I faded in and out, but eventually, somehow, I was sitting inside on my sofa, and a policeman was speaking to me slowly, letting me know that one of the hired valets had called the police when they’d seen football players fighting in the back of the house. Apparently, no one was badly hurt, and no one wanted to press charges . . . unless I did. Did I know who hit me?
I shook my head. No way was I going to be one who narked out. I might not be a member of the team anymore, but I wouldn’t do Zeke like that.
“I think I just ran into something. Or someone. It’s no big deal. I’m fine.” I glanced around. Just a couple of the guys were left, but I didn’t see Zeke anywhere. Or Coach, either, for that matter.
“We made arrangements for everyone who was impaired to be escorted home.” The cop rose to his feet, his hands on his hips. “Mr. Spencer, sir, we’re all real sorry about what happened to you on the field. It’s a crap deal, that’s for sure.” His jaw worked. “But at the same time, sir, we can’t cut you a break for this kind of situation. Not more than this one time.”
“I understand.” I was still pretty out of it, but I managed to get to my feet and extend my hand. “I appreciate it, and I’m sorry that you guys had to get involved. I never intended for things to get out of control like this.”
As I heard the words spill out of my mouth, I realized grimly that I meant more than just this party. Somehow, it felt as though everything in my world had spun away from me.
And I wasn’t sure how to make that right again.
14
Noah
I awoke the morning after the party to a cotton mouth, throbbing head, and a wrecked house. Well, it wasn’t destroyed in the sense of what a home might look like after a high school all-night kegger, but there was trash in the kitchen and living room and on the front porch . . . dishes left all over, glasses and bottles everywhere, and a general sense of . . . mess.
Yeah, it was a mess. Everything was a mess, including me. As I dropped down to sit at my kitchen table, reality crashed down over me, and it wasn’t pretty.
I’d spent the last months doing exactly what Coach Briars had said last night. I’d been throwing a temper tantrum, kicking and screaming against life because things hadn’t gone my way. Now that I forced myself to really look at everything, I realized it wasn’t just about losing football, either. It was . . . all of it. Angela being sick, Angela dying, being alone for so long . . . thinking that I could find my way back to normal with Emma and having those hopes dashed . . . then being on the verge of something with Alison that could have been the key to the rest of my life.
I let myself think of her now, remembering how much fun we’d had, how connected I’d felt to her. When she’d spoken, I’d not only heard her, I’d understood her meaning somewhere deep within me. And she’d listened to me, never trying to throw platitudes and false optimism my way—she’d heard me, too.
Bowing my head, I closed my eyes. What if I hadn’t been in a coma after the surgery? What if I’d woken up as I was meant to, come home, called her . . . and we’d spent the weekend cuddled in my bed, watching old movies just the way we’d planned? What if everything in my world hadn’t gone awry? Would she be here with me now? I remembered with a pang the one morning we’d awoken together upstairs in my bed, and I’d looked at her lying next to me, thinking for the first time in God knew how long that maybe living wasn’t so bad?
But nothing had gone as we’d planned—asI’dplanned—and so instead of adjusting and figuring out what came next, I’d acted like a toddler. Coach’s description was eerily on target. I’d kicked and screamed about not getting my way, pouting whenever anyone tried to help me.
Was it too late to fix everything? I glanced around my kitchen, wincing. It was a fucking mess, the perfect allegory for my life. But I could call in help. I’d phone my housekeepers and offer to pay them triple their normal rate, and then I’d tip them generously, too. My house could be back in order by tonight.
My life? That was going to take a little more doing. A little more finesse. I’d have to face some hard truths, try to undo some wrongs . . . and yeah, I was going to end up hurting some people who didn’t deserve it, no matter how careful I might be.
I got up and wandered around the house, searching for my phone. When I found it, I tackled first things first: I called the woman who owned the housekeeping service and groveled. I told her that I didn’t deserve her graciousness, but I’d be the most grateful client ever if she was able to send a team over at some point today to do a deep cleaning. The woman made me work for it—I didn’t blame her—but in the end, she acquiesced. But I was definitely going to pay triple my typical rate.
I’d take it.
And then I sat down and turned my phone over in my hands for the next ten minutes, trying to work up courage for my next call.
When I dialed the number, my finger trembled slightly. I raised the phone to my ear and sat listening to it ring . . . once. Twice. Three times . . .
When I heard the click, my heartbeat sped up, and I sat forward a little, taking a deep breath, ready to speak. But it wasn’t her on the other end—it was a mechanical voice, informing me that the party I was trying to reach wasn’t available and inviting me to leave a message after the tone.
I grit my teeth and floundered. What to say on a voicemail? How did I begin to make this up over the phone? I took a deep breath and let it out, and then I cleared my throat.
“Hey. It’s me—”
“Spencer? Where are you? God, this place is trashed. You son of a bitch, you better not be laying here dead somewhere.”
I ended the call and dropped the phone as Zeke stomped into the kitchen. His face was all thunder and fury, and I remembered suddenly that he’d slugged me last night. What the hell had all that been about? I’d been too drunk at the time to wonder, but now . . .
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to make sure you weren’t dead or in jail, asshole.” He stood there glowering, his hands on his hips.
“Yeah, well . . .” I shrugged. “I’m not either. Were you still here when the cops showed up?”
Zeke shook his head. “No, I took off right after—”
