26. Wyatt

Chapter 26

Wyatt

I can't believe I kissed her. I've been withering inside, trying to keep away from Fern for weeks, and then I kissed her. I had to go to the damn study session because I missed class, and she's been very clear that the pass/fail grade for this course is entirely based on attendance. So, then I had to sit and stare at her gorgeous face and brilliant brain as she explained all these concepts to 100 students.

I don't even want one student to look at me, and she stood up there covered adorably in chalk dust while 100 pairs of eyes looked at her.

An unknown number rings my phone as I'm hurrying home from the study session, and I send it to voicemail.

I reach the apartment, stop in the kitchen for a protein bar, and make the mistake of pulling out my phone. I hear Nick's sick voice in the message, telling me he's going to send old videos of him and my mother to the press.

It's all too much: his sneering voice, his threats, the rejection from Fern when she's the one person who has made me feel at ease this entire year. My heart races, and a buzzing sound takes over my awareness. I'm choking on the protein bar, sweating, sinking to the floor in the kitchen, pressing my palms over my ears.

I don't realize I've been shouting until I see Odin's face in front of mine, his hands on my shoulders. I can't hear him, but I see his mouth moving. He's saying my name.

Eventually, he wraps his arms around me. Eventually, I hear his words. "I got you, man. I got you. You're okay, dude."

I don't know how much time passes or how I get to the sofa, but once I can hear and see again, my cousins are all pressed against me, concerned. Odin, Stellen, and Gunnar each have a hand on my body, grounding me. Odin, who should be asleep getting ready for the Black and Gold football game this weekend, pulls me in for a hug and plants a kiss on top of my head. "Cuz, you gotta tell us what's going on. This is scaring us, man."

Stellen holds out my phone. "Can you start by telling us what the fuck this is about?"

I blink at him a few times and then sink back into the couch. I close my eyes. Odin says, "Don't make me call Wes to come over here. He says you've been a moody bastard this entire year, and he's not wrong. He's been checking up on you, man. So, let's have it. We stick together, right?"

I nod and pull up the message transcript. I can't handle hearing his voice again. They all read it, cursing. "He's been at this shit all year. He wants money, I think. Or just wants to win? It all started when I tried to change my name." My cousins all sit rapt, silent, waiting for me to continue. They know how much I hate it when the media brings up my past, but they don't know anything about what's currently happening. I tell them how I've been trying to get my name changed, how initially I had to report it in a newspaper, and that's when he really started harassing me. I tell them how I don't want to sign a pro contract with anything linking me to that piece of scum, how I want to be a full and legal part of the Moyer-Stag clan.

"It doesn't matter to me that my dad has me in his will or whatever. It's not about money to me. It's about belonging."

Odin coughs. "Do you think you don't belong with us? Is that what this is?"

I blink at him. "Not entirely. But sort of. I mean, I'm literally the ugly step-child in this situation."

Stellen groans. "Not one of us cares about who your bio dad is, fucker. Do you think we treat Cara like she's not part of the family? She's stuck with us, dude. And you've heard the stories about how all our dads came through for your dad when your mom got the restraining order on Nick all those years ago."

Stellen stands up. "Actually, I'm calling my dad. And yours. This isn't okay, man."

"Please don't, Stell. Odin, come on. I've been handling this on my own."

Odin stands up with Stellen, and Gunnar joins them. Odin glowers at me. "I found you on the floor in the kitchen having a panic attack, Wyatt. You are not okay. That's just facts."

Stellen steps away, and I hear him murmuring into the phone. When I try to get up and stop him, Odin and Gunnar press me back onto the couch. Odin places a hand on top of my head. "I'll sit on you if I have to, but you're going to stay here and endure a Stag family meeting right the hell now."

Ten minutes later, my dad and uncles Tim, Ty and Thatcher are crammed in our living room, all gray beards and crossed arms and confusion. Uncle Tim passes out a cardboard box full of fancy bubble water. "This situation seemed to call for San Pellegrino," he says.

My dad frowns at him. "Since when do we drink this shit? I thought you were bringing whiskey."

Uncle Ty shakes his head. "The boys are in season, Hawk. You know they have nutrition plans."

Dad rolls his eyes and pops open his drink, wedging his body onto the sofa by mine. "Want to tell us what this is about, son?"

