Brandon turns back and looks at me. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I agree with you. It fucking sucks.”
That it does.
Chapter 22: Brandon
What the hell is goingon here? I’m agreeing with Andi Nichols on something? Specifically about my family?
Her situation is different, for sure, but there’s a level of tragedy that most people wouldn’t understand. Of course, it’s not her fault that her brother has a disease. As my dad so likes to remind me, if it weren’t for my tournament, my mom and Jess wouldn’t have been in Hershey, Pennsylvania, that day to begin with.
I always wanted to counter with, “if you’d have let me play football like I wanted ...” but I also know it’s pointless to argue with that man. Which is why I need to keep him as far away from this plan as possible.
I look at Andi, who’s fading fast. She definitely has a concussion. “Listen, you need to get some rest.”
She nods, almost listless. Slowly, she puts her head in her hands.
“Where do you live?”
“Everett.”
Fuck, that’s north of Boston. “Jesus, what are you doing all the way up there?”
She shrugs. “I have to have quick access to Logan to fly places. It’s not like I’m driving down here daily.”
“You need to go to the doctor.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Andrew, you’re not fine. I’m taking you to the ER.”
She looks up. “You can’t. I’ll drive myself.”
I’m not the brightest bulb, but even I know she should not be getting behind the wheel of a car. She’d be just as bad as a drunk driver. I won’t have that on my tally too.
On the other hand, I understand what she’s saying. “Hang on, I’ve got a plan.”
“Yikes.”
