by T. K. Rapp
I thought my eyes were playing a trick on me, because Dani wouldn’t be at my football game. I saw her in the first quarter, but kept focused on the game, delivering one of the best openings of my career. When halftime arrived, I couldn’t ignore the pull to look into the stands again. I didn’t spot her and knew I was losing my mind. I don’t recall a thing Coach said in the locker room, because I was replaying the last time I had seen Dani and wishing it had been different for us.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so disappointed in you,” Mom chastised when she walked into the room. “Why did you talk to her like that?”
“Mom, please. Don’t.”
It had only been a day and a half, but I was antsy and being tethered to a machine that would do nothing to get me back on the field pissed me off.
“Don’t speak to me like that,” Mom warned. “First you lash out at the doctors and now Dani…I raised you better than that. You didn’t have to be so rude.”
“Look, she’s the one who wanted to end things for her career. I’m just giving her what she wanted all along.”
Waking up and seeing Dani by my side when my eyes opened had meant everything to me. Unfortunately, my happiness at seeing her was short-lived. I knew my words had hurt Dani, but how could I console her when I’d had everything I knew taken away? Looking at her pissed me off. It was misdirected, but I didn’t care.
“You’re not giving her what she wants. You’re being stubborn and taking the easy way out.”
“How are you going to tell me what she wants? I was there. She wanted a break.”
“And have you talked to her since? No. I didn’t think so. But I have.”
“What?” I leaned forward, curious by the revelation. “When?”
“It doesn’t matter when—point is I talked to her when you didn’t, and she was miserable. She went to that game to support you doing something you love, because she loves you. That’s what someone does when they love someone else—they compromise, they sacrifice, they step out of their comfort zone.”
“How was I supposed to know? I haven’t heard anything from her since I left her house. Nothing.”
“And did you reach out to her? Did you tell her that when you walked out of her door that night, you waited on the porch for her to come after you? Did you tell her that you regretted that you’d even walked out in the first place?”
“I don’t want to talk about this. Not right now.”
“Mom, can I talk to him alone?” Abbi asked.
Mom nodded and left the room and I knew I was in for another verbal lashing. Abbi waited until the door closed behind Mom and walked over, slapping my bicep.
“What was that for?” I demanded, rubbing the spot she hit.
“For being a jerk. I get that you’re pissed and all, but that doesn’t excuse your behavior. If you don’t want to be with Dani, then you need to man up and tell her, but don’t pretend that you’re giving her what she wants.”
“So you’re her fan now? Last week, you wouldn’t shut up about how selfish she was about the whole break thing.”
“That was before she dropped everything to be by your side.”
I rolled my eyes and reached for the TV remote that was on the bedside table, but Abbi snatched it from my hand and moved it away. I glared at my sister, who was supposed to have my back, and she looked at me with pure disappointment.
“For the last two years, I’ve heard every reason for you not being involved. You don’t want to date ‘regular’ girls because you don’t know what their intentions are. You don’t want to date athletes because of conflicting schedules. You don’t want to date celebrities like Natasha because it’s all about using you for the attention. Well I hate to point it out, but Dani is perfect for you. She loves you in spite of who you are.”
“Yeah. I know,” I muttered.
“So what are you gonna do about it?”
“I can’t deal with this right now. I just want to talk to the doctors and see what I can do, how can I get back to playing.”
“And if you can’t?”
“If I can’t?” I thought for a moment and shook my head. “I can’t think about that right now. Okay?”
***
Abbi and Mom drove me to see Doctor Reynolds, the orthopedist. He threw around a mouthful of big words that amounted to a bunch of nothing as far as I was concerned. None of them told me how I could get back on the field.
But I already knew.
The moment I heard the pop on the field, I realized my career was over. I didn’t want to believe it and hoped to God I was wrong, but I knew it.
The exam room was heavy with unsaid words, and it was my fist connecting with the table that broke the silence. Mom’s eyes were sad, and she walked over to console me but I shook my head shortly.
“Not right now, Mom.”
“I’m sorry, honey. I wish there were something I could say or do to make this better for you.”
“What about my team? What am I supposed to tell them?”
“Coach already knows,” she reminded me.
Abbi was pacing back and forth when she stopped abruptly and turned to face me. “This isn’t the end of the world, T. Yeah, it fucking sucks, but you can still walk and do the things you want to do.”
“What else do I have, Abbi? Football has been my life since I was a kid. I don’t know anything else,” I argued.
Mom stood next to the table and reached for my hand. I knew she had something to say but was gauging my mood before speaking. She had a way of grounding me, without being insulting, but sometimes it was hard to hear. I knew this was one of those times before she ever opened her mouth.
“Football isn’t your life. It’s what you do.”
“I know,” I conceded. “It’s not the end of the world.”
Mom shook her head and smiled, her eyes wet with tears. “Do you remember why you start playing football?”
