Chapter 53

53

JASON

After settling my mom in at home and promising to check back first thing in the morning, Zach and I climbed into my truck and headed back toward the lake.

It had been surreal to have Zach inside my childhood home again. I'd been flooded with memories, particularly of that week we'd spent there while the girls were in the hospital. My bedroom had become our refuge, a place to escape the stress and worry of the hospital where we could wrap ourselves in each other. I wouldn't ever wish to experience that week again, but I couldn't help but long for the feeling of holding him in my arms, if only for a moment.

That week had been absolute hell, but so had the weeks following, when I'd been consumed with fear and worry over why he wasn't returning my calls until, eventually, that had given way to grief over the relationship that had only just begun but had meant everything. As much as I longed for those days when he'd been mine to hold, the reality was that he wasn't mine. No matter his reasoning for removing himself from my life or the apologies he'd made in the last several weeks, he'd chosen to leave. We couldn't go back.

It was quiet in the truck, the silence weighty with all that lay between us. The anger I'd initially felt when he returned had dissipated over the last couple of weeks, leaving a sense of deep weariness in its wake. There was still so much I didn't understand about the way he'd left me, but I was so tired of thinking about it. Of trying to make sense of what he'd told me. His presence here was dredging up hurts I'd long since buried. Things I'd moved on from. I'd built a good life here without him. There was no sense in rehashing the past and reopening old wounds.

And then I'd run into him at the hospital yesterday. He'd been so pale as he'd come down the hall toward me, his eyes just a little wild, like he was trying to keep himself from flying apart. I'd seen that look on his face once before when he'd had a panic attack outside of Drea's hospital room. For a moment, it had been like we were back there, and I'd wanted to pull him into my arms, just as I'd done back then. And then I'd watched as he'd pulled himself together, pushing past the panic so he could attempt to cheer up a kid who'd just had the rug pulled out from under him.

Watching Zach interact with Sean had been a sight to behold. I'd been so captivated by how Zach handled the conversation that I'd barely said anything. He'd been pale and shaky in the hallway, and then right before my eyes, he transformed into a confident professional soccer player. A kid's sports hero. He'd been compassionate and warm with his offer to hold a spot for Sean at camp, seeming to anticipate the boy's concerns before he'd even expressed them. And while most adults didn't know how to talk to teenage boys, especially ones in the middle of a life-altering event, Zach had seemed completely at ease. Though I supposed he might understand better than most after losing his own mother as a teen.

It wasn't until we were outside, when he took a few deep breaths, that I remembered just how tense he'd been when he first approached me outside of Sean's room. For a moment, I'd forgotten about all the old wounds of our split and had only been impressed by the man who'd battled his own demons to show up for a kid he'd never met.

I'd thought of little else over the last twenty-four hours.

I pulled into the driveway of his house, noting how little it had changed over the years despite being under different owners for some of that time. "I was surprised when I heard you bought your old house."

"I was going to buy a condo in the city, but I happened upon the listing and couldn't pass it up. I have complicated feelings about this house, but it felt like a sign."

"A sign of what?"

"That it was time to come home. Time to stop running."

I turned to look at him. "Is that what you've been doing all this time? Running?"

"Yeah. I think so."

"Running from what? From me?"

"Not from you. From what I did to you." He averted his gaze to look out the window but turned back toward me now. "I'm just so damn sorry. You deserved better."

He'd apologized a couple of times over the last month, but there was an intensity and a sadness I hadn't noticed before through the haze of my anger. I didn't know what to do with it.

"Why now? After all this time, why come back?"

"How much of my soccer career did you follow?"

I snorted. "More than I should have."

One corner of his mouth lifted up in humor. "You know I played three years with San Fran and that I just retired?"

"Yeah. You took everybody by surprise. By all accounts, you're in good health and a leader on the team. There was talk of you playing in the Olympics. No one saw it coming."

"That's right. And you know I bounced around a couple of teams before that?"

I nodded.

"Any guesses why? You know me pretty well."

"I thought I did once."

"I'm not much different, J," he said softly.

I huffed but didn't respond.

"I looked good enough for scouts that I got picked up in the draft, but I barely saw any action. I struggled to adjust to the faster pace of play in the pros. By the end of the first season, I got traded. My second season was only moderately better, and I couldn't figure out why. I trained hard in the offseason. Worked hard throughout the season, but I just couldn't find my groove. The trade to San Fran was a last-ditch effort to save my career. With it being an expansion team, there was a lot of energy and excitement surrounding that first season. It sparked something in me that had been missing for a while, and I finally felt like I was finding my place. I found joy in playing again. But it didn't last. I started having soccer-related nightmares. I began to dread game days. And despite the next two seasons being some of my best, I realized any love I'd had for playing had long since been replaced by a constant fear that I wouldn't live up to expectations.

"I don't think I'm wired to be a professional athlete. I have the skill and the talent, but the pressure to perform takes all the fun out of it. My body constantly ached, and it seemed like I was always battling some minor injury. The travel felt never-ending. Do you know I've always wanted a dog? As a kid, we never had one because Drea and I were so busy, and as an adult, I was always traveling. But I really think I want a dog."

