Page 133 of Running
“And I feel like I’ve missed so much of your track career,” he says wistfully. “All those huge moments you just mentioned from your college days, I didn’t make it to a single one. A single fucking one. I feel like such a shitty brother. No wonder you didn’t come to me when you heard that coach speaking that crap.”
“It’s alright.” I keep my hand on his.
“It’s really not.” He looks angry again, but this time at himself. “I want to start coming though, whenever I can, for your road races. Like Rawley did this summer.”
We all go quiet as the weight of the moment sinks in on us all, and then I turn to Landon, thinking maybe he’s ready to be reasonable about theothertopic at hand. “I’m really sorry that I didn’t tell you about what was happening with Johnson.”
His reaction is not what I hoped. A grey cloud comes back over his face, and fury rises in his eyes.
“Look, about Johnson—I’m fucking livid with him. I’m not down with this shit at all.”
“Landon—”
He doesn’t stop though, turning to me. “Grace, he’s not a commitment guy, and he lied to me about you. Period.”
“But he did it?—"
Landon runs his hands through his hair. “Don’t try to make excuses for him. I don’t even know if I can forgive him for the good of the team.” His voice is filled with anger more than regret.
I fall silent. He’s too emotional to listen right now.
“You’re my sister. Different ballgame.”
Rawley and Connor look like they don’t know how to react to the turn in discussion.
“Maybe we can talk more about it in a day or two,” I say, trying to smooth the tension over.
“I don’t want to hear a peep from him right now,” Landon responds. “Injured or not.”
CHAPTER 42
Johnson
It’s been three days since I was discharged from the hospital, and I’m finally starting to feel the fog from my concussion clear. Luckily the worst of the headache-like pain stopped yesterday too—my head still aches, but the sharp pain is gone.
However, I’m nowhere near ready to play football, as much as I’d like to. And now there’s only two days until the next game. I’m going to miss it.
Shit.I’m so pissed off when I think about it.
But I have to try to keep myself relaxed. During my check-up today, the doctor said elevating my blood pressure could slow down my recovery.
Still, I want to show up for my guys in whatever way I can. And when I ask, the doctor reluctantly gives me permission to visit the locker room for an hour tomorrow as long as I take it easy.
The next day, when I get to the facility, I comply with his instructions. One of the trainers escorts me around, in case I start feeling dizzy or foggy.
“Let’s keep you to the position rooms,” he says, referencing the smaller meeting rooms dedicated to each role. “The locker room might feel like too much stimuli.”
I nod, and we begin by stopping by the quarterback room.
“Hey, man,” my back-up, Tony, says as soon as I walk in. “Great to see you up and around.”
I pull a smile across my face. “Appreciate you guys holding it down until I’m back. I know you got that win handled tomorrow.”
He stands up and shakes my hand. “We do. You take care of yourself right now.”
We chat a short bit longer and then I excuse myself so I can stop by the wide receiver and offensive line rooms. There’s a festive environment in the latter, as it’s Halloween and someone decorated the room in orange and black.
The hour goes quick, and the guys seem genuinely relieved to see me.
