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“No, son, I guess she’s not.” There was no malice in his expression; just mild disappointment, and a shit ton of respect.
“I’m sorry it wasn’t the answer you’d hoped for, Coach.”
“Me too, son. Me too. Now get out of here.”
I gave him a nod and walked out of there. I knew the guys wouldn’t understand, but it wasn’t their life.
Back in senior year, at high school, I’d watched my mom almost die from a bullet meant for me. I’d watched the fear in my old man’s eyes as he held the one woman who had always stood by his side, despite his flaws—and he had many. I’d made a promise to myself that day if Mya ever gave me a second chance—which she had—I would never do anything to jeopardize that.
Mya wanted a career, she wanted to make a difference. Her plans didn’t include being with an NFL football player. And I didn’t want anything that didn’t include her. I wanted roots, a life together. I didn’t want to be thrust into a world of football and fame.
Exiting the gym, I pulled out my cell and scrolled to my dad’s number.
“Asher, this is a surprise,” he said.
“Hey, Dad. I was hoping we could talk.”
“Is everything okay, Son? You sound—”
“Everything’s great. There’s just some stuff I need your help with.”
“Okay.” He took a breath. “You want to talk about it now or should I drive up there?”
“Yeah?” I smiled.
There had been a time when Andrew Bennet was too focused on work to drop everything and come running. But he wasn’t that guy anymore. I hadn’t forgotten the way he’d treated Mya in the early stages of our relationship, or the cold-hearted bastard he’d been growing up, but I had found it within myself to forgive him. He loved Mya. She’d opened his eyes to so much more than a life of hard work and sparkling reputation. Between her and Mom, he was no longer the monster I had grown up with. I’d earned a second chance with Mya, so it seemed only fair, I gave him one.
“Of course, Asher. How about I come this evening? We can go to that quaint little place you took me and your mother last time we visited.”
“The Hideout? Actually, I have somewhere else in mind.”
“Whatever you want. Will Mya be joining us?”
“She has a shift at the center, but she might be able to join us after, if you’re still around.”
“I can always make time for Mya.” I smiled at that. “I’ll see you both later.”
We hung up and I checked my wristwatch.
Only five hours until I could start putting Operation Future into action.
Mya
“It’s good to see you again, Hugo,” I said, sitting down beside him. He was busy coloring in another picture of Swoop, the Eagles mascot. Sally had printed a bunch off for him. It was his favorite activity; one of the only activities he engaged with.
“That looks great,” I added when he didn’t acknowledge me. “I thought we could try something different today. I’m hoping you’ll like it.” I placed the blank cards and envelopes down in front of me. I’d spoken to Sally about my idea and she and Hugo’s social worker were all for it.
He finally lifted his dull brown eyes to mine. “Hi, there,” I said, giving him a soft smile. “Would you like me to tell you about the activity I thought we could do?”
He gave me an imperceptible shrug, but I took it as permission.
Hope unfurled in my stomach. I didn’t want to get overexcited, but this was huge. I gently pushed a card and pen toward him. “So, I know how you love football. Your brothers have been telling me all about it.” I winked and his little brows furrowed. “They said you want to be like Fletcher Cox when you’re older?”
He stared back at me with a blank expression, but I kept going. “I want you to think about football for a minute. I want you to think about the way it makes you feel and why you love it so much, and then, when you’re ready, I want you to write one wish down on the card. It can be anything to do with football, okay?”
Seconds ticked by as Hugo stared at the blank card. I didn’t push. I didn’t speak. I just sat there quietly, waiting. For this to work, he had to engage with the process... he had to own it.
After a few minutes, I was worried he wasn’t going to bite. But then, slowly, Hugo picked up the pen and began drawing. His grip was shaky, the lines messy and unintelligible. But we could figure out the details later. I just needed an idea to work with.
