20. Wes

TWENTY

There isnothing like the atmosphere before a football game—a semi-final one at that. I don't think I've seen so many pissed-off faces in my life. We've been breaking our backs all week training and trying our hardest to work together, but nothing is fucking working.

My dad has laid off me slightly since our talk, but there"s still this look in his eye like he's waiting for me to snap. Honestly, I'm waiting for it too. I have no idea what will happen after this game, and I have no clue what I'm going to do with my life. Maybe I don't have to have a backup plan even when everybody else does.

The expression on Connor's face right now could give my dad a run for his money.

I've hardly spent a day away from Connor since we were born. Even though I can torment him for my own personal gain, I love him like a brother. He's always treated me like that, but he's also got this overprotective energy that makes me feel like he's talking down to me and like I can't figure my shit out on my own. I know he means well, but I feel like such a fuck-up compared to him.

"Hey, look," he starts. Finally. He's ready to head out onto the field, but he's been circling me for the past few minutes, and I just need him to spit out whatever it is he has to say to me. "I want to apologise for the other day. I've got no right to tell you how to fix your relationship with your dad. I don't want to be fighting with you, Wes."

I look up at him from my position on the bench. "We're not fighting."

"We're not?"

"No, because surprisingly, Connor, what's going on isn't about you or what you said," I explain, leaning down to do up my laces.

"Then what's going on? You've been shutting yourself off from me, from everyone, for weeks. I know you're going to hate me saying this, but I'm worried about you." My head snaps up to him, and I try my hardest to keep my cool.

"Don't be." He just continues staring at me and I take a deep breath. Might as well rip off the Band-Aid now, I guess. "I've been thinking about it, and I don't think football is for me anymore."

Connor scoffs. "What are you talking about?"

"I don't want what you want, Con," I explain, leaning back. "I don't want to go into the NFL and work myself until there's nothing left of me. This isn"t… This isn't fun for me anymore."

He laughs incredulously, shaking his head as if this is a joke to him. "Are you being serious?"

My jaw clenches. "Yes, I'm being serious."

"Then what are you going to do? Quit? Because I don't think that Lit degree is going to get you very far," he says, still shaking his head. Is he being serious?

I stand to my full height. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing. I just–"

"Look, if you don't believe that I can make something of myself outside of football, I'd rather you just say that." Connor just blinks at me. "Exactly." My dad's voice booms through the walls as he beckons Connor to get out of the changing room. I tilt my head at him. "Seems like you've got some very serious captain business to take care of, pretty boy."

He grabs his helmet from the bench, muttering, "Don't be like this, Wes."

I barge past him, shoving him in the shoulder. "Let's just get on with the fucking game already."

I've never been more agitated and on edge in my life. I've spent the last few days since talking with my dad, trying to find something else I can do for my last year of Drayton in the fall. The more days that pass, the closer I feel like I'm going to get to graduation with no direction after that. I hardly know where I'm going after this game, never mind when graduation comes.

I swear I try my hardest to focus. I correct every mistake Coach throws at me, and even with the triumphant cheers from the crowd, nothing is clicking. It's a fucking mystery how we've managed to pull through for this long. It seems like other teams across the country are dealing with the same decline we have, but we've still managed to come on top.

Until we don't.

I hang my head low when we're back in the locker rooms. I can"t look at my dad right now. He might be okay with me not wanting to do this anymore, but that doesn't stop him from looking at me and the rest of the team with a disappointed look on his face.

"To say I'm disappointed is an understatement." My dad's voice echoes off the walls. We're all eerily silent as we peel off our clothes, and the only sound is the steady thrum of the showers and my dad's voice. "I've been coaching some of you since you came to the campus whilst you were still in high school. I thought we were better than this, but apparently not. That is the worst performance I have witnessed in my life."

I flinch at his words.

Sam sighs beside me. "What did you want us to do, coach? We tried."

"You didn't try hard enough, Cho. If you did, you wouldn't be sitting in here with your heads down looking like abandoned puppies," Coach booms. "You have the next rest of the month to recover from whatever the fuck that was, but I want to see you back in the weight room and on the field by February. If I don't see any improvements by March, I'll be reconsidering some of your positions on the team. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, Coach," we all respond in unison.

I thought the silence would break once my dad left the room, but it didn't. We continue silently working around each other, getting ready to return home. I couldn't even bear to look at Nora and the girls in the crowd. I don't want them to see me like this. If I thought I was at rock bottom before, I've got another thing coming.

"Still on it to sit and cry, Red?" Sam asks Mike as he walks around the benches in his boxers. He sits opposite us, shaking out his ginger hair before pulling on some sweats from beside him.

"Honestly? It doesn't sound like such a bad idea," Red mumbles.

"Come on, don't act like that, Mikey," Connor says. He's been awfully quiet, considering he usually has a lot to say when it comes to the team. He looks around at us, and the pretentious look on his face is enough to make me reel. "We've just got to train better. I was thinking of holding some sessions with the Freshman to see if they'll listen to me over coach. It's a long shot, but it might work."

Sam, Oli and Red hum in agreement. "Are you sure you"re cut out for it?" Sam asks, pointing his water bottle at Connor. "I mean, they're like fucking children, dude. It'll take a lot of work."

