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“Scarlett and her family have been pretty tight-lipped about things, so I’m sorry I don't have any updates on her for you.” He pauses. “I even tried calling her dad’s job a few times and pretending to be a long lost family member, but he didn't fall for that at all.”
I hold back a laugh. “Don't you meanTully?”
“No,” he says. “I’ve known it was you and Scarlett for a while.”
Silence.
Despite calling him as often as possible and seeing him in the visiting room once a week, I’ve never ever mentioned Scarlett.
It hurts too fucking much.
“How did you know?”
“Give me some credit, son,” he says. “I wasn't born yesterday.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I saw you with her after games,” he says. “Tully doesn't own a band uniform, and I know she would never willingly go visit our old cabin all those times.”
“Why didn't you ever say anything?”
“There was nothing to say…Besides, I was drunk off my ass most of the time, and you wouldn't have taken anything. I said seriously.”
He's probably right. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“The warden said my clemency would be made public and that I should brace for news crews, but I didn't see anyone out there.”
“Youwantto see those parasites?”
“Not really.”
“Well, it won't be made public until the end of next week, but ... I may have promised his office a small thing that we can discuss later.”
I roll my eyes. “Please tell me you didn't mention that I'll consider Ole Miss after all this? Seriously Dad. I hate your alma mater and you've got to let that go.”
“Ha! I didn't even mention college.” He punches the glove compartment and tons of envelopes fall to the floor. “When news got out that the governor was considering you for clemency, every fucking team in the NFL started sending letters.”
“Why would they ever want a felon on their team?”
“You mean in addition to other felons that they already have?” He jokes. “You’re asking the wrong question, son.”
He pats my shoulder. “Whowouldn'twant Easton Rush on their team?”
51
EASTON
After dropping my dad off at home, I speed onto the highway. The extended care facility that Tully mentioned in her “last letter” is five hours away, but I don't care.
I have to see her.
Ineedto see her.
Not hearing her voice and feeing her skin while I was at her side in the hospital was bad enough, and despite all this time that’s passed, I refuse to believe she wants us to be over.
The mere idea of her being on the mend and wanting me to move on without her is infuriating.