I shake my head. My cousin Wes appears in the doorway, looking disheveled. Dad frowns at him. "You're in season too. You have a fucking game tomorrow. I'm going to bench your ass."

Wes shrugs. "Some things are more important than soccer." He tells the room how I've been withdrawn since at least August and how I confided in him that I heard from Nick months ago.

Dad curses and crumples his empty can. "Does your mother know about this?"

I shake my head. "No, and this is exactly why I didn't want to get any of you involved. Mom has been through enough." Not only did she have to deal with my abusive father for years, but she also dealt with a sexual harassment crisis in professional soccer. She's been stressed up to her ears, and I even ruined her escape to refresh at the ski chalet. I feel sad and defeated as I tell him, "I'm not going to be the one to upset her. Not again."

Dad looks at me strangely and then, quick as a cat, snatches my phone from my hand. He scowls, and I know he's scrolling through my messages. I worry for a moment that he's reading my conversations with Fern, but then I realize he doesn't give a fuck who I'm sleeping with. He's reading the unknown number messages and transcripts from the calls I never deleted out of fear I'd need them for the police. Because I always knew Nick would come for me. I know he's not safe, and he's not mentally healthy.

A wave of shame crests and splashes over me as my Dad reads the messages and sees my inability to get rid of this guy and the potential to bring down this incredible family who never asked for this kind of drama.

Odin catches my eye as I'm twitching on the couch and moves so he's squatting in front of me, his massive body shielding out the noise in the room as people continue yelling. "Wyatt." Odin squeezes my shoulders. "Do you honestly believe this family won't shred anyone who tries to fuck with one of us?"

I shake my head rapidly. "No, that's not it. I–" A sob catches in my throat, and I just keep shaking my head.

Wes and Gunnar circle around me like we're in a huddle waiting for a medic on the field. Odin rests his forehead against mine. "You're not just a regular cousin. You're my brother, man. And I already have enough fucking brothers."

Gunnar flicks him on the cheek, and Odin barely flinches. Wes rests a hand on my heart, the gesture is warm and surprisingly soothing. Wes says, "Did you honestly think we'd kick you out or something? I'll tattoo my name on your chest right now if that's what it takes, bro. We Stags stick together. No matter what."

Gunnar nods. "No matter what."

The four of them manage to hug me tightly and slowly, the adrenaline works its way out of my system. We start breathing in unison, probably because Odin is loudly conducting a breath symphony with his nose, but the impact is huge.

As my dad shouts for Uncle Tim to read things, I expect to feel another panic attack brewing. But … I don't. I feel a sense of calm. Like, I'm finally, actually, in good hands. Thatcher walks around picking up empties for recycling. Uncle Ty shoos Odin and Gunnar to bed. They protest but listen to him. Wes agrees to leave when Uncle Tim announces that he's going to handle this immediately.

"What does that mean," Dad asks. "Handle it?"

Uncle Tim scoffs. He's a sports attorney and usually handles contract issues, but I know he has a long history of getting involved when his pro-athlete clients get tangled up with the law. "We will have a restraining order on file by morning," Tim says. "Nicole Kennedy Brady will oversee a media statement in collaboration with your agent." He looks at me. "Where is Brian in all this? Did you at least loop in your agent?" I shake my head. Tim rolls his eyes so hard I'm worried he'll fall over. "We will control this narrative so tightly, Wyatt. What on earth led you to believe you didn't have the full support of the entire Stag family when this first happened?"

Dad places a hand on Uncle Tim's shoulder, calming him before he launches into a Tim-Tirade. "Thank you, brother, for handling the legal and PR details."

Tim's head recoils in shock. "Of course, I'll handle this. Wyatt, you're my nephew. Nothing is more important than family."

I close my eyes and hear the soft voices of my uncles, and then I hear my apartment door open and close. When I open my eyes, I'm alone in the living room with my dad. And I can't handle the look on his face. "Son," he whispers. I break down in tears.

A sob rips from my throat, the stress of months of these threats and not knowing what to do. Dad is next to me on the couch again, his arm around my shoulders. "Son, your mother and I should have noticed that you were struggling. We should have had your therapists from before on speed dial … or at least kept their cards."

My jaw drops. "Dad, no. You and Mom have been incredible. My whole life, you've been—" A sob catches me off guard as I think about how I loved my dad from the day I met him when I was four. I worshiped him, not just because he was a pro athlete, but because I could tell immediately that he really enjoyed spending time with me. I didn't have words for this stuff as a young kid, but I do now. I see how this family Mom and I found is the real deal, and I'm part of it. For good.

