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Mom? She’s probably taking a nap, sleepy after a late boozy lunch.
There’s only one person who I can reach out to who would understand, but I don’t know if he’ll actually be interested, let alone if he’ll even talk to me.
Fuck it. I text him anyway.
Me: Can I call you? I have some questions about scouts and the draft.
I shove my phone back in my pocket and make my way out of the, mostly empty, locker room, disappointed none of my teammates are around. We’ll have to get together later so I can tell them the good news.
Man. I shake my head, still blown away. I head outside, grimacing against the dim sunlight, making my way to the parking lot when my phone buzzes.
Nervous, I pull it out of my pocket and check to see I have a notification.
Drew Callahan: Call me now.
I fumble with the phone, nearly dropping it before I come to a stop and call my ex-girlfriend’s dad. He answers on the first ring, his voice friendly, like it’s any other old day and we’re talking about football like we always do.
“Hey,” I say, hating how nervous I sound. “Thanks for taking my call.”
“I only have a few minutes, but what’s up?” Drew asks.
“I just talked to my coaches. I, uh, I have interest from the NFL. They think I have a good chance of making the upcoming draft,” I explain.
“Eli, that’s fantastic. Congratulations.” He sounds like he means it too, which makes me feel like maybe my ex’s dad doesn’t hate me after all.
“Thanks. I, uh, I didn’t know who else to call,” I confess, withholding the exhale that wants to escape me.
I probably shouldn’t have admitted that. I sound pathetic. Like I have no one else. Ava’s gone and my friends aren’t around right now. They’ll be excited for me and we’ll probably drink ourselves stupid over it tonight—and for Diego too—but I really need someone to actually care about me right now.
In this moment.
Someone who matters to me.
“I’m honored that you wanted to tell me,” Drew says, and he sounds like it too. “You’re an excellent player, Eli. You’ve been amazing all season. I’m not surprised you’re being considered.”
“I’m sure Jake is too,” I say, because of course he is.
“Oh yeah. It’s definitely happening for him,” Drew says, and I can hear the pride in his voice. He’s proud of his oldest son, and he should be.
I wish my dad could be proud of me, but he’s too busy fucking some random ho he picked up on a dating app to care.
“That’s awesome,” I say. We hated each other years ago, Jake and me. And he might hate me now after what I did to his sister, but there was a point in my life when I could consider Jake Callahan my friend.
And I liked it. I liked him. I like all those Callahans, damn it.
“Eli, if you ever need to talk, you can reach out to me anytime you want, you got it?” Before I can respond, he continues, “I know you don’t have a lot of parental support, and I know you and Ava are—finished, but I’m here for you if you need anything.”
“I appreciate that,” I tell him, hating how tight my chest feels. Like I could cry or some shit.
And I don’t cry. Like ever.
“Anytime,” he repeats. “I’m proud of you. You’ve put in the work, and it shows. I think you’re about to be rewarded.”
Drew Callahan’s words stick with me as I drive back to my apartment. They stay with me as I walk through the parking lot. No one ever tells me I make them proud. Ava would tell me she was proud of me all the time, but that was different.
It’s nice to have an adult see your potential. See all the years and the sweat you put into something.
Hearing Drew’s praise was the huge boost that I needed—knowing that an adult actually gives a shit…
