21. Brady

21

Brady

M y phone pings as we pull into the driveway, exhausted, sore and in a bad fucking mood after losing to New York. I pull my phone from my pocket as Noah kills the ignition and reaches for the handle, no doubt anxious to get inside and see his wife and child.

I glance up at the window and see the lights burning in my wing of the house. Melanie texted me a few times and I kept my answers short and sweet. She doesn't need to know how fucking shitty I feel for letting my team down. Christ, how that last winning goal got by me… I'm going to play that shit show over and over in my head all night and I don't want to subject her to my sour mood as I beat myself up.

Noah's about to get out of his car, but stops and turns to me as I stare at the message from my mother. "It was only an exhibition game. We'll kick their ass during the regular season."

Emotions are a weakness, Brady. You're the man of the house now, so grow a set.

As my mother's words suddenly come back to haunt me, I laugh—like I always do—and shrug. "Yeah, I know, man. It's all good." He eyes me. What the fuck? I've always been able to hide behind my humor and sarcasm. Being with Melanie is changing me, and I'm not sure if it's for better or worse, because dammit, I don't want my team to see me as weak. The truth is, I take this game very seriously, and tonight I let Coach and the guys down. Every time I do that, it cuts me to the core.

But are emotions really a weakness, Brady?

Maybe they're not. Maybe that's what Melanie has been trying to show me, but right now, I can't get out of my own head to even work through that.

"You coming?"

I shake my phone. "I have to send a message. I'll be up in a minute." He pauses for a second, and I toss him a grin. "Go see your wife and kid, dude."

He nods and exits the car and I let loose a long breath as I stare at Mom's text, asking for more money. My stomach clenches and a new kind of anger bursts through my blood. I'm about to text back, asking how much, when my phone rings. I guess I took too long to answer.

"Hey Mom."

"You're not answering your texts?"

"I just got home from an exhibition game. I was about to answer you." I pinch the bridge of my nose as one of the lights in my living room brightens. Melanie is up there waiting for me and I'm a real asshole to keep her waiting. "Did you catch the game?"

A pause and then, "No. I've been down and out, Brady. These pills I'm on are making me dizzy."

The pills she's been on for as long as I can remember…and the booze.

I glance out the window, stare at the trees blowing in the light breeze as my chest tightens. "Okay, no problem."

"Why haven't you sent the money for the new SUV?"

Jesus.

"I'm not a goddamn ATM," I blurt out without thinking.

Mom gasps. "What the hell, Brady? You might not be a goddamn ATM, but you'd be nothing without me. You owe me."

The thing is, I always felt like I owed her. But what about me, my life, my future? I haven't fucking been living.

I hear a rustling sound and Uncle Wayne's voice comes over the phone. "What the hell has gotten into you, son?"

The blood in my veins freezes. "I'm not your son."

"You ungrateful little bastard," he yells. "Who do you think you are?"

"I think I'm Brady Fisher."

"Brady Fisher, who's forgotten where he came from."

A disgruntled laugh bubbles from my throat as I say, "Oh, no. Trust me. I've not forgotten where I've come from. I know exactly where I've come from."

"What the hell you getting at, b'y? You some big shot now? Living in the big city, and think you're better than the rest of us."

Bile punches into my throat. "It's not that."

"Oh, probably got a new fancy house and car. Can't help family anymore."

"Wayne…what's wrong with the last vehicle I bought?" I ask. "It's only two years old."

"Why are you questioning me? You don't believe we need a new vehicle."

I open the passenger side door and step into the night, letting the cool air wash over me. "It's just a question."

"Since when did you start questioning things?"

"Since now."

"If you need to know, Carl needs a new vehicle. I'm going to give him that piece of shit you bought two years ago."

Piece of shit?

Gravel crunches beneath my feet as I walk aimlessly. "Maybe Carl should buy his own vehicle."

"What's he saying?" I hear my mother yell out, and then muffled sounds come through the phone.