He wraps me in a hug and kisses the top of my head. It's easier for me to talk to him when I'm not looking at his face, so I tell his shirt, "I wanted your name. I wanted it so damn bad. To officially and legally be a full part of this family."

"Wyatt, you've always been my family. You know that."

I nod. "At first, I sort of wanted to surprise you. To sign with a team as Wyatt Moyer, to see my name in ink with a pro team, as the son of the great Hawk Moyer." We both inhale a shaky breath.

He kisses my head again. "You said you made progress on that front?" I nod and explain to him about the student law clinic and how I have a petition for an emergency name change. Dad chuckles, his voice calm and deep, his chest rumbling against mine in this hug. "I'm sure your uncle will get that fast-tracked along with the restraining order."

Dad grins, matching mine. Then his smile fades. "I hate that you know the official terms for these legal situations." We separate but remain next to one another on the couch. Dad lets out a long breath. "I want you to know that you are always more important than anything in my career, son. We're financially secure forever at this point. You know that, right?"

"Ugh. Yeah, Dad. I know."

"Well, then, you have to make me a promise that you won't face anything like this on your own ever again. We move as a herd. Or something like that."

I laugh and stare at the ceiling. "I promise I'll tell you all my troublesome shit from now on."

Dad hums and crosses his arms. I can feel him waiting to say something, practically feel him trying to form the words until he finally asks, "Want to tell me about the woman Birdie and your mother caught you canoodling?" He nudges me with his shoulder. "Or is that a secret, too?"

I cough and wrinkle my nose. "Dad. Come on. Canoodling?"

He shrugs. "Lolly says she's smoking hot."

I drop my head against the back of the couch. "She is. She's really smart, too."

I sit with my father late into the night, telling him about Fern, how I'm not supposed to be with her, how she's moving to England, and I'm hoping to move to Mexico anyway. He listens, squeezes my thigh, and tells me I'll know the right thing to do when the choice arrives.

"Nothing has to be forever, son. Unless you want it to be." He fiddles with his wedding ring, smiling like a sap freshly in love. It should be gross, but I've always appreciated how into each other my parents are. I wish this message had been the one that sunk in rather than the poison Nick always spewed. I wish I had realized sooner who my real family is.

Dad drapes an arm around my shoulder and rests his head against mine. "Do you know how weird it was finding this family as an adult? I spent my entire life with a father-sized hole in my identity, only to learn I had three brothers."

I smile, trying to imagine what it looked like when Hawk Moyer showed up at a Stag family dinner for the first time. "That must have been a shock to your system."

"Ha! Your Uncle Ty made me go running with them. After a full day of training."

I smile at the thought, even as my thighs ache in sympathy. The four of them still go running together at least once a week, making laps around Highland Park, squabbling. I swallow another lump of nerves and ask, "When did you … accept that you were part of it? Like, really part of it?"

Dad hums and smiles. "They had to force me." He squeezes me. "But I think it was when they all showed up together in court for you and your mom. That was when I realized they were here with me for my dark times as well as my happy sports star moments. You know?"

I don't know how I grew up around all of this unwavering support and love and still managed to cling to the idea that I'm an outsider in their midst. Exhaustion muddles my thinking, and I fall asleep next to my dad on the couch, trusting–for now–that I have his support and that of my entire extended family.

I knew all along that they'd drop everything if I asked them to, but I never wanted to be the cause of any stress for them. But my dad is right—with all of them swinging their collective resources together, there is no need to think any of us will go down for this. I should have realized that they'd want to help me, just like I want to help them, whether I'm hauling their asses to Costco or helping Wes chase down the love of his life after a misunderstanding.

When I wake up, the afterglow of support is still with me. I feel hopeful that I can finally move forward with my life on my own terms and that I have the potential for the sort of future I always dreamed of.

Except, the dream of making a name for myself in Guadalajara doesn't feel as bright as it once did. I think instead of Fern's face after I kissed her. She's balancing on a thin wire, and she doesn't have all of this family support that I do. Who and what will pull her back if her involvement with me threatens her goals?

Maybe my dad is wrong about that part of it. I can see the woman I want to be with, and I have no fucking idea how to make that happen without destroying either of our paths.