“I get it, I do. But you’re not being objective. Football hasn’t changed you. You’ve changed in spite of football. You’re a man with more strength of will than anyone I’ve ever known and that’s saying a lot because Calvin is a force to be reckoned with. Football isn’t preventing you from doing anything. It’s a crutch…one that will kill you if you don’t give it up.”
“I can’t…”
“You are not your history. Isn’t that what you said to me? Why won’t you give yourself the same credit?”
He won’t meet my eyes. Gently taking my wrists in his big hands, hands that have done beautiful things to my body, he stands and takes me with him. Then he steps away, putting distance between us.
My anger spikes.
“I haven’t seen you lose your temper once, Grant. Not even close. You’re in pain from the surgery,” I mark off on my fingers. “You’ve had every opportunity the last two and a half months and not once have I seen evidence of this legendary temper.”
He grabs his computer, tucking it under his arm. “I’ll see you tonight.”
The hell he will. I love this man––bad attitude, beautiful heart and all. I’m not going to stand by and let him do this to himself. “I love you,” I say without hesitation, with all the conviction in my body. “I do. I love you fiercely. I didn’t even think I was capable of this kind of love with the exception of Sam…what I’m trying to say is that I would take a bullet for you, but I won’t watch you kill yourself.”
His chin jerks up and his blazing blue eyes search my face. He takes a step toward me but I halt his progress with a raised hand.
“I’m telling you now because I’m scared I won’t get the chance again. That’s how fucked up this is. If you want to continue playing don’t come back. I won’t watch you kill yourself anymore than you would stand by and watch me drink myself to death. I can’t do it, Grant. If something happens to you, it will kill me. I’ll be your accomplice. It’s not fair to me and it’s not fair to Sam. This is bigger than just you and me…he comes first.”
He blinks at me, assessing how far I’m willing to take this, what his chances are of changing my mind. I can see the moment he accepts what I’ve said as the final word.
“Mand––”
“No.” I shake my head. “Retire or this is over.” The tears I’ve been fighting, tears of frustration, collect at the corners of my eyes. “I’m not accepting scraps anymore. You taught me that. I love you but I won’t let you put me second to a game.”
His face goes flat. Only the hard muscle along his jaw pulsing is any indication of a storm under the calm surface.
“If you loved me you wouldn’t be issuing an ultimatum.” And then he walks out on me.
“Cal, did you hear this?” Camilla says over her shoulder. She tucks her feet up on the couch and checks the baby monitor.
“Hear what?” my brother walks into the family room eating a burger. He’s always eating. I’ve never seen anyone consume calories the way he does. Not even Grant.
Sam and I are staying in New Jersey for the weekend. Spending some time with Calvin’s kids, Connor and the new baby, Christian.
Shortly before Labor Day, we closed the Hamptons house and the studio, said our goodbyes to Walter who promised to come visit us, and headed back to the city.
The feeling was bittersweet. We shared so many wonderful memories there. And yet the last memory of Grant walking out is the only one I can remember now. He’s been leaving sporadic voicemails.
“Are you back in the city?”
“Can I see you?…Mandy…I need to see you.”
“Can we talk about this? Give me another chance to explain.”
Yeah, no. Not good enough. He lied about something major. Not a small thing. I’m still as furious as the day I caught him.
“Grant lied about the doctor’s report. He signed waivers.” She says the last part in a quick low voice. As if it’s a dirty word.
Calvin shakes his head, demeanor ice cold. “Want me to talk to him?”
“No,” I snap. “Definitely not. He needs to figure out he’s a jackass all on his own…if he doesn’t get paralyzed or killed first.”
The joke isn’t funny. Everyone in the room knows it. I feel sick.
“You want me to beat him up?” Cal casually offers.
Camilla and I turn to look at him at the same time. “Beat him up? What are you, fifteen? Besides, Grant would snap you in two.”
Calvin shrugs. “You don’t want me to talk to him. You don’t want me to smack him around. I don’t know why you got me involved.”
Men.
“Do you miss it?” I ask my brother. His retirement seemed smooth from where I stood. I don’t understand why Grant can’t see that. Calvin wasn’t any less devoted to the game.