"What's going on with you, Brady?" Mom shouts into the phone.

"I'm just wondering why Carl can't buy his own vehicle."

"You know…he's…he's out of work." Her words come out a bit slurred.

"They're upgrading the processing plant, new technology, new jobs. Maybe he can get work there. Maybe Uncle Wayne should check it out, too."

A gasp of outrage rings in my ear. "Are you saying you're not going to help?"

I've never said no before, never questioned anything. I just buried shit down and did what was expected of me, but I'm fucking tired of it. "I have some things on the go." I'm not going to abandon my mother, but I need her to understand where I'm coming from, and I hope like hell she supports me. "I'm trying to save."

"Oh, what? You got some bunny pregnant or something?"

Okay, I guess she doesn't understand or support. Nice. "No."

She gives an almost hysterical laugh. "Careful, b'y. One of those bunnies will latch on and take you for everything you got."

Is she talking from experience?

I pace back to the car, and lean on the passenger side door, which I'd left open. "I think Carl should apply for work at the plant, and take care of his own family," I state, hardening my voice to make my point perfectly clear. "I can't support them anymore."

She makes a tsking sound. "You're such a disappointment," she says quietly, clearly changing tactics with me. "Might as well have died when you got in that accident when you were a kid, for all the good you are to me now."

My heart hammers so loud, I can barely hear myself think. I pull the phone from my ear as she yells and I toss it onto the driver's seat and close the door, done listening. My legs are shaky as tears pound against the back of my eyes, and for the first time in my life, I'm not sure I can keep them contained.

Jesus Christ. I can't let anyone see me like this.

With no place to go, I start toward the water, but there are people out walking and I don't want anyone to recognize me. The last thing I want is a conversation. I walk by the stairs to the rooftop bar, and since it's closed, I figure maybe that's a good place to hang out and chill for a few minutes.

I take the steps two at a time and when I reach the top and find gate locked, I simply jump it. The lights are off on the pool and I walk around it. Maybe I should go for a swim. I circle it a few times and drop into one of the lounge chairs as tonight's loss and my conversation with my mother and uncle race around my brain like hamsters on a wheel going nowhere.

Fuck.

I look back toward the house, knowing Melanie is waiting. Jesus, she deserves better than a guy like me. This is how I get after every loss, and yes, I love the woman, but do I want to subject her to these kinds of moods. Maybe if I let myself experience more emotions, I'd get better at dealing with them.

I lay flat on my back as the quiet of the night surrounds me but does little to quiet my racing mind. Dark clouds part and make way for stars to shine bright, and that's when I realize the chair I'm on is soaked. I still don't move. I'm not sure I can.

As worry, responsibilities and failing to win tonight's game weigh me down, a creaking noise grabs my attention. In the dark of the night, I turn toward the gate as someone opens it and enters the pool area. What the fuck? The place is closed for the night. Is someone robbing the place? That thought takes me back to the night I nearly poked Melanie.

I lie perfectly still, wanting to fade into the black, to disappear into the night, as footsteps sound on the pool deck. Rustling sounds behind the bar followed by slight cursing sounds reach my ears, and I sit up a bit straighter. That's when my chair creaks and a small gasp, followed by stillness and silence curl around me. I hold my breath, not wanting to draw any attention to myself when Melanie's voice fills the quiet.

"Is someone there?" She asks, and as the moon shines down, I spot her inching toward the gate. Shit, I scared her.

"It's me."

She stops moving, speaking. Christ, is she even breathing?

"Brady?"

"Yeah."

In the darkness I see the silhouette of her moving toward me. "What's going on? What are you doing out here?"

"I guess I could ask the same question." Way to deflect, dude.

"I was looking for antacids. I knew we had some behind the bar."

Worry invades my gut, and I shift, throwing both legs over the side of the lounger. "Why do you need antacids? Are you okay?"

"I have indigestion." She closes the distance between us. "Are you okay?"

