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“Nope, there’s no one left.” My gut clenches at the reality of the statement. I guess it doesn’t matter what I do anymore. There’s no one to care. I can’t disappoint or embarrass anyone if they’re dead.
“Are you sure, man? A close friend, aunt, grandparent?”
“The only time I met any of my extended family was at my mother’s funeral. I don’t even have contact numbers for them.” I clasp my hands together and release them, then get off the couch to stand in front of the pictures on the wall. There’s nothing here more recent than when Mom was sick. That was what, almost fifteen years ago? I can probably count on my fingers the instances when I actually spent time with Dad after that. Sure, he came to my high school graduation and called when I got picked up in the draft, but he’s never come to a game that I’m aware of. Since I started playing, I think we had dinner once.
Aaron steps up behind me, a smile tugging at his lips as he looks at the happier times of my life.
“That your mom?” He points to a picture of Mom and me with Mickey Mouse ears on at Disneyland when I was about five.
“Yeah.” I smile at the dim memory I have of that trip. “She was amazing.”
“What happened to her?” He’s standing shoulder to shoulder with me now.
“Cancer.”
Aaron wraps his arm around my shoulder again, offering me support and comfort.
“I’m sorry, man.”
I brush it off like it doesn’t matter, but it shaped who I am today. Who I’ve allowed into my life and how I love. The conversation we had on the bus a few weeks ago circles through my head, and it makes me sick.
“Hey, you remember the blond at that food drive thing?”
“Yeah, El, right?” He lifts his glass and takes another drink.
“Elliot.” I suck in a deep breath when he tenses. “His name is Elliot.”
“So not a chick then.”
“Not a chick.”
I turn my head just enough to get a look at his face, waiting for his reaction. Will he be okay with this or punch me in the face? At this point, I wouldn’t pass on a good fight, though Coach would be pissed.
I can see him working through the information in his head, maybe replaying what he saw with a new light on it.
“You can’t have him, so you find someone else close enough when you’re desperate.” The words tumble from his lips like he’s telling me about the forecast, when in fact he’s shining a spotlight on my darkest secret.
“I didn’t realize it until you mentioned it on the bus,” I mumble.
“I’m sorry you can’t have the person you love.” Aaron pulls me into him and gives me a tight hug. I’m so caught off guard that for a second I get my hand with the cup trapped between us and my other hand just hangs limply at my side. “If football is why you think you can’t have him, you’re wrong.”
I wrap my arms around him, dropping the cup, and accept the physical comfort he’s offering me. The pressure in my chest builds until I explode and scream into his shoulder. A loud, earth-shattering, tormented scream. He just holds me tighter, lets me yell and fall apart. My arms tighten around his ribs past the point of pain, my fingers gripping his shirt in a fist until they ache, and my throat burns. He holds me up when my knees threaten to give out.
He doesn’t say much. “Let it out” or “You’re gonna be okay” as I lose my shit all over him. I haven’t felt this kind of acceptance since Marcus died. It hurts but soothes a ragged part of me I haven’t let myself explore. Just shoved it behind a door with my attraction to Eli to fester and die. Only it didn’t die, just got worse. Now it’s infected and pissed off, demanding I acknowledge it.
I don’t know how long I rage against him, my only friend, but he takes all of it without a blink of an eye. By the time I calm back down, his shirt is wet with tears and saliva and scotch.
All of the muscles in my body going weak at the same time as the energy evaporates.
With a rattling breath, I let go of him and step back, wiping at my face.
“We should probably eat,” he says when I open my mouth to apologize.
“There should be meals in the fridge and freezer we can make quickly.” We head for the kitchen, and I stumble as the alcohol takes full control of my brain.
Aaron laughs when I lean against the wall but steers me toward a chair.
“Sit your ass down before you break something.”
