Dinner is lonely without his company, and for the first time ever, I wish I had a dog to distract me. I should pull out my laptop and check my emails once more, but I don’t feel like I’d be able to concentrate. Glancing around his living room, I take mental notes on what I’d add to make this space feel more welcoming. My mental notes turn into actual notes on my phone. Before I know it, I have a long list of suggestions.
And then, since it’s still early, I get the bright idea to run to the home store and shop for some of the items.
Two hours later, I’m unpacking my purchases and there’s still been no word from Flynn. I’m starting to get extremely concerned. I didn’t want to bother him in case he was busy, but it’s been almost twenty-four hours since we’ve spoken. I need to know he’s okay.
I call his number and it rings, once, twice, three times and he answers. “Hello.” His voice is hoarse.
“Flynn, are you okay?”
“Who’s this?” he asks.
Wait a minute. Is he slurring?
“It’s Nadia.”
“Oh, hey, Nadia.”
“Flynn, I haven’t heard from you all day.”
“I’ve been busy.”
Busy drowning your sorrows? I want to spit those words out, but I don’t. I won’t be spiteful when he’s doing the best he can to deal with the death of his grandfather. Or to not deal with it. I guess it depends on who you ask.
“I know, which is why I waited until now to call you.”
“Do you need somefin’?” he asks. Fuck. He’s really banged up.
“Where are you?” I ask.
“At some bar with my new friend.” New friend? What does that mean?
“How are you getting home?”
“Kendra is coming to get me. Or maybe I’ll let my new friend take me home.”
“If your new friend has been drinking, that’s not a good idea. You should call Kendra.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna embarrassss you.”
“Who said anything about that? I just want you to be safe.” I hear voices in the background and he says something to them I can’t quite understand.
“I gotta go.”
“Where are you going?” I ask, worried.
“Not sure. Bye, Nadia.”
“Flynn,” I shout, but he’s gone. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This isn’t good. This isn’t good at all. He’s out in a bar in Boston, drunk off his ass, and I’m not with him to make sure he gets home safely. If he’s not careful, he’ll lose his job over this. I don’t think Ed’s going to care that his bender was motivated by his grandfather’s passing.
What should I do? Should I fly up there? No, I’m being ridiculous. He’s a grown man and he can take care of himself.
Are you sure about that? This is Flynn. I might be in love with the guy, but I still recognize his shortcomings. While he’s this upset about losing his grandfather, it’s not the time to test his decision-making ability.
But I don’t even know for sure where he’s staying. He was planning on staying with his parents, but that could’ve changed by now. And Kendra is with him. Wouldn’t she make sure he doesn’t get into trouble? I guess there’s one way I can find out. I pull up Kendra’s name in my contact list and call her.
“Hello.”
“Kendra, it’s Nadia.”
“Hey, what’s up?”
“I’m sorry about your grandfather.”
“Thank you. It’s been rough.”
“Yeah, I can imagine. That’s kind of what I'm calling you about. Have you any idea where Flynn might be?”
“I dropped him off at a bar a few hours ago.”
“And you didn’t stay with him?” My voice climbs higher with each word.
“No, why would I?”
“Kendra, your brother is grieving.”
“Yes, and so am I.”
“I know you are, but you don’t have the self-destructive streak that your brother does. I just spoke to him and he’s trashed. He was talking about his new friend and having them drive him home. I don’t think that sounds like a good idea.”
“Oh crap. I’ll go get him.”
“He’s probably going to need you to look out for him while he’s up there. Your grandfather meant a lot to him. We both know how Flynn deals with problems.”
“He makes new ones?” Kendra asks.
“Bingo. And if he makes new ones, or even a single one, he’s going to lose his job. He’s already been warned by Mr. Benson.”
“Oh fuck. I’ll call you when I have him in my car.”
“Thanks.”
“Bye.”
I fall onto my back on the couch and groan. Why does Flynn have to be so complicated?
Why can’t he just do what he’s supposed to?
Is it too much to ask that he not be self-destructive?
I know he’s sad about his grandfather, but ruining his own life isn’t going to help him move beyond it. He’ll just be ashamed of his behavior as well as sad about his grandpa. Why can’t he realize this on his own? I don’t want to be his voice of reason.
I’m coming to the realization I’ve got my work cut out for myself with Flynn. If we’re going to have a future, I need to accept him the way he is. He may never be the kind of man who makes solid decisions in a crisis.
Am I okay with being the bug in his ear reminding him to make good choices and do the responsible thing?
* * *
My phone alerts me of a text from Kendra and I open it up.
Kendra: Sorry it took me so long to get back to you. He wasn’t being cooperative and I had to call in reinforcements.
Me: What does that mean?
Kendra: I called up a friend of his and had him come to the bar. Together we convinced him to leave and I brought him back to my parents’ house. Oh, and my parents are really pleased about his behavior too.
This whole situation saddens me. He’s been doing so well. I can’t help but partly blame myself for not being there for him. If I had, he wouldn’t have spent the night at a bar. I could’ve talked him off the ledge.
Me: Did he get into any trouble?