I open my mouth to tell her I'm fine, that the world is fine, that I'm living my best life, only to close it again. Who the fuck am I kidding? She can see right through me, but I don't want to bring her down.

"You should go."

"Brady." Her voice is thick, layered with concern as she drops to her knees in front of me. She cups my face, and when I try to pull away, she won't let me, and fuck, maybe I don't want her to let me. "Why are you out here hiding?"

Jesus, this woman is astute. I scan her face in the dark, and the concern there wraps around my heart and squeezes tight. "We lost."

"I know. I watched the game."

As soon as the words leave her mouth, I nearly fucking sob. I haven't known this woman intimately for all that long, yet, unlike my family, she watched my game. "I let the team down and I don't want them seeing me like this. I don't want them to think I'm weak."

"No, Brady, no. You are not weak, and you did not let your team down. Besides, being upset or showing emotions doesn't mean you're weak."

I shake my head, ignoring that last part as she holds me tight. "You said you watched the game. You saw the last goal I let in."

"Oh, Brady, babe. No. You are not responsible for your entire team. You're a team. You all win as a team and lose as a team, and it wasn't even really a loss. It was just an exhibition game. You can't beat yourself up over this."

I go quiet for a long time, and her hands leave my face and slide around my neck. She brings me to her, and I rest my face against her chest. Something about her strong heartbeat does something to me, has me opening up in new ways.

"My mother…" Her hand goes still on my back. I wait for her to speak and when she stays quiet, I continue. "She called me tonight. Wanted money for a car. It's a long story, but basically told me I might as well have died all those years ago because I'm no good to her."

Air leaves her lungs and washes over my neck as she inches back to face me. "I'm sorry, Brady. You don't deserve that."

I shrug, not sure if I do or not. "When I was growing up, after we lost Dad, she told me I had to toughen up because I was the man of the house."

"You were only eight, right?" I nod. "No eight-year-old is the man of the house Brady."

I shrug again. "She's pretty fucking mad at me." I search Lanie's face, and she stares back with a raw concern that means a whole fucking lot to me. My heart pounds and I take a minute to pull myself together before I speak again. "My uncle basically accused me of thinking I was better than them."

"I haven't wanted to say much, Brady. Lord knows we all have our demons, and I'm not saying anyone is better than anyone else. But let's face it. They do nothing when work is available, and they expect you to pay for everything. You train hard for your job, play even harder during games. You help everyone out at every opportunity, and yes, I know about my tuition and no, I'm not mad because I know you did it out of love, and you never want anything in return. Maybe that does make you a better person."

"I don't know." I force a smile, and lightly brush her hair from her face. "I'm glad you're not mad."

"You've come a long way, not because of your family, but maybe despite them," she whispers, her voice low, like she's trying to soften that harsh truth. I remember saying something very similar to her once. "Trust me, I know all about that."

This time I cup her face. "I know you do." I give a tortured laugh as my love for this woman pushes back the pain.

"They're grown-ass adults, Brady. You are not their meal ticket and they are not your responsibility. Just like winning and losing with the Bucks is not all on you. You have to let that belief go. I know it's ingrained, and I know it's going to take a lot of work to move past that, but I'm here to help you find a way forward and build a life for yourself if you let me."

She's saying everything I never knew I needed to hear. "Thank you."

"I had to walk away from my family and the situation I was in for my own mental health and growth. I'm not saying you need to do that, Brady. But you do need to set boundaries, and stick to them."

"You're right. I do." I take a deep breath. "I love you, Lanie."

"I love you too." She lightly presses her lips to mine before her lips quirk into a playful smile. "Parents… they can really fuck a kid up, huh?"

Again, I know she's talking from experience and she has come such a long way. How could I not love and admire a woman like her.

"Yeah," I snort out. "All the more reason I'm never going to be a father." She inches back, her movements stiff, like my words just pierced her heart.

Was it something I said?