I survived it.
***
Carson
BEING SIDELINED FUCKING sucked, especially when all I wanted to do was hide behind closed doors and drink myself into a stupor until my damn arm was better. But I still cared about the team, and wallowing in my misery would hurt morale. Normally, I liked being known as the outgoing one, but now it was biting me in the ass.
I zipped up my VVU warm-up jacket to my chin and jealously watched my teammates suit up. Even though I wasn’t playing, I was still going to carry the flag out of the tunnel. I supposed I should be grateful that the team thought highly enough of me that they wanted me to, but instead I felt like a fraud. It wasn’t worth arguing about, though. So I would carry the damn flag, wave at the crowd, and play my fucking part. Apparently, I was a “fan favorite.” Fuck my life.
Beside me, Jake adjusted his pads. “You okay?”
“Sure.” I wasn’t, and we both knew it, but there was nothing to be done about it. Besides, Jake didn’t need to worry about me. In my rare moments of not feeling like a pitiful jackass, I realized that what he’d said was right—he did have a lot more riding on this season than I did. Jake was a phenomenal receiver, but the shitty hand he’d been dealt in life meant he hadn’t gotten to showcase that. I hoped he got an agent who could talk him into exploiting his situation as a human-interest story. ESPN and viewers would eat that shit up. I doubted Jake would go for it, though. It wasn’t his style. But in the cutthroat world of professional sports, my view was that he should take advantage of everything he could.
“I’m glad you’ll be out there,” he said. “I know it sucks, but it wouldn’t be the same without you.”
“Thanks.” I appreciated the sentiment, but he wouldn’t see me during the game. My plan was to stay out of the way unless the crowd needed pumping up. Then I supposed I would trot myself out like a damn show pony. Christ. I was seriously questioning my past antics.
Coach Coyle walked in and gave his pregame non-speech, and then it was time to go. For the first time ever, my heart didn’t pound and my chest didn’t swell with pride as I ran out of the tunnel while “Enter Sandman” played and the fans jumped up and down, vibrating the stands.
I felt nothing.
***
SOMETHING THAT SUCKED worse than being sidelined was coming home afterward to an empty house. I’d fucked up beyond belief. I never should have given in to my feelings for Becca because there was no going back, and now I hadn’t just lost a romantic relationship with her—I’d lost having her in my life at all. I hadn’t even begun to process losing Roman as well. Thinking about the gaping hole in my life that the Zizzos had once filled was too much because I couldn’t even think of Becca without a fierce ache overtaking my entire body.
It was my own damn fault. But she was better off without me. I’d underestimated her in my need to protect her, and if I was honest with myself, “protecting” her had been self-serving. I hadn’t wanted to see her with anyone else. Now, though, I realized that Becca was smart enough not to date a jackass, and if she was momentarily fooled, she would kick him to the curb soon enough… just like she’d done with me.
I’d pushed her to the breaking point because our history had blinded her to seeing the truth about me. The thing was that although she was better off without me, I was not better off without her. Nowhere close. But that was my problem.
My phone rang, and I reached for it, thinking it was Jake. He’d wanted me to come out to Bleakers, but I’d declined, which was a first for me. I wasn’t big on drinking alone, but I could not deal with Rachel’s well-meaning twenty questions or with seeing my friends happy with their girls while I was fucking miserable. Yeah, I’m a self-centered asshole.
For a fleeting second, I wondered if maybe it would be better to go out. I could easily find a girl to go home with to help me forget Becca. But the thought of being physical with another girl after being with Becca turned my stomach. With Becca, I’d experienced love. Everything else would be a