She glances over at me, and then she lowers her voice—but not so low I can’t still hear her (maybe since I’m literally hanging onto every word she speaks). “I’m sorry. I just so badly wanted it to be yours. I wanted a life with you.”
“And you thought trapping me with a baby was the way to do that? That’s really fucked up, Michelle. Even for you.”
She starts crying, but I can’t muster any sympathy for her. I doubt Luke will, either.
“What I did with Jack...it was a mistake.” She sniffles and seems to tighten her arms around herself. “I know that now. I just thought you’d fight for me.”
“You played a game, and you lost,” he says flatly. “After what happened with Savannah, you should’ve known better. And I don’t really care what you and Jack did. I’m just glad I’m not going to be tied to you for the rest of my life.”
There’s a knock at the front door, and I move to answer it.
When I open it, I’m shocked at who’s standing on the other side. “Calvin,” I whisper.
His lips thin. “May I come in?”
“Of course.” I open the door wider and I lead the way to the family room where my husband and his daughter are currently duking it out. Or as Michelle stands there looking all apologetic and Luke lies helplessly on the couch.
“Daddy!” Michelle says when she sees him, and she rushes toward him. He pats her back gently as he gives her a hug.
“Mr. Bennett,” Luke says, sitting up a little straighter.
“How’s the knee?” Calvin grunts.
Luke clears his throat. “Fresh off surgery that was a total success. Dr. Charles says I’ll get complete range of motion back with a little PT.”
Well that’s certainly a more optimistic picture than he’s been painting for everyone else.
“Glad to hear it,” he says. “I came to help Michelle get her stuff out of here. She’ll be coming home with me a while.”
Does that mean he knows the truth? Did Michelle actually confess to her father that she’s a manipulating bitch who slept with brothers just to make one of them jealous?
If he wasn’t standing here in my family room, I wouldn’t believe it.
An awkward beat of silence passes, and then Calvin gives Michelle a stern look before he glances at Luke. “I’m sorry for what she’s put you through.” His voice is gruff, and Michelle looks absolutely miserable. She didn’t just lose Luke. She also disappointed her father.
A moving truck comes by later in the afternoon, and Calvin takes off with very little interaction aside from when he first walked in.
And that’s it. Michelle is out. She’s gone, and that’s all I care about.
* * *
Luke is propped on the couch with pillows elevating his knee on Sunday at ten when the first game starts in our time zone.
The Aces are playing at home, which apparently means the afternoon game, and I guess it also means it’s Football Sunday just as it’s been my entire life.
At least I sort of understand the game now, though not watching Luke strut around in those tight little football pants will definitely make it a whole lot more boring.
We watch the Broncos game first, and he watches both his brother and Allen Hammond, who’s back on the field like nothing happened last Sunday. It reminds me that today is the first Sunday Luke doesn’t get to play, and the thought makes me sad. He won’t get to play for the entire rest of the season. The Aces are projected to do really well. This season could be his shot at a Super Bowl ring, and while I believe he’ll still get one if the team wins the big game, this certainly wouldn’t be how he’d want it. Maybe they won’t even get there with one of their key players out.
My heart breaks for him.
Luke studies every play. I set a bowl of popcorn beside him, but it sits totally neglected as he pauses and rewinds live TV so he can focus on what certain players are doing and then watch again to see what other players are doing in reaction.
It’s not really the most entertaining way to watch the game, but it does tell me he’d make a good position coach. I still want to get him to talk about the future, but he’s so focused on his injury right now that it’s just not a good time.
I head to my office. Two of the Aces guys have signed up for publicity with me and both are looking for community outreach ideas, so I research some different opportunities that take place on Tuesdays since that’s their only day off.
I drown myself in work for a couple hours, and then I grab lunch for both Luke and me around noon. I set a sandwich and salad on the couch beside him, and he hardly acknowledges me.
I go back to the office, and when I emerge at one to watch the Aces game with him, I see that his sandwich and salad still sit untouched beside him.
“Eat,” I command.
He doesn’t even look at me. “Not hungry,” he grunts.
“Eat it anyway, or Pepper will.” I go for a light, teasing tone.
He pushes the plate away.
“Come on, Luke,” I beg. “You need your strength to get healthy. At least do your leg exercises if you won’t eat.”
He sighs. “What difference does it make? We both know this is the end of my career.”
“Regardless of what comes next in your career, you’re young. You still need to get healthy. Are you just going to sit on the couch with your knee propped for the rest of your life?”
He purses his lips, and I wonder what he’d do without me. Maybe sit on the couch forever.
I’m not allowing that.
“I know it’s a tough road.” I take his hand in mine. “But I’m right here, okay?” I know it’s not enough, that I am not enough, but I still need him to know he isn’t going through this alone. And when I say that I’m right here, I really mean we—both me and this baby I think I’m carrying. “We’ll get through it. You’ll come out stronger once you’re able to start therapy.”
He pulls his hand away. “You and I both know that’s not true.”
I pick up his plate and set it directly on his lap. “I know it’s true. I just need you to believe it, too. Having a bad attitude isn’t going to change it.”
He lets out an exaggerated sigh, like I’m an annoyance who’s just in his way. And then the Aces game starts, and that’s the end of our conversation as he laser-focuses on it.
“Coach put in Higgins,” he mutters as soon as he sees his team take the field. “I knew he would. That kid was just waiting for something to happen to either Josh or me. Man, did he luck the fuck out.”
“You getting hurt isn’t lucky for anybody,” I say, doing my best to keep the tone positive in here.
He just gives me a look like I’m dumb. Maybe I am for believing the best in people, but I guess it’s true. Tristan Higgins wouldn’t have gotten this opportunity today if Luke was on the field.
I sit beside him as we watch a little bit of the game, and he yells at the television. A lot. I’ve never seen him get so passionate about anything before, and if we weren’t sitting here because he’s hurt, it would be hilariously entertaining to watch him.
But the truth of the matter is that we are here because of an injury.