, I tell Paisley, “Iasked Nadine to come over today because I was hoping she would be your nanny.”
Paisley rears back, frowning while she signs, “I don’t need a nanny.”
Nadine agrees. “She doesn’t need a nanny.”
