“The girl,” he says, standing up. “I heard about what happened at that wedding. There are a lot of stories going around. Why don’t you tell me about it?”
We start walking again, and his words echo back inside my head. I lost sight of that, and I think I made you lose sight of it too. “I pushed her away. I told myself it was to protect her, but I wound up doing the one thing she was most afraid of. I ran her over. Made the decision for her instead of letting her in, letting us figure it out together.”
Dad winces as we round a corner. “So what’d she do?”
“She…uh.” I run a hand over the back of my neck. “She told me I was just like you. Said I was a charmer who makes people love them and then leaves them to pick up the pieces.”
“That’s fair,” he says. “That’s exactly what I taught you to do. To protect yourself. To charm people so you can keep your walls up. So you don’t get hurt.” We stop at the entrance. Dad picks up his bag from where he’d left it. “So you hold all the control.”
He stops outside the facility. Turns to face me again.
“Do you love her?”
I nod. Can’t trust my voice.
“Then stop protecting her from yourself. Stop performing. Stop trying to be perfect.” He smiles. “Stop thinking you have to earn love. Stop controlling everything because you’re afraid of being hurt. You’re already loved. By God. By me. By that girl who’s probably sitting at home right now thinking you don’t want her. I think it’s time you go win her back. Now, come on. Don’t you have a game tonight?”
I check my phone. 11:23 a.m. Game starts at seven.
“Yeah. But I was going to help you get settled at home?—”
“Absolutely not.” He grabs his duffel. “You’re going to that game. And you’re going to play like you used to play—not because you’re trying to be perfect or impress anyone or prove something. But because you love it. Because it’s who you are. Because it’s a gift God gave you, and you’re going to use it.”
“Dad—”
“I’m not asking, Brody. I’m telling you. Go to the game. Play your heart out. And after”—he claps a hand on my shoulder—“you find that girl, and you tell her the truth. That you love her. That you’re sorry. That you’re done running.”
“What about you?”
“I’m going to an AA meeting. Already looked up the schedule—there’s one at two o’clock at the church down the street from the house. I’ve got a ride coming. I’ll be fine.” He tosses his duffel over his shoulder and starts walking back toward the facility. “I’m proud of you, son. Your mom would be too.”
The doors shut behind him, leaving me to process…a lot of things.
My phone is still in my hand.
I open it. Pull up Chloe’s contact.
My thumb hovers over the Call button.
Then I put the phone away.
I’m not texting her.
I’m not calling her.
I’m going to play the best game of my life.
And then I’m going to find her.
The game goes sideways in the first period.
Two penalties. One offside. Coach Jacobsen benches me halfway through.
I sit there, watching through the plexiglass, replaying every conversation with my dad. Every word about dreams and control and being human.
Stop protecting her from yourself. Stop performing.
The problem is, I don’t know who I am when I’m not performing.
