“Why not just say he’s stepping down and be done with it?” Mason asks.
Drawing in a long breath, Chris looks at Mason, then steadies his gaze on me. “Maybe he needed to be heard. I think it’s brave.”
Coach starts speaking again, and we return our attention to the television. “I committed a horrible crime when I covered up what my daughter did. And I knew I’d have to live with that. What I wasn’t prepared for was to live with the guilt of two young people who’d have each done the right thing had I not been there steering them in the wrong direction. I watched my daughter turn into an alcoholic, a cutter, a young woman who’d rather experiment with drugs than live in the moral hell I’d trapped her in.”
“Jesus,” Mason whispers. “I didn’t know she’d gotten that bad.”
“We didn’t want to see what we didn’t understand,” Chris says. He shifts his gaze to me and grimaces. “And that goes beyond Trish.”
Coach takes a long, deep breath. He looks like he might disintegrate into tears at any moment. “I watched Arrow Woodison, a man who was like a son to me, take up drinking and drugs and throw away his football career while he tried to punish himself for a crime he didn’t commit.” He wipes the tears off his cheeks. “When you make a decision like that as a father,” Coach says, “you tell yourself you’re acting out of love. The truth was, I was acting out of fear. I was afraid for my daughter, and I was afraid for myself and how lonely my life would be if I lost her. If I’d truly been acting out of love, when she called me and said, ‘Daddy, I’ve been in an accident. I think I need to call the police,’ I’d have listened to what happened and agreed. Then I’d have stood by her side while she told the truth and did what was right. But I’ve let fear lead my whole life for the last four months. I can’t apologize enough for what that did to my daughter and what it did to Arrow, who was innocent in all of this.”
Dad’s hand tightens on my shoulder, and I realize he too has tears streaming down his cheeks. I wonder if he’s half as overwhelmed as I am. I’m swamped in relief—the final shackle of this hell being unlocked.
“I know an apology will never be enough,” Coach says. “But I want to give it anyway. So that when this community sees my daughter in court or sees Arrow in the streets, they can understand the part I had to play in all of it.” Clearing his throat, he folds his paper and tucks it back into his pocket. “That’s all. Thank you.”
Dad squeezes my shoulder one last time before excusing himself, and Chris and Mason turn to me.
“We should have known there was something more going on with you,” Mason says, his voice thick.
“What can we do?” Chris asks.
I shake my head and gesture to where they’re sitting on the couch. “You’re already doing it.” The front door opens and I look over my shoulder to see Dad stepping outside. “I should go talk to him.”
“We’ll be here,” Chris says.
Mason offers his fist and I bump mine against it. “Thank you, you two. You have no idea what this means to me.”
I find Dad sitting on the front porch smoking a cigar. I close the door behind me and he nods to the chair beside him. I take it but shake my head when he offers me a cigar.
“You’ve had quite a day,” he murmurs.
“I’m sorry about everything, Dad.” I lean forward, propping my elbows on my knees. “It never even crossed my mind that Coach would have lied to me like that.”
“I’m glad the truth came out.” He releases a mouthful of smoke. “It has a way of doing that.”
“I guess it does. Eventually.”
“Gwen left today.” He says it as if he’s telling me there’s leftover spaghetti in the fridge. “Don’t look at me like that. She wasn’t happy, and everyone knew it. She thought she wanted the grumpy old man for his money, but it turns out I’m not worth it. She tried to forbid me to go to the station to help you, and you can imagine how well I handled it.” He sighs heavily. “Anyway, she took Katie and went to her mom’s.”