“Nothing I can’t handle.” Yes, I was a master at deflection.
Silas narrowed his eyes suspiciously as if he didn’t quite believe me yet wasn’t sure he should prod. “Hmm. Do you have to go soon?”
“I have about half an hour.” I guided him south, pointing out interesting birds and rock formations, and gave a minor history lesson about early settlers who’d been trappers and hunters.
“So this place is like three hundred years old?”
“Older. Native Americans lived here for thousands of years before westerners arrived. The Four Forest area wasn’t as desirable, though. This is remote, rocky terrain. In the old days, it would have been a pain in the ass to traverse the winding path to the flatter land. Actually…it’s still a pain in the ass.”
Silas chuckled lightly. “But you love it.”
“I do.”
He stopped in the middle of the path and inhaled deeply. “I don’t blame you.”
I nudged his elbow playfully. “Feeling better this morning?”
“Yes,” he replied emphatically. “Fuck, yes. I haven’t slept that well in ages.”
“Me either.”
“When do you have your kids?”
“They’ll be here tomorrow for a week. And I should warn you that if they see that red Jeep out front, they’ll be curious about you. Would you be okay to meet them?”
Silas seemed genuinely surprised by the question. And pleased. “Definitely.”
“Good. Full disclosure: They know a football player came to town recently. I didn’t give any details, obviously, but people in small towns talk and as I mentioned, football is a big deal here. You’re a star.”
“Right.” His smile was a little forced and tinged with a melancholy that had followed him east. The sadness was incongruous with new opportunity.
“What’s the matter? Are you rethinking Boston?”
“No.” He fussed with his hat, pulling it lower over his ears. “I gave my agent a green light. I don’t have a contract yet, but it’s in the works.”
“Congratulations. You’ll have to get your own Red Sox hat.”
Silas pursed his lips and scoffed. “As if.”
“Hey.” I tipped his chin toward me. “What is it?”
He shook his head and grumbled, “Nothing but a clusterfuck of first-world problems. Trust me, you’re better off not knowing. Besides, I like living in a bubble where you actually like me.”
“Wow. I missed your theatric side,” I singsonged. “C’mon on. Tell me all about your clusterfuck problems. You’ll have to hurry up, though. You have ten minutes to make me hate you.”
Silas twisted his lips in what was probably meant to be a fierce sneer, but his twinkling eyes ruined the badass effect. “Fine. My un-retirement is a publicity stunt. It feels sleazy, but according to my agent…it’s a necessary one unless I’m okay with sliding into obscurity or coaching high school football in the middle of nowhere, USA.”
“Uh…”
“My ex-wife is dating a big movie star,” he blurted.
“I think I heard something about that. Is that a problem for you? Are you…jealous?”
He huffed a laugh. “God, no. Alli and I are buddies, and I want her to be happy. But Liam Sutcliffe is extremely famous and I’m famous-adjacent, which puts me in this weird place where I’m judged for existing and not for what I do or have done in the past.”
“So your agent suggested that you get back on the field to avoid the has-been label,” I supplied.
“Ger says it’s a win-win for everyone. Boston, football fans, me…him.” Silas snorted. “The truth is that we’re all riding this wave of someone else’s celebrity that has nothing to do with football. The guy plays a superhero. Like, what the fuck?”
