“It’s not a simple answer I can just give you, Son.”
I think he sayssonbecause he knows it hurts me. I refuse to flinch.
“It’s complicated,” he continues. “And it involves more than just my mistakes.”
He steps in, his hand hovering near my shoulder before he drops it, realizing I’d back away. Or worse.
“I need you to know something. I never once stopped loving you. Or your mother. The fact I’m here now, trying . . . it’s gotta count for something. Please.”
Before I can respond, the heavy tread of Coach’s turf shoes echoes on the dugout steps. He looks between the two of us.
“We all better now, boys?” Coach asks, his eyebrows raised. I definitely think he used the wordboyson purpose.
I swallow the lump of acid in my throat, forcing my jaw to relax. I look at my dad, whose eyes are still pleading with me, then back to Coach.
“Yeah,” I say, grabbing my glove from the bench and myshin guards from the ground. “We’re good, Coach. Just needed some water.”
I stuff the frustration deep down into the dark, quiet corner of my belly where I keep all my worst thoughts, and head back out to finish workouts with the team.
By the time I finish my routine, the clubhouse is nearly empty. I purposely linger in the showers, letting the hot water beat against my aching right shoulder until the steam clears and the constant clang of slamming lockers fades away. The last thing I want is to end up side by side with Roddy on my way out.
I wrap a towel around my waist and walk out to my locker. The silence of the room is heavy, broken only by the hum of the ice machine down the hall. I grab my phone off the top shelf, the screen lighting up with a notification.
Campbell: I shouldn’t be sharing this with you yet, but it’s the raw cut from Connor. I just wanted you to see how it turned out.
Beneath the message is a video link.
I sit down on the wooden bench, pulling a pair of wireless earbuds from my bag and popping them in. I tap the link.
The video opens with a sweep of my mom’s property—the timber barn bathed in the amber pre-dawn light, steam rising from the pastures in the distance. Then it cuts to me. I watch myself hoisting the pitchfork, the muscles in my back tightening and shifting under the sweat. It looks incredible. Not to toot my own horn, but damn! I look legit. It’s exactly the kind of “grit” Campbell was pitching to me at Earl’s.
Then the interview starts. I watch myself lean on my elbows at my grandfather’s picnic table, delivering the scripted bullshit I rehearsed the night before about traditionand “special magic.” I look like a natural, at least. I’m about to scoff at the words I’m saying, then the camera angle shifts to a wide shot, capturing both Roddy and me.
My breath halts.
I’m delivering a speech about understanding why my dad was on the road, and my gaze is anywhere but on him. That was intentional. I knew I wouldn’t be able to sell the lie if I looked at him too many times. But Roddy? His eyes never left me. Not once.
The camera captures his face in high definition. His eyes aren’t the pretend-sad I assumed they were, they’re swimming with a profound, undeniable pride. He’s looking at me like I’m the greatest thing he’s ever seen, his jaw tight as he fights back what looks like tears. He looks at me the way a father is supposed to look at his son.
A tiny, microscopic chip breaks away from the icy bitterness I’ve carried in my chest for years.
The video fades to black. I sit there in the clubhouse for a long moment, the earbuds cutting off the sound of anything other than the thump of my pulse. Finally, I open the text thread with Campbell.
Jake: Thanks.
A few seconds pass. The typing bubbles appear, then disappear, then pop up again.
Campbell: Just doing my job, McKinney.
I stare at her reply. I can picture her face—chin tucked, professional mask firmly locked in place. She’s trying to pretend she didn’t just do me a massive favor. She’s also holding back a bit of an “I told you so.”
I smirk to myself.
Jake: No, seriously. Thank you. For everything. I know I’m a pain in the ass, so I appreciate it.
I set the phone on my knee, watching. The bubbles appear almost instantly this time.
Campbell: Of course.
