When You Come Back to Me (Lost Boys #2) - Emma Scott Page 0,101
further blows to the head—as are common in sports like football—can lead to long-term problems. If you follow football, you may have heard recent studies of players developing chronic traumatic encephalopathy.”
“I know what CTE is,” Dad said. “But that’s from repeated injuries to the head. A lifetime’s worth…”
“I’m speaking of your son’s overall brain health, Mr. Whitmore. It has been compromised. My professional recommendation would be that River not play anymore football.”
I would’ve laughed if Dad hadn’t been so heartbroken.
“You don’t understand, doctor. He’s not any ordinary player. River has a gift. He’s going to—”
“Dad.” I shook my head at him. “Can you give us a minute alone, Dr. Stansfield?”
“Of course.” He got to his feet. “I’ll be back to check in on you again in a few hours.”
He left and Dad glowered after him, then put on a bright smile for me. “Doctors have to say stuff like that. They give you the worst-case scenario so you don’t sue them—”
“I’m done playing football.”
A weight lifted off me as if an elephant had been sitting on my chest and finally got up and lumbered away.
“Now, hold on. Don’t let him scare you. We can get a second opinion. There’s hope.”
“No, there isn’t,” I said gently. “Because accident or no accident, I’m quitting football. This wasn’t how I wanted to tell you but…” I shook my head. “I should’ve told you years ago.”
“Years ago? What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I don’t want to go to Alabama. I don’t want to try for the NFL. I don’t want to play football.”
Dad rubbed his lips with his hand, a thousand thoughts behind his eyes. “This is nuts. Is this the head injury?” He laughed weakly. “Should we call the nurse in here? Hey, nurse…?”
Tears stung to watch his hope die right before my eyes. “Dad. It’s real. I’m so sorry. I know you wanted this so bad for me, but I don’t want it for me.”
He looked almost as dazed as if he’d been the one hit on the head. “Well…Christ, River. What do you want?”
I sucked in a deep breath, my heart pounding, but I was more exhilarated than scared.
“Holden.”
Dad blinked. “What about him?”
“I love him.”
“I’m sure you do. He’s a great friend to you. I’m glad he was there—”
“No, Dad. I love him. I’m in love with him.”
My father’s face went blank. “I…I don’t understand.”
“It’s so easy and yet I’ve been making it so complicated my whole life. Boxing up how I felt and shoving it away. But I can’t do it anymore. I want to stay in Santa Cruz. I want to work in our shop, Dad, and expand it. It’s ready for that. I want to be here for you and Amelia. And Mom. Every hour she has left.” I swallowed hard. “And I want to be with Holden.”
Dad stared as if seeing me for the first time. Which I supposed was true. The first day of the life I was always meant to live.
My father stood up and paced the bedside, rubbing his lips with his hand. “I just…I don’t… You’re gay? Is that what you’re telling me? How is that possible?”
“You think it’s impossible? You think a jock can’t be gay?” I shook my head. “No one should be labeled and shoved in a box, Dad. And I can’t do it to myself. So yes, that’s what I’m telling you,” I said, feeling a hundred feet tall, even lying in a hospital bed. “I’m gay.”
A stunned silence fell, and I’d never felt so close to Holden than in that moment. He’d braved this experience with his own parents and had nearly died for it. I would’ve given anything for him to be here, holding my hand, helping me through these tense seconds in which I waited to hear if my father was still my father.
“Are you…okay?” I said, tears burning behind my eyes. “I really would love to hear that you’re okay with it, Dad. Because nothing’s changed. I’m still me.”
“I don’t know how I feel,” Dad said. “Except…I love you. I know that. I hate seeing you in here. I was scared to death. I thought I’d lose you. Can we start there?”
“Yeah,” I whispered. “We can start there.”
My father put his arms around me and then a sob that had been locked inside me for years burst free. The guilt and shame pouring out, breaking down the walls of my plastic life and letting the air in.