Return to destiny, p.5
Return to Destiny, page 5
Of course, he was sorry she’d, in turn, looked so uncomfortable upon seeing him, and then so angry. Once upon a time, he’d been able to make her smile just by walking into a room.
He ran his hand back through his hair, then reached for his beer, emptying what remained and then crushing the can for no particular reason. Her visit, and all the things she’d said—blunt was a good way to describe it—had left him feeling even more out-of-sorts than he’d already been. Like he was an ass for just sitting here the last few weeks, like he should get up and go do something. But he was just so damned tired. Physically. Mentally. And even if he had any energy, what on earth was there to do?
He stared back out at the serene view that had originally drawn him to build a house here. He’d thought of it as a place to crash on the rare occasions he was home—usually just for a few days around the holidays in recent years—and a place for his dad and other family members to use as a fishing retreat. Beyond that, he’d figured maybe his mom and dad would eventually want to retire here. But he’d never in his wildest dreams imagined it would become his place to hide when his life and career fell apart before he’d even hit thirty.
That was when he caught some movement to his left again and spun his head to look, thinking maybe she’d come back…only to see his old boss from his high school days, Adam Becker, carrying a folded-over paper bag in one hand and a pie in the other. “Adam?” he asked, just because it was starting to seem like he’d stepped into another dimension, being visited by ghosts of autumns past.
“Hey Ty, what’s up?” Adam asked as easily as if they’d hung out together last week.
Tyler sat up straighter in his chair. Adam was a good guy, always had been, but that didn’t make Tyler any less shocked to suddenly have him on his back porch just a few short minutes after Cara’s departure. He wasn’t really ready for another visitor. He hadn’t been ready for the first one.
When Tyler didn’t reply, Adam held up the pie as he approached. “Heard you were back in town and thought maybe we’d see you at Applefest today. Since we didn’t, decided I’d bring some Applefest to you.”
Okay, pull yourself together. Tyler summoned the energy to push to his feet, trying to greet his old friend and mentor as graciously as possible. Though he feared he’d lost that particular skill lately. “It’s good to see you, man. Been a long time.”
Adam lowered the pie onto the small patio table, next to the crushed beer can already residing there, in order to shake Tyler’s hand. “Sorry to drop by unannounced.”
“Not a problem,” Tyler said, then motioned around him. “Not like I have a whole lot going on. No place to be and nothing but time on my hands.” Being a little self-deprecating felt better than…not acknowledging that he probably looked like hell and seemed like a lazy loser just sitting out here alone in the middle of nowhere when there was a festival going on in town.
Not that he’d given a crap about Applefest, even when his mother had tried to push him into going. Sure, once upon a time, he’d been at the festival holding Cara’s hand as they walked around eating apple-filled snacks and talking to friends—and he’d never have dreamed the day would come when he’d rather be by himself drinking beer and watching leaves fall. But times—and life—changed.
“Also brought a couple of burgers from Dolly’s if you haven’t eaten yet,” Adam said.
The truth was, Tyler hadn’t realized it was anywhere near dinnertime—his aimlessness since coming home to Ohio last month now officially extended that far. But he saw no upside in admitting that and just said, “Um, no—a burger sounds good.”
“Might have to reheat ’em a little,” Adam suggested with his easygoing smile. “It’s a long drive out here.”
“Sure—come on in,” Tyler said, then got up and led the way through the back door to a large modern kitchen that was part of an open floor plan.
“This place is spectacular,” Adam observed as Tyler took the bag of burgers and fries, putting them on a plate and sticking them in the microwave.
“Thanks,” Tyler said. Then he turned to look, trying to see it through his old friend’s eyes. Maybe he’d stopped taking it in, partly because he’d learned that was just what happened—no matter how great your surroundings, you got used to them. But maybe also because he wasn’t seeing much of anything these days. Even the pretty view Cara had commented on—he’d agreed, but had literally been staring at it without seeing it. The greatroom of the lake house boasted dark hardwood floors and thick beams, a large stone fireplace that reached the ceiling two stories up, rustic furniture, and a dining table constructed from reclaimed barn wood by local craftsman Duke Dawson. And he’d made all those choices with care, sparing no expense, after he’d had the custom home built—but now it all faded into the background for him.
