Hello Quarterback (Hello #8)

47. Ford

47

FORD

The screen door shut behind Mia, and we all flinched at the sound echoing through the house. Then it was so quiet, the sound of my racing heart was almost as loud as the things my brothers and dad weren’t saying.

That is until Bryce gritted his teeth. “Are you going after her?”

I gripped the sides of my chair tightly, shifting my weight. “No. I wouldn’t even if I could.”

Bryce gaped at me then turned to my dad and Fletcher. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

Fletcher didn’t quite meet his gaze. Dad’s frown deepened.

Bryce let out a huff, then left the three of us in the dining room, going after Mia. I heard him call out her name.

My heart begged me to go after her with him, but to be honest, the biggest emotion I was feeling was shame . Followed by abandonment. Worry. Devastation... all the above. I wasn’t good enough for her. Not then, and definitely not now.

Dad had the decency to stay silent, leaving me to my cyclonic inner thoughts, but Fletcher asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

I shook my head.

All this time, I’d been admiring Mia for being a strong woman. She was fiercely committed to her goals, and the only time she’d strayed was during this crisis. Me on the other hand?

I’d been weak.

I’d become the kind of man who lost track of my priorities just to impress her. If she weren’t here, I never would have gotten on a horse, much less gone to the stream and messed around like that. Even once a year, when my niece had her tubing party, I wore protective water shoes at least.

Love had made me careless. Malleable. Subject to whims instead of my goals.

I was a better man on my own, without the self-indulgence of romance.

Mia deserved better. My team deserved better. My family, the kids I served in Texas... we all deserved better than what I’d done.

Fletcher’s phone rang, making all of us jump. He glanced at it, saying, “The team doctor.” He brought the phone to his ear. After a moment, he explained the situation with some medical terms I understood and some I didn’t. Then he listened for a while.

“What’s he saying?” I hissed.

Fletcher held up a finger, and when I pressed him again, he went to the other room altogether.

I slouched down in my chair, covering my face with my hands. This felt worse than losing the Super Bowl, because back then, at least one team had been happy. One team had been celebrating. People even told me how amazing it was to come in second place. Plus, there had been hope that we’d win the next time.

But no one was happy now. I could see it etched into everyone’s faces. Especially Mia’s. None of us knew how bad this was, what it would mean.

The door opened, and my heart jumped, wondering if she had come back.

Again, weak .

Then sneakers sounded on the wood floor, and Bryce came into the kitchen, a crease etched into his brow.

I opened my mouth to speak, but then Dad beat me to it. “She okay?”

Bryce answered with a somber shrug.

More footsteps sounded as Fletcher came back into the room. “The team doctor wants to stitch you up at the facility. Guess he’s worried I’ll do a botch job.” There was some disgruntled muttering about his medical degree and residency. Then he let out a sigh. “I can drive you there, keep an eye on it.”

“No, stay with your wife and kids,” I said.

Fletcher started to argue, but Dad jumped in. “I’ll drive you. Bryce, follow in my truck so I have a ride back.”

Bryce nodded, looking so much like Fletcher, arms crossed and everything. “’Slong as I don’t have to ride with Ford.”

Fletcher huffed out a sigh. “Fine. I can see I’m not needed here. Let me bandage you up at least.”

Within a few minutes, he had my wound wrapped for the trip. Then my brothers helped me out to my truck, the late afternoon sun glancing off the windshield.

Acting like I was an invalid, they helped me into the pickup. I swatted Fletcher’s hand away when he tried to buckle me.

“Hey, I have kids—it’s a habit,” he said.

My smile lasted all of half a second.

Fletcher said, “Have the doctor call and update me, please. And if you need anything, let me know. I’ll be in Dallas within two hours. Liv will be okay with the girls.”

I nodded, grateful for him.

Even Bryce wished me good luck before shutting the door and walking to Dad’s pickup.

That was the thing about family.

They loved you, even when you didn’t deserve it.

After a couple minutes, Dad had my bags in the truck bed and was sitting in the driver’s seat. He started the truck and pulled out the driveway, leaving home in the rearview.

Dad said, “I’ll need you to give me directions when we get a little closer.”

“Okay.” I leaned my chair back, staring at the gray headliner. Even with my eyes open, my mind kept seeing the look on Mia’s face when I told her I didn’t want her here.

But she’d been so quick to pack her bags and leave. Had her driver been on standby this whole time, ready to whisk her away? Had she been planning for this to end badly, one way or another?

The question ricocheted through my mind as we drove down the highway, and the only reprieve I got was when Dad said, “You’ve been moping long enough.”

Which wasn’t really a reprieve at all, because now the attack was coming from my dad.

I stared over at him, convinced I hadn’t heard him right. “Moping? I’m a professional football player with an injury. It’s not something you just get over.”

“ Moping . And I don’t care what name you wear on the front of your jersey; you have Madigan on your back. That means something.”

Frustrated, I pushed the lever to raise my seat and stared over at Dad, suburbs blurring out the window behind him. “Tell me, how should I be reacting?”

“Well first of all, you should be calling Mia and apologizing for pushing her away.”

I gritted my teeth together.

“Second, you should apologize to Bryce for snapping at him.”

Could he hear my molars grinding?

“And third of all, you don’t give up hope until you have all the information.”

“Dad, I’m just a few months away from the end of the season, and I’ve already been dealing with turf toe. It’s not looking good.”

He gave me a wry smile. “Miracles don’t require facts.”

I looked out my window, annoyed by his optimism.

“You’re thinking something,” he said. “Go ahead.”

I made myself look at him as I said it. “How can you believe in miracles when we needed one with Mom and she didn’t get one? It’s all chance.”

Dad was quiet for a moment, and all I could hear was the rush of wind outside the vehicle and some overplayed country song on the radio. I already wished I could take back the question.

I could feel myself being shitty. Earlier to Mia, now to my dad. It was like this angry snake had replaced my tongue, lashing out every time I opened my mouth. I didn’t know how to stop it. Which only made me feel worse. Weaker than before.

There was more patience in his voice than I deserved as he said, “Do you know how many people live their lives in marriages they hate? Resenting the person who lies in bed next to them?” He pressed his lips together, and when he spoke, his voice shook with emotion. “I loved your mom every day of her life, and I know she loved me too until her very last breath. If you ask me, that’s a miracle.”

My throat felt tight. “You’re right, Dad. I’m glad you got a miracle. I’m just not sure I’ll get mine.”