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“I wasn’t seeing anyone. I don’t remember anyone kissing me, but I didn’t see anyone for a long time after you. Definitely long after that. I couldn’t get you out of my head.”
“But you didn’t answer my messages.” I state the obvious, trying not to get emotional. I’m not angry anymore, not in the way I was, but I still feel sorry for my younger self. The way I pined so hard for this man for so long. The way no one else compared. It was part of the reason I went back to fixating on my crush on Xander.
“That was part of the agreement.” He takes a breath.
“Agreement?” I echo. A sick feeling hits me hard. The dread that comes with having an inkling of where this is headed.
“I only got a second chance if I stayed away from you.” I can hear the heaviness in his voice, feel it like a pall that falls over the room.
There’s only one person who would have given him that kind of deal. One person who would have kept him away from me on the pain of ending his career. Even his own uncle wouldn’t have been that cruel—but someone else would. My father.
“That’s what he promised you to make you go away so fast? I wondered what he could have said. How he scared you off so completely.”
“He used his connections to get me on the new team. Talked the coach into giving me a second shot at life, atfootball, at something besides working a minimum wage job when it was all over.”
“And you got drafted and got a championship out of it. Pretty good deal.” I feel my blood run cold. The anger I thought I’d buried blooming again.
“No. It’s always felt tainted. Part of the reason I’ve felt so careless about all of this. But I didn’t do it for the career. At least not the way you think.”
“No? Then for what?” I’m trying to find my professional side right now. The side that says Quentin is just a client of mine, and I need to take all this in objectively, but my heart feels like it’s being crushed in a vice. All the old pain I felt over him is resurfacing.
“Your father pointed out that if we got married, with the way things were—the only life I could have offered you would have been difficult at best and soul-crushing at worst. He told me he’d disinherit you, cut you off from your family, and quit paying for your school. That he’d do whatever he could to crush any chance I had of getting off the bench, and I’d be left with whatever job I could get with a high school diploma. One that wouldn’t pay the bills and would force you to work long hours with me. That you’d never get to travel, never get to finish college, never get any of the things you deserved.” He stops for a moment to catch himself as tears start to form in his eyes. “I couldn’t do that to you.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? Give me a chance to have a say in it. I would have told him to go to hell.”
“Because I believed it. All the shit he said… I could see it all playing out that way. Having to watch you wither away because I’d stolen the chance of something better away from you. You were so good to me, Madison. So trusting and loving in ways I never deserved, and I knew you’d be loyal to a fault.”
“It should have been my choice to make.” I feel the fury rise—that my father had fucked up more things in my life that I didn’t know about, and Quentin had allowed him to do it.
“It should have been. I should have told you. If I had it to do all over again, I would.”
“I deserved to know he was manipulating you that way—manipulating us.”
“You did, but you have to understand, Madison… I came from nothing. I was embarrassed. I’d fucked up everything at that point, and only saw myself fucking up more things in the future. I couldn’t believe you even wanted me.” I hear his voice break with his pain and it guts me.
As mad as I am, I feel sorry for him—or at least the younger version of him. He’d been through so much. Abandoned and hurt by so many people when he was a kid. His father. His mother. His grandparents all thought he was too much. I’m sure it was hard for him to trust or believe in anything that wouldn’t lead to more heartache.
“I wanted you. I would have done anything for you. It broke my heart when you disappeared.”
“I know.” His voice is raw. “I know I fucked it up. I know I hurt you. I’m so sorry for it. I wish I could take it back.”
I sit for a moment, catching my breath and collecting myself before I reach out and take his hand.
“It was a long time ago. He took advantage of you too—your situation. He didn’t like that he couldn’t control you the way he controls everyone else, so he found a way.”
“I should have known better, done better. At the time, I just kept thinking about how my mom was after my dad went to jail. How she was left to pick up all the pieces because he couldn’t hold it together. I didn’t want to be him. Didn’t want to see any of that happen to you because of me.”
“You weren’t going to jail though.”
“No, but… my senior year, my dad got out of jail. He didn’t have anyone left, and he’d seen me playing on TV. So he came upto live near the college in a halfway house. Said he wanted to spend time and get to know me finally, since he’d missed so much of my childhood. And you know… At the time I was vulnerable to his story. Vulnerable to what I thought he could offer me. My mom and I, we had a strained relationship. We still talked some, but she had her new family out in California. A much better life than we’d had, and she was trying to focus on it. My younger brothers took up a lot of her time, and she didn’t care much about football. So I thought with my dad, maybe he could be that somebody for me, you know? And maybe I could be his reason to stay on track with his post-release program. That we’d support each other and be each other’s family.”
“I understand.” I run my fingers over the backs of his. I can see young Quentin standing in front of me again. Can still see the lost look on his face that summer.
“But then he was having so much trouble readjusting. We got into a couple of arguments that last season. He said he needed me. I’d have practice or an away game, and he’d tell me I was a shitty son for leaving him alone like that. That he needed me, and I was too busy. I’d feel guilty and skip a practice or a class here or there to try to make it up to him. It never seemed to be enough to make him happy though. Then one day he texted me a few times. He’d been kicked out of the halfway house for repeatedly breaking the rules and drinking, needed money for a place, and I didn’t answer because I had a game. So he tried to steal some liquor and cash from a local stop and go. When I got back, someone from the halfway house had contacted me to let me know what had happened. When I went to see him, I couldn’t afford the bail. He was a repeat offender, and you know… I was twenty-one. No money. No one wanted to give me shit as far as a loan. He was furious. Told me I was worthless to him, and to fuck off. It spun me out so bad. I was drinking and fucking around to try to drown it out. Going topractices still drunk. Passing out in the locker room. Skipping classes I needed to keep my grades within range. Just fucking up left and right.”
“Did Tobias and Xander know? Why didn’t they help you?”
“No. I was too embarrassed to tell them. My uncle knew, but then he never liked my dad. Felt like he fucked up everything he touched. Me. My mom’s life. He told me to stay away from my dad when he got out, and when I didn’t, he told me those were the consequences of my actions. I was a man and had to deal with them.”