Taking a seat at that table a minute later, they exchanged small talk that turned out to actually be kind of pleasant—until they reached the topic of Tyler getting cut by the Texas Comets with no real future to look forward to, given his string of injuries.
“You’re all healed up, though, right?” Adam asked.
Tyler nodded as he sank his teeth into a cheeseburger he could only think of as hometown delicious. Dolly’s burgers had a particular taste, something he’d never been able to put his finger on, but he hadn’t had a burger this good in years. Still, a tasty burger didn’t make the topic any more palatable. “Yeah,” he assured Adam, “I’m healthy as a horse. Rehabbed all my broken parts until they were good as new. But there just comes a time, at NFL level, when you’re seen as damaged goods anyway. If nothing else, I probably seem like a guy who can’t get out of the pocket and avoid the rush, not to mention one who can’t take a hit.” He shook his head as he reached for a good old-fashioned crinkle fry.
“Can’t see how anyone could draw that conclusion given how little playing time you actually got,” Adam suggested. “Seems more like a crapload of bad luck than poor skills.”
Tyler shrugged. “Even so, nobody wants to put money or faith in a QB who leaves with a major injury every time he’s put in the game.”
Adam looked thoughtful about it as he replied, “Back in the day, you took plenty of hits. In college, too.”
Tyler nodded. “I know I can take a hit. And I can out-maneuver a rush. Wouldn’t have been a first-round draft pick if I couldn’t. But I just don’t seem like a good bet at this point.”
That’s when Adam’s expression changed, turned warmer. “Did you know my boys are the star players for the Bulldogs now?”
Tyler drew his head back in surprise. “Your twins are already in high school?” They’d been little kids back when Tyler did landscape work for Adam by summer and loaded live Christmas trees onto the roofs of people’s cars come wintertime.
“Seniors,” Adam confirmed. “I can’t believe it, either. But Jacob’s the quarterback and Joey’s his number one receiver.”
That made Tyler smile. A good receiver was a QB’s best friend on the field, and someone he developed a true chemistry with, so he could only imagine the connection you’d have if the guy was literally your twin brother. “That sounds like a match made in football heaven.”
Adam laughed as he ate a couple of fries, then wiped a napkin across his mouth. “Don’t know that they’d ever go pro or anything, but we’re hoping for some scholarships, and the team is having a banner year—best one since…well, since you were team captain.”
“Ya don’t say,” Tyler remarked with a smile. It was nice to think of his old alma mater excelling on the gridiron again. It could be challenging for a small school like Destiny High to be competitive in team sports, so when they were, it was special, for the kids, the school, and the whole community. He knew that first hand, having led the Bulldogs to their first and only state championship ever during his senior year.
Adam nodded, looking like a proud dad. “Perfect record so far. We’ll see if they can keep it going. Got a great new coach—young, innovative, really seems to know how to motivate the boys and help them succeed.”
“That’s great,” Tyler said, and despite having no direct effect on him, it was the most uplifting news he’d heard in a while.
“You oughta come out next Friday night—home game. People would love to see you there, I’m sure.”
Okay, being happy for these young boys was one thing, but returning to his high school stadium as an out-of-work has-been was pretty low on his list of things to do. “Maybe,” he said anyway. Just to avoid the discussion.
“And if you want some laughs, the donkey basketball game’s on Tuesday.”
Nope, wasn’t gonna go to that, either—but as they moved on to the apple pie, he replied, “Yeah, I heard from Cara that was coming up.”
At this, Adam’s eyebrows rose. “You’ve seen Cara?”
