58. Chapter 58

Chapter 58

Tripp

My head coach is calling me. Probably to check in.

"Is there something you want to share?" he asks, his voice clear and to the point.

"No, not particularly. Is there something you want to share?"

"This isn't a joke, Tripp. If you're thinking about retiring, it'd be nice if you had those conversations with us before anyone else."

Retiring? The only person I even uttered the thought to was Willow.

"I'm not exactly following…"

"We've been fielding calls asking to comment on your pending retirement."

"This is the first I've heard about it," I say.

"You didn't tell anyone that retirement was a serious option for you?"

I don't answer. I can't answer. My fingers tingle as I hold the phone too tight.

"Listen. I know that hit scared the shit out of you. It should've. My advice to you is to not make any decisions without some space from it. And once something like this comes out, the team would be stupid not to put themselves in the best position to win."

"What does that mean?"

"It means the front office can't unread this. It puts doubt in their mind. Their minds will be open, even if it's just a crack, on the roster for next season. I'm not saying it's right and not that they're actively looking but I want to be straight with you. "

Fuck me. This is not happening.

"No, I appreciate it." And I do. I don't think there are many coaches who operate like mine. Straight to the point even when he doesn't have to.

"I'd try to figure out the leak."

No. No. No.

There's nothing to figure out. The only person I told was Willow. Right? Fuck. My brain is fuzzy. It's like a haze covers parts of my memories.

Who else was in the room? No one. Couldn't be. I was terrified to say those words out loud. I would've never done it if anyone was in there.

"Definitely. Thanks for calling, Coach. I haven't made any decisions, and I won't until I'm ready. I promise you'll be the first one I talk to."

"You have to do what's best for you. I hope it's being a starter for this team next year, and a few more after. Call me if you need anything, ok?"

The line goes dead. I stare at the phone in my hand. Tears cloud my vision. Mostly out of frustration but I'd be lying to myself if this doesn't hurt. Willow didn't keep my secret. My coach basically told me this could jeopardize my future with the team.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. You have nothing. My own brain bullies me. I try to breathe through it, but it hurts to breathe in all the way.

Football is a massive question mark, Willow is a hard no, and my shoulder fucking hurts. I pace. I walk the same short space from my kitchen to the living room.

This isn't happening. There's no fucking way. The wave of dread envelops me. Alarms are going off and I'm starting to hyperventilate. There was a reason I never took this risk, trusting another person, because most of them prove me they shouldn't be trusted. Why the fuck did I think Willow would be different ?

Did she really tell someone? One of my deepest darkest secrets. Did she share my most vulnerable moment?

Before I can plan my next move, the door opens.

Willow.

"Tripp, did you—"

"Who did you tell?" I turn to her too fast.

"No one," she responds with no hesitation.

"I can't believe this. You're the only one I told." I look at my phone on the end table. Texts are coming in. My mom is calling.

"Tripp. You have to believe me. I didn't tell anyone. You know me." She taps her hand on her chest, right over her heart.

I thought I did. There's no other explanation for this though. My brain is trying to sift through the mud. Everything is murky.

"There's no other way this got out. It was only me and you in that room." An angry tear falls down my cheek. "I kept all your secrets and followed your rules. I did what I was supposed to, and you couldn't do this one fucking thing for me?!" I know I'm yelling, and I don't care.

"Please, take a breath. Let's sit." Willow gestures to the couch. When I don't move, and continue pacing, she asks the burning question. "Tripp, are you going to retire?"

"I don't know if it's my choice any more. The Cosmos are on alert. They think one of their best players is turning into mush and leaving them behind."

"If it's not true, put out a statement. Things like this always blow over."

She doesn't understand. Why isn't she listening to me?

"I can't put out a statement! I have no idea what I'm going to do. Plus, my coach called. Basically told me this put the thought in the team's mind that they may need another wide receiver next year." I've never been one to yell but I don't feel like she gets it. I pace back and forth. Small steps.

"They wouldn't do that…" she says.

"You don't know anything if you think that. I'm here, in this apartment, because of a random move I never saw coming. Quit being so fucking na?ve."

"Don't talk to me like that."

"Willow. You fucked this up! I thought I was going to have time to think through this major life decision and now I have to make it while everyone analyzes every fucking thing I do, say, or breathe."

"I didn't tell anyone. And don't be mad at me that you have to make a call on something difficult. The decision was always there. Before me."

"Before you, all of this, no one would've cared what I did." All the training sessions I skipped, hours I drove, and late nights roar back to me. All of the things I gave up so I could see Willow, comfortably, when we were early in this. "After everything I gave up. Changed. All the things I did to make this work for you. You couldn't do this one thing for me."

"Sure, the press followed me and immediately found you. It wasn't you spraying Champagne, winning a Super Bowl, interacting with paparazzi and drunk fans. It was all me."

"Maybe you need this. The constant attention. The press feeding into your every move." My words are razor sharp and the look on her face tells me everything I need to know.

Everything hurts. It hurts to think. Hurts to feel. Hurts to be in this room right now with someone I thought I could trust.

This is over.

"Seems like you need the attention. Attention I can't give you." I don't want to look at her, but I do. My skin is hot, and my pulse is in my ears.

"Just say it, Tripp."

"I want you to leave .

"I can't believe this. Nice way to treat someone you supposedly love."

"You're one to talk. Put the key on the counter before you leave. You won't be needing it."

The words hit her, and I swear I see her stumble back by their force. Her mouth is open, before pressing it into a tight line. She shakes her head back and forth and crosses her arms.

"Try not to scream about my hometown on your way out. If you can help yourself." I can't even look her way.

"You're going to regret this." She slams the key on the counter and the door shuts a few seconds after.

Willow's gone.