But even having them doesn’t fix the hollow feeling in my chest, because my father’s words are still echoing in my head.Useless. Flighty. No sense of loyalty.
Another message comes through. Tiff this time, who is no doubt at Zach’s house now with little Ella. Guilt over not greeting her and Ella at the airport weighs heavily on me. They’re here because I helped make it happen, and I don’t even have the decency to greet them at the airport.
Tiff:Happy birthday, Honey! Zach mentioned that you weren't feeling great, so you might not be able to get to the game tomorrow. Can we come over to your dorm and see you before the game? Ella wants to giveyou the biggest hug. We'd only stay for a few minutes. Love you.
I press my palm against my mouth to keep from crying in the middle of the lobby. Ella. Sweet, sticky-handed Ella, who smiles every time I walk into a room. How do I say no to that? How do you tell a three-year-old the truth of the world and break her little heart? How can I tell Tiff no when she’s offering me unconditional love? When I only suffered through my father and Jonathan to help them?
I can’t.
I stare at the text, my thumbs hovering over the keyboard, but no words come. What am I supposed to say? That I'll be there with a smile on my face when I can barely stand? That I'll hug Ella and pretend everything's okay when my father just called me useless in front of his entire office?
The phone screen blurs through my tears.
I shove it back in my bag without responding.
Maybe my father's right. Maybe Jenni's right. Maybe everyone who's ever looked at me and seen someone not good enough has been right all along.
I push off the wall and force my legs to move.
One foot in front of the other.
That's all I can manage right now.
Just keep moving and get myself as far away from this place, and my father as humanly possible.
I tie my cleats for the third time, even though they’re already secure. My hands need something to do that isn’t checking my phone again.
“You’re going to break those laces if you keep that up,” Tiff says, settling onto the bench beside me with Ella on her lap. Mike stands behind her with his arms crossed as he watches me.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re really not,” Mike says flatly. “You look like you’re about to throw up.”
“Game nerves.”
Mike glances down at Ella, then back at me. “Right. Sure. That's totally what this is.”
I don't look up from my cleats. “Drop it, Mike.”
“Can't do that, man. You're about to walk onto that field in front of seventy thousand people and six NFL scouts. You need your head straight.”
“My head is straight.”
“Is Honey-bee coming?” Ella asks, her little voice cutting through the tension. She's holding Mr. Nibbles, the stuffed bee she brought for Honey, and my chest tightens.
“I don't know, Ella-bear.”
I can feel Mike watching me, can feel the question I'm not asking hanging in the air.
“Liv's working on her,” Mike says finally, and I know he can see right through me. “That's all I've heard. She's trying.”
I nod once, not trusting myself to say more.
Tiff reaches over and squeezes my arm. “That's good, right? Olivia can be pretty persuasive.”
“Yeah.” The word comes out rough. “She can be.”
I want to ask more. Want to know if Honey's okay, if she slept, if she's still as broken as she was when she walked away from me last night. But I can't. Because if I start asking, I won't stop, and I need to focus.