Hello Quarterback (Hello #8)

55. Ford

55

FORD

It took me a long time to realize I had no idea how to prove to Mia that I was changing. Anyone could go to therapy once a week, but actually doing the work, making lasting changes, that was harder to prove.

I’d asked my dad and my brothers who actually had successful relationships for advice, but I needed to ask someone who knew Mia better than anyone else. So I called Gage Griffen and asked if I could come over and speak to him and his wife.

Farrah was Mia’s best friend. And Gage worked more hours with Mia than anyone on the planet—aside from Vanover. He was my backup plan, followed by Tallie.

And even though Gage was my friend, I was still nervous as I parked my truck in front of his unassuming suburban house. The only thing that stood out about it was the bright yellow front door.

I knocked on it a few times and instantly heard the clatter of life behind the door. Children yelling, two of them arguing over who would answer. A pan falling to the floor. It made me smile, reminding me so much of my own home growing up.

The door swung open, revealing their daughter Cora wearing matching pajamas. She must have been eight or nine. “Hi, Ford!”

“Hi, Princess,” I said with a smile.

She blushed. “No one calls me that anymore.”

Gage came up behind her, holding a toddler in his arms. “She’s growing up too fast. Come in.”

“Good to see you,” I said as I followed him into the house—I must have been there a handful of times, but it looked different each time with fresh art and pictures crowding the walls.

“The kids are watching a movie,” he said. “Come out to the patio with us.”

I followed him, seeing Cora go sit by her brother, Andrew, on the couch. Then they called Tara over, and she toddled to sit between them, hogging the popcorn bowl. They had an incredible family.

When we got to the back porch, Farrah was already out there, curled under a blanket on the patio couch in front of the gas fire pit. Gage asked me if I wanted a beer or if she needed a refill, but I shook my head, going to sit in a chair across from Farrah.

He sat next to his wife, pulling her legs over his lap in a familiar way that had me missing Mia like crazy.

Farrah said, “If you weren’t a football player, I’d tackle you.”

Okay, she was pissed at me too.

Gage tilted his head at her. “You said you’d play nice.”

She shrugged, drawing the blanket to her chin. It would have been chilly out here if not for the warmth coming from the fire. I leaned a little closer to get more of its heat. “Look, I know I fucked up. And I want to make it right, but Mia needs to see that I’ve changed. I just don’t know how to show her if she’s not going to give me another chance.”

Gage pressed his lips together, nodding thoughtfully. Farrah tilted her head as she studied me like she was trying to tell if I was full of shit. I couldn’t blame her.

Finally, Gage asked, “Well, what are you doing to make it better?”

I listed off the things I was doing in therapy to change my attachment style. My therapist said it was common for someone who lost a parent young to avoid people when they were upset, but she was hopeful I would get better with time and practice. I knew I could.

Gage said, “The thing about CEOs is that they operate on data. Mia will need to see something concrete—reports of some kind—to show that you’re making the improvements.”

Farrah nodded. “But reports are so not sexy. And I’m sure she wouldn’t want your therapist writing her letters keeping track of you.”

But then a lightbulb went off in my mind. “What if I wrote her letters?”

Farrah gave me a small smile. “He’s not as dumb as I thought he was.”

Gage gave her an admonishing look. “Farrah!”

“What!” she protested. “He broke my best friend’s heart...” Then she looked over at me. “But I’m glad you’re working to fix it. I know she loves you, Ford.”

The confirmation from Farrah was like a hug from a friend when you’re on the verge of tears already. I swallowed down the lump in my throat. “I’m not sure if that’s enough,” I said.

Farrah lifted her lips to the side. “Love isn’t enough... Gage and I have been together for years now, and if we just counted on the feeling of love to carry us through, we’d never make it. A relationship, a marriage, requires thoughtfulness, forgiveness, patience, self-control, growth, and more. But if your love leads you to action, I know you’ll make it through.”

With Farrah’s words echoing in my mind, I went home and wrote the first letter to Mia. I wasn’t sure how long it would take, but I wouldn’t give up. Because Farrah was right; love wasn’t an emotion.

It was my dad coming to stay with me just because he thought I didn’t want to be alone.

It was Krew and Milo coming to the field at midnight to drive me home.

It was Vanover making sure Mia ate on her busy days at the office.

And now, it would be me, writing to Mia to show her I wasn’t running. Not anymore.