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I smile. “I’d have to…embellish the truth in order for them to get what they want.”
Hector crosses an ankle over his knee and puts an arm around the back of the couch, looking comfortable, but intent. “Give me your gut answer, Pax. What do you want to do about this situation on your most primal level?”
“Tell the guy I’m not doing it. My dad making it to the Hall of Fame is a great accomplishment, but I see it from the perspective of the kid who idolized his father just like everyone else but hardly ever got to see him. Basketball was always the most important thing. He and my mother hired people to raise me, and I’m not exaggerating. My father never attended a single one of my Little League games because he said all the attention on him would take away from it.”
“How did that feel for you?”
I scoff. “I’m ashamed to admit I admired him for it back then. Told myself he really wanted to be there but was sacrificing watching me play so that I could shine. Now I see that it was all bullshit. He just didn’t want to be bothered. There were lots of excuses.” I pause, remembering the inevitable disappointment when I thought my dad might come to an event or do something with me. “Mostly it was that he was traveling, training, or in meetings. He used the old I’d draw too much attention line a lot, too. Said he preferred to watch my basketball games on film so he could focus on technique and rewind when he needed to, but that was bullshit, too. He never watched a single one. And then he’s out there making these commercials saying things like, ‘No excuses’ to others. He was nothing but excuses, though.”
“Do you resent your father?”
My laugh is bitter. “I don’t want to. I’d prefer to never even think about him.”
Hector gives me a serious look. “Don’t talk around it. Gut check answer. Do you resent your father?”
“Yeah,” I say, the answer louder than I intended. “Yeah, I fucking resent him.”
“Good. Doesn’t it feel good to just say it, instead of going back and forth about whether you should or shouldn’t?”
I nod.
“Let’s keep going in this headspace. Is it okay for Cassidy to do what she did to you, and to possibly do it to your teammates?”
“No.”
“And should you say something about it?”
I truly am conflicted about how to answer this question. “I honestly don’t know, man. I’ve got broad shoulders and turning down advances from women is something I do all the time.”
Hector lowers his brows, frustrated. “Are those other women in a position of power? Able to influence your team owner?”
“No,” I admit.
“Does Kylie deserve to know you have feelings for her?”
I look away. “I don’t know if it’s about what she deserves. If she’s not ready, it might make her uncomfortable.”
“Gut check answer, Pax. Why are you afraid to tell Kylie how you really feel?”
“Because she might not feel the same way,” I confess, throwing my hands in the air. “That’s it, man. I want her so goddamn bad that I’d rather say nothing and at least have hope than get flat out rejected.”
“But you said you think she has feelings for you, too.”
I shift in my seat, wishing I could get the hell out of here.
“Stop thinking and just speak, Pax,” Hector says.
“I think she’s attracted to me. I think she’s probably lonely and vulnerable and I feel like a safe person to fall into. But it wouldn’t last. It couldn’t. And I don’t want to hurt her, and I guess…” I hang my head. “I don’t want to get hurt, either. I don’t want to have to see her over at Pike’s and remember…” I shake my head. “It’s not worth the risk.”
“Why couldn’t it last?”
It feels like there’s a rock inside me, weighing me down in every possible way. “I’m not made for love. I’m made for being a decent friend and a good fuck, but…that’s it.”
“Why do you”
I cut him off, standing up. “I’m done for today. But you’ve given me a lot to think about.”
Not looking back, I walk out of his office, closing the door behind me. The rock is still there, heavy with past failures and disappointments.
I need to push myself out of this place. Going straight to my locker, I get out my running shoes and headphones, putting the headphones on as I walk to the workout room in hopes no one will stop me to talk.
Once there, I step onto a treadmill and get lost in the music of Metallica. I push the arrow to increase the speed, setting it high enough that I have to work hard to keep up. Soon, I’m sweating, the physical work making my heartbeat increase while calming my mind at the same time.
