Now, it’s been a week and we haven’t talked. I called her brother to make sure she was doing okay, and he told me she was struggling, but that it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle. The thought of her going through this vandalizing thing on her own has been fucking eating at me. Chomped at open wounds and made me wish things were different. I want to be there for her.
Blair missed Sunday’s game. Coach called it “strategic rest,” but I know the real reason. She needs space. Space from me. Space probably from the sport that brought the damage to Embers and Ashes. Without a kicker, we tested our ability to go for two after every touchdown, and it’s clear we’re still not strong in that area.
Apparently, Oscar is maintaining his innocence but no one is buying it, especially not Benny. Shortly after Blair and I had our blow up fight, he came to my apartment and wanted to know everything I knew aboutOscar and Blair. Apparently, Coach Dylan gave him a heads up, and then the police paid him a visit.
The whistle cuts through the air and I’m slow to start the play. Our head coach sees it, because let’s face it, nothing gets by this man, and he yells, “Bishop! Get your head out of your ass or get the hell out of here.”
I nod in understanding as he tells us to take a quick break. I blow out a slow breath as I jog off the line. Zack jogs up beside me, flipping a ball in the air. “What’s your deal today? I don’t ever remember you being this horrible…” he presses.
I grunt. “Just tired.”
“Bullshit.”
Glancing at him, I want to push back, but he’s not wrong. I don’t have the energy to wear a mask. We walk off the field together, cleats crunching on the practice turf. I sit on the nearest bench like I’m suddenly carrying twice my weight.
There’s a pit in my stomach I haven’t been able to shake. It’s not just the space between me and Blair—it’s the secret I’ve been carrying around like a damn anchor.
“I should’ve told her,” I admit quietly.
Zack sits beside me. “Told who what?”
“Blair,” I say, running a hand over my face. “About the house.”
He frowns. “What house? Icy Tyson, you’re not making any sense.”
Slowly, I take in as much air as my lungs can hold. I know I’m about to come clean on everything. I can’t keep this to myself. “The one I’m going to build in Michigan. By the lake.” I stare straight ahead. “I wanted to start breaking ground in the off-season, even if I didn’t make it my full time address for years. I thought I was doing something smart. Something long term.”
He lets out a low whistle. “Damn. First things first, that’s serious. And second,pleasetell me you and Blair are a thing, because I’ve got a bet goingwith Emilie that I’d very much like to win.” Zack rubs his hands together like he’s just cracked the code.
I don’t answer him but I give him a look, one that he reads like a book. He claps his hands, and cheers to himself.
“She came over to my place after everything happened at Embers and Ashes and saw the plans sitting out.”
His face, mostly playful, drops at that last confession. “Well, shit.”
I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees and spill my guts. I tell him everything. Zack listens intently, asking questions as I go through it. When I’m done, he lets out a low whistle and it just reiterates how I screwed up.
“I was going to tell her. She just saw them before I could do that. The timing was off. She’s building something amazing here in New York with her gym, her career. She’s finally getting the recognition she’s always deserved, and I didn’t want her to think I expected her to give that up. I thought if I just waited… maybe we’d figure it out together.”
Zack doesn’t say anything right away, which is rare for him. After a few seconds, he says, “Or maybe you were afraid she’d say your futures don’t line up.”
Fuck. That hits harder than it should.
He stresses, “Do they?”
“Honestly? Now that I have her, I can’t imagine anything being more important than that. I’d do anything for her.” I let my head fall in my hands.
“You mean it,” Zack says, almost a little surprised. He looks around, still just the two of us, and leans back. “Also, I fucking knew it.”
“She thinks I don’t believe in her dream,” I say. “Like I’ve got one foot out the door. And maybe I do—just not in the way she thinks. Like, she could tell me where we are going next and I’d make it work.”
“Damn, wish you would’ve just told her, huh?”
My look is as sharp as my words. “Obviously. If you have the ability to go back in time, let me know. I’d pay big bucks to do so,” I joke.
“I am a very talented individual, I know.” He dramatically puts a hand to his chest, “But, even I haven’t figured that out.”
I appreciate the crack in the heaviness of the conversation. We sit for a few seconds, taking in the practice space around us.