Tyler blew out a breath. “She was here about five minutes before you showed up.”
He sensed Adam being curious about it but not knowing what to say or ask. They were friends, sure, but had been mostly boss and employee, not guys who sat around talking about their love lives to one another.
So Tyler threw him a bone. “Awkward as hell, in case you were wondering. And she was lost—looking for the guy who owns the donkeys, in fact.”
“Ah.” Adam tipped his head back, seeming appeased.
“But she told me my father actually asked her to come talk to me, if you can believe that.” He’d made the split decision to share purely out of still being pissed at his dad. “Everybody’s all up in arms because I’m taking a little time to get my head on straight out here. Can’t give me a chance to catch my damn breath.”
When his old boss didn’t reply, Tyler looked up from the slice of pie he’d just cut to see him looking uncharacteristically sheepish.
He narrowed his gaze on Adam, starting to feel a little suspicious.
Then Adam pursed his lips and confessed. “Okay, guess it’s time to come clean.”
The news made Tyler give his head a tired shake. “Seriously? He asked you, too? Did the guy go door to door or what?”
“Frankly,” Adam said with an amused look, “now I’m insulted. Here I thought your first boss was his number one choice to get you out of your funk.”
Tyler let out a cynical chuckle. “Sorry to let you down, buddy.” Then he ventured, “Tell me something, though. Do I seem that bad off? That in need of somebody to cheer me up?”
He waited while Adam took a minute to formulate his response. It wasn’t the quick “no” he’d been looking for, but he felt at least a little vindicated when Adam replied, “To tell you the truth, I expected to find you in dirty clothes and a drunken stupor, so it’s a relief that you’re upright and able to communicate.” He grinned—but then it faded. “Still, though, I get it. He’s a dad. If I look ten years down the road, imagining either of my boys in the same position, I’m sure I’d be worried, too. I’m sure your family would feel better if you weren’t…you know, out here all alone for weeks. If you came around people, around town. Do you feel…like…depressed?”
Awkward conversation for a couple of guys. And Tyler almost denied it because the athlete in him was trained to stay tough, look tough, be tough. But Adam was his friend. So he thought it over, and even if it was uncomfortable for him, he finally said, “Maybe. I mean, who wouldn’t be? Everything I’ve worked for my whole life just came to an abrupt halt. Everything changed for me when I least expected it.”
Adam took that in, giving a solemn, understanding nod. “I hear ya. Have any idea what you’re gonna do now?”
“Nope,” he said honestly. “And that seems to be the problem for people. Thing is, I’ve spent my whole life up to now working toward what everybody expected me to work toward. From the time I was a little kid, I was training for a career in sports, working hard at it all the time. And don’t get me wrong—I loved it. But hell, the time I was on the clock at Becker Landscaping was almost like a vacation for me—it was one of the few times and places I wasn’t focused on being the best I could be on the field. And I think, now that I’ve failed, I just want to…do whatever I damn well feel like for the first time in my life, even if that’s just sitting on my back porch drinking beer all day.” He pointed vaguely out the picture windows that lined the rear of the house. “That might sound like a guy who’s depressed. But it might just be a guy who needs some time off without people telling him what to do. It might be a guy wondering who he is without the word ‘quarterback’ in front of his name. It might be a guy just…resting.” He shrugged, hoping Adam could understand his point of view.
When he was done, Adam said, “Fair enough. I get it.”
And then they talked about other things. That Edna Farris’s apple pie was as good as Tyler remembered. That Adam’s landscaping business was still thriving, right now well-stocked with mums, pumpkins, and gourds. And that he and his long-time girlfriend, Sue Ann, were planning to finally get married once their kids were all off to college next year.
When darkness began to fall a couple of hours later, Adam said, “Sun’s setting—I should take off. Hope I didn’t overstay my welcome, especially since I was on a secret mission and blew it.” He gave another of his easy smiles.
