Skye wipes a tear and recounts a story about how she was bullied by her ex over the brain injury she suffered years ago. She explains how I didn’t know her well, she’d altered the training program and frustrated most of the team with her new methods, but I still befriended her.
She makes a plea with me personally about the way my head works. “I understand why people choose to keep things inside, Ryd,” she says with a smile. “But the same way you told me I was talented and powerful the way I am, I’m telling you the same. No fears, my friend. We’ve got your back.”
I press an open palm to my chest. Logically, I know my heart isn’t going to snap out, but emotionally I think it’s about to burst.
She turns the conversation back to her audience, “Without question, Ryder stepped up for me. He defended me against someone cruel once too. That guy talking about him better get his facts straight on that past girlfriend. That’s all I’m saying, it’s not my story to tell.” Skye pauses, then finishes with a soft. “We love you, Grouch.”
“Don’t you listen to it, Ryd,” Parker practically snarls.
While I’m watching Skye’s live, a notification for Dax pops up. His post is three long paragraphs listing all the ways I’ve given up my own time to help him. He talks about his stay at the hospital, how I was the first person he wanted to see after his family.
It’s the final line that strikes me in the center of the chest.
You don’t want a heartless person beside you when you’re facing a career-ending injury. Ryder might not say much publicly, but that makes him even more sincere. He doesn’t need the spotlight to be the good friend he is.
These are my people. My family. Took me long enough to realize it.
These guys will have my back forever. Just like Ava. I let my chin drop to my chest. She’s never faltered, and she’s never hidden what she thinks of me. How many years were wasted worrying about what other people thought, when those who cared to the deepest parts of their bones were screaming the opposite in my ear?
I drag my fingers through my hair and hurry to my bedroom. At the back of my top dresser drawer, I pull out the old wooden box, tuck it under my arm, and set to work.
As though in a fog, I start packing a small duffel bag. Matches, granola bars, a hoodie, and a few beers. I don’t know how long I plan to stay, but it’s better to be prepared.
Before I know it, I’m driving out to the campground. It’s concealed by a few rolling hills, and in the winter, like now, there is a pretty little pond at the base of one slope.
Wooden logs have been shaped into benches and are positioned in a circle beneath a few sparse mesquite trees. The fire pit is still covered in old ash and charcoal, and a few prickly desert flowers splash color throughout browns and dull yellows.
I sit on the bench, looking out over the property. It’s quiet here. Peaceful. A place where I can clear my head.
Halfway through my first beer, a car pulls up slowly. I squint against the glare of the sun, then smirk when Drake steps out. He looks a lot like Griffin did, dressed in a loose T-shirt and black sweats, hair on end. We’re an hour from Vegas. No doubt he woke up and drove here not long after me.
“Guessing you saw,” I say, tipping the bottle to my lips.
“Yeah.” Drake accepts a beer and sits beside me on the bench.
“How did you know I’d be here?”
Drake pops the top. “Because I still know you. This is where we always go when we need to think. I came to the campground at least a hundred times after Ronnie died.”
Like my teammates, Drake is part of my family. The people who know me best. Maybe we lost it for a bit, but falling back into it has been . . . simple. It’s a piece of security, a comfort I never allowed myself to truly feel outside of my parents. It’s freeing to know there’s no facing the world alone. Not anymore.
“I’m not going to ask you if you’re okay,” Drake says. “Who would be completely fine after that? But I am checking to make sure you’re not up here considering shutting us out.” He pauses. “Mostly Ava. Don’t shut Ava out, Ryder. She doesn’t even consider a single thing that guy says. She’s been trying to call you.”
“I forgot my phone,” I admit. A first. It’s still on my kitchen counter.
“Well, she’s probably going to yell at you for it when you call her.”
The corner of my mouth curls into a smile. “I’m not here to think about what he said.” I lean over my knees. “Let Mitch say what he wants, I don’t . . . I don’t care anymore.”
Drake nods, but his face tells me he’s not entirely convinced. “Did Daniel reach out?”
“I don’t know. He doesn’t ever really get involved. I doubt he will this time. But I’m glad Mitch said what he did,” I say. “It proved something I’ve known all along, but didn’t want to believe, I guess.”
“What’s that?”
“Mitch took his shots, but without fail, I had people taking immediate shots right back.” I tell him about the posts from the Kings. Drake informs me there’s been even more added. Parker’s sister commented on the post from Skye, expressing how over the years I’ve become an older brother she gets to take care of.
Tate Hawkins rarely gets on social media, but he did today to describe our partnership and my sincerity with the youth house. Then, he leaves a scathing paragraph aimed at Mitch about getting educated about mental health, since severe anxiety is a struggle for Tate.
