Roughing the Kicker (Austin Troopers)

Chapter Twenty-three

C utter recognized he was being a jerk. He didn’t need his boss reminding him of it every chance she got. Not that he entirely blamed Rosie. She and Neal and everyone else on the medical staff were tired of his mood, which had been awful in the two weeks since Rye went back to Kristen.

If that was indeed what happened. It’s not like he knew for sure, because he was the one who opted to cut off communication with Rye while he figured things out. Whatever the hell that meant.

All Cutter knew for sure was that it hurt like hell to see Rye every day at the team facility and not talk to him. Sure, he was pissed off at the way Rye was jerking him around, but he missed his friend, too. And going out of the way to avoid him wasn’t helping things. It sure wasn’t helping his mood.

He got his lunch and went in search of Rye. Cutter had noticed over the past couple weeks that Rye still sat at the same table—their table, and they’d come to call it—by himself. He always ate alone, never with any of his teammates, and there were times when Cutter would catch Rye looking his way when he came into the dining room.

Sometimes, they would make eye contact, and then Cutter would turn away. Yeah, he was being a jerk and an idiot. He didn’t need Rosie to remind him of that.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked as he approached Rye’s table.

“By you, if you want it.” Cutter noticed Rye didn’t smile.

“Might as well,” Cutter said. “I’ve got to sit somewhere.”

“How are you?” Rye asked, and Cutter shrugged.

“Fine, mostly. You?”

“Same ole, same ole. Just playing out the string.” There were two games in the season, one home and one away, but there would be no playoffs.

“I’m sorry it hasn’t been a better season,” Cutter said. He knew all the guys were upset. They’d made a good run the year before, and it seemed as if everyone expected them to build on. Unfortunately, it wasn’t meant to be.

“We all are. We had high expectations this year.” Rye gave a shrug. “For whatever reason, it didn’t work out. That’s not on any one person.”

“Definitely not,” Cutter assured him. “You had a great season.”

“Thanks for saying that.” Rye gave him a smile. “I want that Oklahoma game back, though.”

“You can’t beat yourself up, man. One kick against Oklahoma did not seal the season.”

“Yeah, I know.” Rye brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead. Cutter noticed it had grown longer and Rye hadn’t cut it. Did that have anything to do with the injury to his head a few weeks ago. “Still, it’s tough.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Cutter said. “How’s Kristen?”

“She’s all right,” Rye said. “She’s actually finishing up her inpatient treatment and is coming home.”

“That’s great.” Cutter tried to sound happy. Home. Whatever that might mean. “So, you’ll be living together again?”

“I didn’t say that.” There was an edge to Rye’s voice.

“Fine. I don’t mean to pressure you.”

“Really? Because it doesn’t sound like you’re fine,” Rye said. “Funny, the guy who’s been lying to his family for God knows how long is pressuring me to figure my life out.” He pushed his chair back and stood. “That’s cool. Maybe we both need some time.”

~&~

As soon as practice was over, Rye went to pick up Kristen from the treatment center. She’d spent two weeks there as an inpatient and was now being discharged. She was still expected to follow-up with an outpatient treatment program. Whether she would was anyone’s guess, but so far she at least sounded committed to it.

Rye had talked to her every day while she was at the facility, and he’d been impressed with her mood and outlook. He hoped she would stick with the program and maintain sobriety, but he’d accepted the fact that Kristen’s success or failure was up to her, and only her. He wasn’t responsible for it.

“How are you feeling?” he asked when he arrived to pick her up.

Kristen sat on the edge of the bed in the small room, devoid of any décor. Rye knew she hated the sterile surroundings, yet she hadn’t complained. A small duffel bag, containing all of the belongings she’d been allowed to have with her, was on the floor beside the bed. She was dressed casually, in yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt, and she appeared healthier and more beautiful than any time Rye could recall in the recent past. “I’m good,” she said. “Ready to go home, though.”

“Then let’s get you there.” Rye forced a smile on his face. “I stopped at the front desk on my way in. They said your discharge paperwork is ready to go.”

“It is.” She held up a folder she’d been holding in her lap. “In here. Along with my first outpatient appointment,” she said. “It’s Tuesday at two.”

“That’s great. We’ll make sure you get there.” He managed a smile. “You look good, Kris. Real good.”

“Thanks.” She smiled. “I appreciate you saying that. And for picking me up.”

“Hey, I told you I wouldn’t abandon you.” Not while she was in rehab, anyway. He picked up her bag. “I drove your car, because I know you hate my truck.”

“I don’t hate it,” she insisted. “It might even be growing on me.”

It was funny she would say that, because Rye was beginning to like it less and less. Either way, it didn’t matter. He escorted Kristen to her Lexus SUV and stowed her bag in the back before helping her inside the car.

Once they were home, Rye helped her inside the house. He was doing all the right things. He knew that. Yet still he felt nothing.

No. That wasn’t true. Rye felt an overwhelming desire to be free. He knew it wasn’t right, but it was there.

“Do you want to lay down?” he asked, once they were inside.

“Lay down?” Kristn repeated. “Like I’ve been doing anything else lately?”

“I’m sorry... I didn’t mean...” He stopped. Sighed. “I’m not even sure what to say anymore.”

“Yeah. Me neither.” Kristen looked at him. “This isn’t going to work, is it?”

Rye played dumb. “I’m not sure what you mean?”

“Us. This. You and me,” she said. “You don’t want to talk about it, do you?”

No. Rye tried for a smile. It was difficult, for sure, but not nearly as hard as it should have been. “Not really.” He managed a shrug. “I don’t like this anymore than you do. In fact, I think it sucks.” Rye closed his eyes, opened them again. “There’s a part of me that still loves you, and always will.”

“But it’s not enough, is it?” Kristen asked, and Rye shook his head.

“No. At this point, I don’t think it is.” He looked to the floor, then up again. “I’m sorry,” Rye said, “and I hope you get well.”

“Me, too. I know I’m not giving up.” Kristen smiled. “Thanks, Rye. For sticking with me. You know, until the bitter end. I’m going to be okay, though.”