Kendra: Not that I could see.
Me: Thank God for that.
Kendra: I’ve gotta go take a shower and wash the bar smell off me.
Me: Thanks for the update and for getting him.
Kendra: I shouldn’t have dropped him off, I guess.
Me: That’s not your fault. He’s an adult.
Kendra: He’s supposed to be anyway. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.
Me: Yes, please keep me up to date. Night.
I’m less anxious now that I know Flynn is safely at home. It sounds like nothing outrageous took place. His job should still be secure. I’ll talk to him tomorrow and make sure he’s in a better head space. If he isn’t, I’ll fly up there to be the shoulder he needs to lean on.
* * *
I’m sipping my first cup of coffee in the morning at my desk and scrolling through my social media pages. I haven’t checked them in ages and I’m procrastinating. I’m having a hard time concentrating and working is the last thing I want to do.
What’s this? TMC has tagged me. I click on the notification and it brings me to a post with the headline--LOOK WHO’S UP TO HIS OLD TRICKS. Underneath the headline is a picture of a pretty redheaded woman and Flynn. She’s leaning into him and he’s smiling at her. My stomach flip flops. I force myself to read the attached article.
What’s Flynn Shaughnessy doing back in Boston? And who’s the mystery lady by his side? Does this mean that the relationship between Shaughnessy and his agent Nadia Patel is over? Or is this a case of football’s bad boy reverting back to his old self?
Tears clouding my vision, I slam my laptop shut. I cover my mouth, smothering the sound of my crying. How could he do this to me? After all that we’ve shared, I never imagined this happening. Was I naive to think that fidelity wouldn’t be an issue? I don’t think he had sex with her, but that doesn’t mean the intent wa
sn’t there. That picture reveals interest on the woman’s part, and it sure didn’t look like Flynn was upset about it.
24
Flynn
“Flynn, you're seriously fucked,” Kendra supplies. “You should move away before you lose your dick.”
“What are you going on about?” I ask and she hands over her phone. Looking down at the screen, an image catches my attention. It’s me and the redheaded woman who kept talking my ear off. She was annoying as fuck, but for some reason, I’m smiling at her in the picture. And the way she’s flirtatiously leaning toward me is misleading. I spent most of my night talking to an older dude I met. I can’t remember his name for the life of me.
“You better pray Nadia doesn’t see this.”
“She never pays attention to social media,” I say confidently.
“Even if she doesn’t see it, someone might point it out to her,” Kendra tells me.
“I’m gonna give her a call in a few. I’ll make sure she knows what happened.”
“She wasn’t happy last night when we spoke.”
“Wait. When did you speak to her?”
“While you were at the bar. She called you and it was obvious you were shitfaced. You kept mentioning your ‘new friend’ and said you were getting a ride from them. If I’m her and I see this picture, I’m assuming this is your ‘new friend’.”
My eyes stay on the image as I take in all that Kendra said. Fuck. This could look a lot worse than I thought.
“Oh, by the way, in case you don’t remember, tonight we’re supposed to be at C’s Pub at six o’clock.”
“I remember seeing Clancy, but I don’t remember that part.”
“Do you remember the part where you got your ass tattooed?”
“What?” My hand goes to the back of my jeans and Kendra laughs.
“Just kidding. But next time you get fucked up, it’s going down,” she promises.
I rub my sore forehead. “There won’t be a next time.”
“Promises, promises,” she tuts, walking from the room.
I’m apprehensive about calling Nadia. I slowly sip my coffee and try to piece together in my mind how the night went. My parents walk in and set a bag of takeout down on the table.
“We thought you might like some breakfast,” Mom says, placing a cardboard container in front of me.
I smile and say, “Thank you.” Opening the top, I find a greasy bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich. “This looks amazing.”
Both my parents sit down and I feel like I’m surrounded. Is this an intervention?
“How’s everything going, son?” my dad asks.
“Football has been great.”
“What about the rest of your life?” Mom asks.
My eyebrows hop upward. This might be an intervention.
Taking a bite of the sandwich, I stall. Since I’m not sure why they’re pretending to be interested, I might as well make them sweat a little. “Life is great. I’m living the dream.”
“Your sister said you have a lovely girlfriend.” Mom smiles at me.
“I do.” At least I hope I still do. “She’s amazing. You guys would love her.”
“Maybe we can meet her at some point,” Dad chimes in.
What the fuck is going on here?
I set the sandwich down. “Okay, what’s the deal with you two?”
“What do you mean?” Mom asks.
“Why all the interest in my life?”
“We’re always interested in what you’re doing,” Dad replies.
“No, you’re not. You like to tell me what I’m doing wrong or could do better. You rarely ask me anything, and you guys prefer to assume the worst of me.” I keep my calm, but I don’t pull any punches. It feels good to get it off my chest.
“Flynn, we love you. Of course we care what you’re doing. And we’re your parents, of course we offer unsolicited advice.” Mom shrugs.
“You’ve never been one who appreciated advice. You liked to learn for yourself, and after a while, we stopped butting heads with you about it. Your mom and I figured we’d let you do your thing and if you needed us, we’d be here for you.”