Tyler’s reply was sincere. “No, man—this was good. Really. It was nice to catch up. Nice to eat some good food with a good friend. Thanks for that, by the way. That pie won’t last long—might have more after you leave.”
“Well, I hope it reminded you of some of the good things your old hometown still has to offer,” Adam told him as they walked toward the front door. “And maybe that’ll lure you out to the football game next week.”
Again, Tyler just answered, “Maybe,” knowing it was still a no. But the visit from Adam had turned out to be a surprisingly nice way to pass the evening.
So closing the door behind his old friend felt…odd.
Safe, because he’d gotten used to being alone lately.
But also strange, because he’d never wanted to be that way before now, and being with Adam the last few hours had drawn him out of that—just a little. Just enough that the return to the aloneness actually felt a little…lonely.
But still fine. Still easier than being with people, acting like life was normal or that he felt like a productive member of society.
Standing alone in a room that had gotten dark with the hour, he just shook his head, still irked at his dad. He knew the guy was worried about him and just wanted him to be happy, but at the same time, it was hard not to feel like he’d let his father down. Repeatedly now. Failing in the NFL, failing to keep his body uninjured and strong—and now this, just failing to deal with getting cut the way everyone seemed to think he should be.
His dad had never said any of those things—it was just a built-in, silent part of their relationship. Hell, maybe, for all he knew, he was imagining it. But it had always been there, at least for him, from every drive to peewee football to every phone call after an NFL game. Who didn’t want to make their parents proud? Who didn’t feel like a disappointment when they didn’t?
And as he plopped down on the couch, not bothering to turn on any lights, just quietly taking in an electric orange sunset over Autumn Lake, he finally had the chance to think back on his visit with Cara, his father’s unwitting emissary—seeing her had completely knocked him for a loop. And something he’d said to Adam replayed in his brain now without warning. Everything changed for me when I least expected it.
That was probably how Cara had felt ten years ago. He’d known what he’d done to her was awful, but maybe not until this moment did he understand the true shock and upheaval and letdown it must have been.
Then he remembered her pointing out how fortunate he was, financially. He felt like a jerk never to have looked at it that way since being cut. He’d known it early in his career when the money was new and felt miraculous to a young man who’d come from a humble background, whose family didn’t drive new cars or take fancy vacations and had lived in the same modest two-bedroom home his whole life. But he supposed, like many things, he’d started taking it for granted over time, and had continued to these last few weeks. So strange how quickly something amazing can start to just seem normal, how easy it is to stop feeling gratitude for it.
She was right—most people, if they had the money he’d been paid these last six years, would never ask for anything more.
And she was right that he should get over his disappointments and do something better than he was doing right now.
He knew that.
But he just didn’t feel any closer to doing it than he had before she’d come.
He didn’t want to go to a town festival or a donkey basketball game. He didn’t want to revisit the Bulldogs stadium only to be reminded that such a promising start to his career had ended with him feeling like a reject ten years later with truly nothing better to do on an autumn night.
Nope, no matter what anyone said, right now all he wanted to do was sleep until noon, then sit on his back porch wondering where he’d gone so wrong as to feel this way at twenty-eight and what the hell his life was supposed to be about if not the sport he’d committed his entire life to.
And after today, those thoughts would now have added to them the mixed blessing of having seen Cara: the warmth of remembering how amazing their young love had been, and the disappointment of finding out for sure what he’d always known deep down—that she was the one.
And he’d stupidly pushed her away.
And now it was too late.
Chapter Five
Cara stood outside her office near the front doors of Destiny High, watching as students flocked toward the exits after the last bell of the day. It was one more aspect of her job, the task part hall monitor, part social as she waved and said goodbye to various kids as they passed.
“Bye, Cara!”
“See ya, Cara!”
She was the only faculty member the students were allowed to call by first name—simply because she wasn’t an official authority figure here, and she didn’t mind. She thought it made the kids feel more comfortable with her, and more connected, which she liked.