I didn’t answer; we both knew why I had started playing. I was an angry kid and fighting became my outlet because of the bullying. I was a scrawny kid that stuttered, always picked on. But they stopped picking when I punched Riley Connors square in the nose. Unfortunately my newfound strength spurred me to seek out trouble, until Dad put an end to it.
“You can’t just go around picking fights every day. You will come up against someone bigger or stronger, and then what? If you like hitting so much, play football. Channel that energy into something productive,” Dad challenged.
I was only eight and had never really thought about playing football, but Dad put his time into teaching me.
We spent almost every afternoon throwing the ball around, Dad coaching my form. As I got bigger our training moved to a gym, where I started lifting weights with Dad encouraging me to continue.
And then he got sick.
He wasn’t able to go outside with me anymore, and trips to the gym were nonexistent. But I did everything I could to keep going, because Dad was proud of what we had accomplished.
When he died, it was the only thing I had left.
“Before your dad died, the two of you were always outside, but football was never your passion. You liked spending time with your dad,” Mom said, breaking my thoughts.
“Yeah, I did.”
“And he loved spending time with you. But football was his dream for you because it gave you something to do. Maybe it’s time you figure out what it is you want.”
I huffed and considered her words, but came up with nothing. Football had been my focus for so long that I hadn’t thought of anything else until I’d started my foundation.
“Your dad would be proud of you,” Mom said. “Everything you’ve accomplished is beyond anything we imagined for you. But the game isn’t worth your health, Tabor. You’ll find something else that sparks your interest, and knowing you, you’ll be great at it too.”
“Easy on the ego, Mom,” Abbi teased. “He’s not perfect.”
“No, he’s not. Far from it, actually,” Mom said
as she squeezed my hand.
“How did we go from talking about how awesome I am to how much I suck?”
“No one said you suck, honey.” Mom smiled.
“Surgery,” I scoffed, repeating the doctor’s words. I was no stranger to the scalpel, but allowing them to do what they were suggesting would essentially end my football career.
“Any idea what you want to do with the rest of your life, T?” Abbi said.
“Well, considering I was told only an hour ago that I officially need a career change, I might need some time. Like at least a day,” I deadpanned.
“Okay, well I was thinking maybe you could be a car salesman…you know, if the modeling thing doesn’t work out. Or what about rodeo clown?” Abbi mocked, and I laughed.
“No rodeo-clowning, but maybe he could be a boring suit-and-tie guy. Can you imagine him sitting still all day?” Mom asked.
“He wouldn’t last for more than an afternoon,” Abbi snorted. “He needs something active. Like water aerobics.”
Mom and Abbi kept making jokes and I welcomed the distraction. I needed their words to remind me that I had things more important than sports to keep me going.
“Football might be ending, but how many people get the chance to start over and find something they really love?” Mom asked. “Whatever comes next, I think you’re going to do amazing.”
“You know what you’d be really good at?” Abbi asked, all traces of humor gone from her tone. She looked at Mom, and it was as if they were having a conversation made of weird eye twitches.
“Just say it,” I demanded, forcing a laugh.
She looked at Mom and raised a brow before looking at me again. “Coaching.”
One word. But it held endless possibilities. In a way, I did coach already. Whether it was with my teammates or the kids that my foundation helped, it was something that came naturally to me. Mom grabbed her things and walked to the door with Abbi, leaving me to consider my options. Before she walked out, she turned to face me and flashed her knowing smile.
“We’ll be waiting in the lobby,” Mom said. “But I want you to think about something else.”
“What’s that?”
“When you picture the next phase, is Dani a part of that future or not?”
C h a p t e r 30
T A B O R
After four days of hobbling around on crutches to keep the weight off my knee, I was finally able to walk on my own. From the outside, I looked well enough to get back on the field and do what I did best—crush people. But inside my body was another story. When I calmed down and took stock of what was going on, I spoke with Doctor Reynolds again—first apologizing for being a jerk, and then to find out what the best option was for my situation.
My agent was hounded with requests for interviews, and the foundation had seen a huge increase in calls as well. Unfortunately, not all of them were to help the kids we served.
Mom and Abbi were waiting for me because I had a press conference that I needed to attend with Coach. The night before, I had turned on the evening news and caught Kip Stanley reporting from outside of Quakes Sportsplex where he began telling the city the latest on my condition.
“In a press conference with Coach Jackson this afternoon, he updated fans on JT Hunter’s status. If you’ll recall, he sustained an injury during the third quarter of the season opener.”
“JT will have to undergo surgery on his knee at some point, but right now, he’s fine. Unfortunately, it means we’re without a critical player,” Coach Jackson said.
My teammates were supportive and offered to help in any way they could, but we knew there was nothing left. I’d have to go clean out my locker, and the plan was to go when no one was around. I wanted to see the guys and wish them luck on the rest of the season, but seeing me was a reminder of what could happen to them. I’d see them, but I’d be stronger and in better spirits because I didn’t need or want their pity.