"I'm up for it," Connor says confidently. "With a bit more work, we'll be perfect."

I scoff. "Not everything is going to be perfect, Connor. You know that, right?"

He narrows his eyes at me. "Just because you're ready to throw yourself and your own career under the bus doesn't mean you have to drag everyone else down with you."

"I'm not doing that," I argue. Connor stands then, coming right in front of me. I lean back, crossing my arms against my chest. "Got something to say, bud?"

"Yeah, actually," he challenges. "If what you said before the game was true, did you mess up on purpose, huh? It seems fitting that you suddenly want to tell me about how little you care right before our semi-final just so you can fuck it up for the rest of us."

"Are you being serious right now?" I stand, too, squaring up to him. The whole team is watching us, ready for something to happen. He's been getting on my last nerve recently, and if he carries on like this, it's not going to be pretty.

Connor tilts his head to the side. "If you don't care, why are you here at all?"

I jab my finger into his chest, signaling him to back the fuck up. "No, Connor, I do care. I just don't only care about football."

"Yeah? What else do you care about?"

I throw my hands out in exasperation. "I don't know! Anything that isn't this. Traveling, swimming, helping people, making other people happy. Just something that is fun, and this…" I gesture to the room around us. "This isn't fun. The way I feel like I'm suffocating out there isn't what I want. And I know it won't last forever, but life is way too fucking short for me to stick around with this."

"You can't go around expecting life to be fun and games, Wes," Connor says in that condescending voice of his. "You just need to work harder and put more effort in."

"I'm not doing that. You're not listening to anything I'm saying because you're so fucking used to everyone agreeing with you, but guess what, Connor? Not everyone wants what you want. I don't want to run around on a field with a ball in my hands forever. And you can't expect me to just go along with you like I have done since we were kids. I'm not doing that anymore."

The words rush out of me, and I can't tell if I'm going to punch him in the face or break down in tears. I grab the rest of my shit from the bench and shove them into my bag. I need to get out of here and fast.

Connor's in front of me when I turn around. "Hey, come on. I didn't mean it like that, Wes. I'm just worried about you."

I brush past him, and he follows me out of the locker rooms. "Well, stop worrying."

"Hey," he says, grabbing onto my arm and pulling me back into him. "I just want what's best for you."

"I want what's best for me, too, believe it or not. I'm grabbing my shit, and I'm staying at my mom's house until I go to New York," I say, pushing his hand off me.

Connor takes a deep breath, tilting his head to the ceiling before he faces me again. "Be safe, okay? Don't give Nora shit for whatever happened just then."

"I'd never do that to her, Connor," I say, finally getting away from them.

It feelslike I haven't slept in weeks by the time I pull up to my mom's apartment. Being away from the house is exactly what I need right now. I need to start getting my head on right before I lose myself in a spiral.

These things just happen, and the sooner I realize that, the better. Everyone goes through moments like these in life where the world feels like it"s ending and nothing is going to plan. But somehow, you make it through. You have to make it through.

"What am I going to do with you, Leinster?" My mom whispers as she sets another cup of hot cocoa in front of me. We're both sitting on the couch, and it"s well into the next morning. Since I got here with Jarvis, she's given me a new haircut – finally – we've ordered pizza, and we've been watching another French soap opera.

"I don't even know what I'm doing with myself," I sigh, leaning my head back on the couch.

"Is football completely out of the question?" she asks tentatively.

"For now, definitely. I can't see myself on that field again."

She hums. "What makes you happy? What makes your heart… I don't know. Flutter?" I snort, and she swats my knee. "I'm being serious. There's got to be something that makes you feel like that. It's how I fell in love with reading."

"I don't know. I just like making people happy. That's the only way I can describe it, and I don't exactly think I'm funny enough to be a full-time comedian. I need something I can get a degree in so I feel more stable," I explain.

"Have you ever thought about teaching, maybe? You were really good with those kids at the football camp with your dad last spring," she says, her blue eyes hopeful.

I shrug. "No one's going to listen to me. It was fine when Dad was there, but apart from that, I'm just a big joke."

"You don't have to be, Wes, and I think that's what you're forgetting," she says softly. "You can be something other than the funny guy, you know? I've seen every side of you, and you"re the most natural when you're helping."

"I guess."

"We don't have to figure this out now, but you'll find it, Schatz," my mom says, and it"s like she can just magic all my worries away. "I think you need a little break from your mind and the worries here, including me."

"I'm not worried about you, Mom," I say.

She tilts her head to the side. "Really? Then why have you been checking up on me nearly every day since I moved in here?"

"Because I love you?"

"I know you do, and I love you too. But you should never have to worry about me. That's my job, okay?" There's a soft smile on her mouth, and I don't know why it breaks my heart. I want her to smile at me for real. Smile the same way she used to. Not this facade that she's doing to make me feel better. "Just because you think I'm going a bit crazy on my own doesn't mean you need to be worried."

I swallow back the emotion lodged in my throat. "I'm always going to worry about you, mom."

Her eyes widen as a grin splits across her face. "Ha! See, you admitted it."

I don't even bother to argue with her. I just let her think she's caught me out on something because the future feels a little less daunting when she pulls me into her side. I know that there are always going to be people pushing me forward, even when I don't know where I'm going.