I thought what he was saying actually made some sense. He'd always seemed to have a love-hate relationship with soccer. I knew the weight of his father's expectations had worn on him, but I had hoped that would change in college. It seemed that while his father had let up on him, the pressure had shifted to a different source. I figured you really had to love a sport to make it worth that kind of stress.

"Okay, so why Astaire? You could live anywhere in the country. Any city you want. Why here?"

Someone like Zach had always been meant for someplace bigger. He'd traveled all over the country and even parts of Europe for his career. Why return to the tiny town of Astaire in the heart of the Midwest?

His eyes met mine. "Because it's home."

I understood the intent behind his words, but I chose to ignore it. I wasn't ready to face the possibility that his answer was me . "What about Omaha? You grew up there. Your dad's there."

He took a moment to respond, staring into the distance as he contemplated his answer. "The Zach who grew up in Omaha was an entirely different person. And even that year I was in Astaire, I was still hanging on to that old persona to some degree. But the summer after graduation…that was the most me I've ever felt. I didn't feel pressured to act a certain way or be the life of the party. To always put on a smile and act like I had the perfect life. I could be sad sometimes or angry. I could take time for myself, sit out on the dock, and just…exist."

"What happened when you went to college? Which Zach were you in LA? Or San Fran?"

I waited once again while he gave his answer some thought. "A hybrid, maybe? I was probably a little more myself than I was in high school, but no one has cracked me open the way you did."

There it was again, the implication I was avoiding. I let out a sigh. "Zach…you're putting a lot of weight on one summer. Has it occurred to you that you might be placing more significance on it than you should?"

"Am I? Is it all in my head? What we meant to each other?"

I wanted to deny it, but I didn't have it in me. "No. But what if you've come back here, searching for that feeling, and I can't give it to you? It seems to me this whole idea of getting back to who you really are is intertwined with our relationship. What if I can't give you what you want?"

"Can't or won't?"

"Does it matter? The result is the same."

He blew out a breath. "You're right. And I won't pretend I didn't come back here in the hope I could repair the damage I caused when I left or that we might find our way back to some sort of friendship, at least. But you're not the only reason I came here. Don't forget that my sister and Aunt Amy are here too. And I'm serious about the youth soccer club. It's the most excited I've been about anything…maybe ever. I might not have been wired to be a professional athlete, but that doesn't mean I can't give other kids the opportunity to reach their full potential. Maybe I had to do all that other stuff so I could show future athletes the way."

His eyes lit up as he spoke about the club, and I couldn't deny that it was good to see him so excited about something. I thought what he was trying to achieve here was admirable, and a part of me was proud of him for choosing this path, for walking away from his professional sports career because he knew deep down it wasn't the right path for him. And he was still trying to do some good with his knowledge and experience. But that didn't mean I had to open up a place in my life for him.

"I don't know where to go from here, Zach. I don't know what you want from me."

"I'm not asking anything of you." I snorted, but he pressed on. "I know it may seem that way, but my initial goal in seeing you again was to give you a long overdue apology. The way I left things…I know I've tried to explain, but that doesn't excuse my actions, and I wanted to tell you how sorry I am. Anything beyond that is up to you."

I looked into the distance, letting his words settle inside me, mulling them over while I considered my response. I opted for the truth. "What you did…ghosting me like that after everything we went through that week…it hurt me in ways I still haven't recovered from. And if I'm honest, I still don't completely understand. I want to forgive you. In a town this size, and given my friendship with your sister, it would be so much easier. I just…I don't know if I can let it go. I can be polite, but for anything beyond that, I need some time."

"That's fair."

Silence descended in the truck, leaving me with a feeling of overwhelming sadness. I wanted to move forward, if only so peace could exist between us, but I didn't know how. There was a gulf between us that I didn't know how to cross.

"How are you feeling about the fire the other night? You seemed a little shaken up yesterday. Do you want to talk about it?"

The change in topic surprised me. I'd been a little shaky yesterday but hadn't realized Zach noticed. There was a time I would have poured my heart out to him, but that wasn't something I was prepared to do tonight.

"Nah. I'm fine." I looked at my watch. "I think it's probably best I get home and go to bed. I'm gonna try talking Mom into heading to the doctor first thing in the morning."

We sat staring at each other awkwardly in the dim light of the cab. Once upon a time, I would have leaned in and kissed him. Instead, I said, "Thanks for your help with my mom."

"No need to thank me. I'm glad I was there to help."

He turned and climbed out of the truck, and I watched as he punched in the code to the garage and headed inside.

I made my way home, showering off the dried sweat and grime from the yard work I'd been doing before Mom texted. I brushed my teeth and set my alarm before climbing into bed. But sleep wouldn't come. Thoughts of Zach and everything we'd discussed played on a loop in my brain like some sort of earworm.

I may not be able to forgive him, but it seemed I couldn't stop thinking about him either.