“And I never did.”
My mother nods. “But that’s not a bad thing. You were always so confident and sure you were going to do great things. And now you have. We’re so proud of you.”
Leaning my elbows on the table, I brace my head in my hands for a moment. When I look up, I know I have tears in my eyes. “I always felt like both of you didn’t love me.”
“Why would you think that?” Dad asks.
“I was the problem child, the challenging one who questioned everything. I made everything harder than it had to be. If you told me to do one thing, I did the other.”
“That didn’t make us love you any less, Flynn. It just made us worry about you,” Mom says.
“I always felt like the two of you loved each other so much you didn’t have enough left over for Kendra and me.”
My dad laughs. “Your mother and I thought if we showed how in love we were it would set a good example for you guys. We were hoping you’d find a love as strong as ours has been.”
“Jesus, I feel like a fool. I’ve been wrong about so many things.” I shake my head, my watering eyes bouncing between my parents. “I’m sorry.”
My mom notices my emotional distress and places her hand over mine. “What do you have to be sorry for?”
“For being a horrible son.” A tear falls down my cheek, and my mom slides her chair over closer to mine. She places her arm around me while I wipe the wetness away with my forearm.
“You’re the only son we want, Flynn. We love you.”
I have a golf ball sized lump of emotion in my throat now. I couldn’t speak if my life depended on it.
“Your mom’s right. We’re so proud to have you as our son, and not because you play for the Pirates. Although, that’s pretty fucking awesome for a dad to be able to say about his son.” He grips my forearm, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“I love you guys,” I say, my voice cracking like a pubescent teenager. “I think I’ve been wrong about so many things.”
“We love you too. You’re not the only one who was wrong. As your parents, the blame falls on us. We failed at showing you how much we love you. We’ll have to do a better job going forward,” Dad says.
“When do we get to visit with you and Nadia?” Mom asks.
“Here’s the thing. I may have fucked up last night.”
“Tell us what happened. If there’s one area your father and I can offer advice, it’s relationships. We might be able to help.”
* * *
Pausing on the sidewalk, I pull out my phone and turn to Kendra. “Let me try texting Nadia, since she hasn’t answered any of my calls.”
Me: Nadia, I’ve been calling you all day. I’m worried. Please answer me.
I send the message and hope she’ll reply. But if Kendra’s right, and she saw that picture of me at the bar, I’m not surprised she’s ghosting me.
My sister and I walk into C’s, our favorite pub from our Boston University days, and shouts greet us. There’s a table in the corner with a few familiar, beaming faces.
Owen jumps to his feet and hugs me. “Hey.”
“It’s great to see you,” I say, slapping him on the chest.
Then it’s Trevor’s turn to give me a backbreaking hug. And finally, Clancy stands. He catches my hand, pulling me in for a quick slap on the back/hug. “Sorry about last night,” I say.
“Oh, dude, don’t even go there. You’ve had my back more times than I can remember.”
“Yeah, but that was back in college. Thanks for helping Kendra out.”
“Anytime,” he replies.
Once Kendra has been passed around for hugs, we all sit down. Condolences are offered from each of them and then we get down to enjoying our mini reunion.
Clancy grabs a pitcher of beer and I look around. Everything is the same, as if we’ve retrea
ted into the past. It’s a mind fuck.
“This place never changes.” I sip my beer.
Trevor raises his glass to his lips in a silent toast. “I know. Isn’t it great?”
“So with all the buzz, I couldn't help but notice you’re dating your very attractive agent,” Owen mentions.
“Yep. Nadia,” Kendra answers for me. “She’s awesome. Way too good for Flynn.”
“Thank you, Kendra,” I droll.
“It’s not like we’re not all thinking it already,” Clancy quips.
“Trevor, how’s Grace doing?” Kendra asks.
“She’s great. The kids are keeping her busy.”
“What about Eliza?” Kendra directs her question to Owen
“She’s doing well. Beatrice and the twins are a lot to handle, but she makes it look easy.”
I tap Clancy’s arm. “How are Tenley and Molly?”
He grins. “My girls are amazing.”
“You don’t ever feel trapped or restless?” I ask, keeping my voice down. Clancy is the one I feel most comfortable talking about personal stuff with.
He shakes his head. “Never. I’ve got a beautiful wife who loves me as much as I love her. And once we had Molly, she brought us together even more. It’s like parenting together pushed us to another level. It might not be that way for everyone who has kids, but it works for us. And we didn’t have the average beginning either.”
“So you never panic because you’re married with a daughter?”
“Dude, I panic one hundred times a day about that, but not in the way you’re probably thinking.” He adjusts his ball cap lower on his forehead. There’s not much of a crowd due to the early hour, but we’re all wearing caps to avoid being recognized. “I’m the man of the family and my girls are my responsibility. I have to make sure they’re safe and provided for. There are always reasons to worry about them, but that worry is worth the payoff of having them in my life. There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t think about how blessed I am.”
CHANGING THE PLAYER: Charleston Pirates #1 Page 16