As for Dani, we hadn’t spoken since she’d left my house. It was nearly a week and a half since we’d argued at her condo and four days since I was admitted to the hospital. At my request, Mom and Abbi agreed not to contact Dani. They weren’t happy with me, but what happened between Dani and me was our business, and I needed to take care of it on my own. If we had any chance of fixing the mess we’d created, we needed to do it alone—with no outside input or meddling.
“You ready for this?” Abbi asked as we walked toward the door that led to the press conference.
“Let’s just get this over with,” I grumbled as we stepped into the room.
Several of the local news reporters were waiting to get their sound bite for the late news, and I had to face the music. Mom and Abbi stood off to the side, prepared for the onslaught.
Coach Jackson walked in and we took the two seats available while flashes were going off.
“JT, how are you feeling?” one female reporter asked, louder than the others.
“I’m doing good. Better every day.” I smiled. “Thanks.”
“Is it true you’re out for the rest of the season?” the familiar voice of Kip Stanley asked.
“No,” I answered before quickly adding, “I’m out for good. No more football for me.”
There was indecipherable chatter among the reporters and the onlookers, making me feel uncomfortable.
“How do you feel about that?” Kip followed up.
“It sucks. I’ve enjoyed playing and the Quakes are my second family. The guys, the staff, the fans—I’m going to miss all of it.”
“Coach, what are you going to do without Hunter?”
Coach patted my back and smiled for the cameras. “There’s no replacing a player like this guy. He’s one of a kind and his teammates are going to miss him.”
“JT! Do you have anything to say to the San Diego fans?”
I looked over to see Mom and Abbi smiling proudly and I nodded my head toward them. “Playing here, in this city, has been a dream come true, and I want to thank everyone for the support and making my time here the best. Your emails and well wishes mean more than you know.”
The questions continued for another ten minutes, most asking the same thing in a different way. I enjoyed it because I knew it would be my last, and I was still trying to come to terms with that reality.
Mom, Abbi, and I walked to the waiting SUV, putting a temporary end to the speculation about what had happened to JT Hunter.
I climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine, gripping the steering wheel tightly. We remained still for a bit and then I glanced in the rearview mirror, meeting Mom’s eyes.
“I need to make a stop before we go home,” I told them.
***
It was already seven when we got to Dani’s condo, but from the light flickering off her TV, I knew she was home. An uncomfortable silence settled in the car when I turned the engine off, and for a moment I second-guessed what I was about to do.
“I’ll be right back,” I said to them before stepping out.
“Go,” Abbi demanded with a toothy grin.
When Mom had posed the question of whether I saw Dani in my future, the immediate answer was yes. I knew it the night I’d walked out of her condo, and I knew it as soon as she’d shown up to the hospital and tried to see me. Dani belonged in my future—of that I was certain. But I needed to tell her myself when I could stand in front of her and look into her eyes. Angry and bitter while I tried to come to terms with my future was not the right time. Besides, after my shitty attitude and the way I’d lashed out when I was told I was done with football, I needed to apologize to her.
I walked up the steps and took a breath before I knocked on the door. The porch light turned on and I stepped back so I wasn’t intruding on her personal space, only it wasn’t a woman’s figure approaching the other side of the door. When it swung open, a blond-haired man, thinner and much smaller in stature, stood in front of me.
“I should have called,” I muttered, feeling like an idiot. “I was
just stopping by to see Dani for a second.”
The guy remained still, his jaw slack, and he didn’t say anything but I could tell he recognized me. I extended my hand and he hesitated before shaking mine.
“JT,” I said. “Sorry to interrupt. I just…can you tell…never mind.”
I turned and started walking down the steps, but paused and looked over my shoulder at the man who was still staring at me.
“Treat her good, man. Don’t let her get away. Trust me, you’ll regret it if you do.”
He remained frozen in place, not saying anything, but as I turned to walk to the car, I saw someone walking downstairs. The moment I spotted Dani, I knew I had to at least walk over and say hello, so I did.
“What are you doing here?” she asked as she walked toward me.
“I just got out finished with my press conference…I wanted to see you,” I said.
“Yeah, I saw…How are you?” She stepped forward, looking for visible signs of injury.
There was at least five feet between us and I hated it. I wanted to hug her, to tell her everything I had thought about since she’d left my room the other day. But it wasn’t fair to her because she had company.
“I’m okay, I guess. Better.” I smiled and nodded my head toward the audience behind us. “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”
Anything.
The word ripped something inside of me, but I didn’t have the right to be mad or jealous. In my quest to do right by her, my silence told her that I was done. What was she supposed to do?
“You’re not interrupting anything, Tabor.” She smiled and looked over her shoulder. “Will, get Vi, come meet Tabor.”
“Will?” I repeated, recalling the names I’d heard Dani talk about before. I knew that Vi and Will lived an hour or so away, but until that moment I’d never met them.
“Yeah, his band had a gig here last night, so he and Vi stayed with me.”
A surge of relief shot through me and I stepped forward, almost reaching for her hand, but I didn’t want to overstep. I wasn’t sure where things stood with us and it wasn’t my place to be presumptuous.
