being called on my own shit in front of everyone all because he thought I was laughing at him.
“You sure you want to do this right now, Landon?” Coaches and players start trying to separate Cash and I when they see where this is going. “You sure you want to have this conversation, here, right now?”
Fucking right I want to.
“Yes,” I say laughing. I’m glad someone’s finally calling me on my shit but it doesn’t stop my own anger either.
He shoves me first and I have to catch myself against the locker. With a dark gaze, I look up and am met with an even darker one. I’ve never in my life seen Cash this angry. And never with me.
My hands start shaking as I feel the adrenaline jolt through me. “You ready for me to break that million-dollar arm?”
He fucking laughs at me right then. “I’d like to see you try, asshole.”
“How long have you been fucking Macy?” I ask, curious how long the two of them have been going behind my back. Probably years.
“Don’t say shit like that unless you want an honest answer.”
“You warning me?”
“I guess I am.” He smiles back at me, a glowering look that makes me want to wipe it off his fucking face. “Don’t ask unless you want the truth.”
He shoves me back again. It’s like a goddamn shoving match. “How long have you been fucking, Madison?”
I don’t answer him. Instead I punch him.
“I hope your nose is crooked, you bastard!”
“Yeah,” I spit blood on the floor. “Your face isn’t so pretty now either, asshole.”
He smiles with blood running down the side of his face. “Still pretty enough for Sports Illustrated.”
December 2, 2013
I get the phone call I knew was coming all along. Coach wants me to come to his office. He’s pissed. I can hear it in his voice. Leave it to me to fuck up once again. I can’t even manage to stay sober knowing that a drug test was coming.
I knock on Coach’s door and wait before entering.
“Come in, Landon.”
I take a seat in one of the leather chairs in front of his desk. He picks up a stack of papers, “Do you know what this is?”
I nod, “The results of the drug tests.”
He stands and paces back and forth after throwing the papers back on his desk. “Do you know what you’re outcome was?”
I know and I’m not going to lie about it. “Yeah.”
“Landon,” he starts off saying. He’s breathing hard trying to keep calm. “Son, you knew this test was coming up. You know this team needs you, you’re an important part of it.” He’s laying the guilt on thick. “You couldn’t stay clean, could you?”
I don’t answer because I have nothing to say. Life is a bitch and I’m at her mercy.
Coach puts his hands on his hips. “I went to bat for you, Landon.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “But it didn’t matter.” He sighs loudly. “They’re pulling your scholarship, you’re out of the Bowl game and you must take drug and alcohol classes before you can even think about playing ball next year.”
Every single word he just uttered is like a bullet to the chest. He just ripped my fucking chest wide open. I have nothing left. I’ve lost everything I care about, football, Macy, Cash, Alexa, and Steven. I deserved it but it still fucking hurts. I can’t blame anyone but myself.
I rest my elbows on my knees and scrub my face with my hands. What the fuck am I going to do now?
Coach Lander leans against the desk in front of me, “You need help, Landon,” he says in a sincere voice. “I’ve watched you for the last three years and with each passing year I see you giving up.” He sighs, “You need to find that young man you were before the accident. The one I saw dominating the field your senior year. I know he’s in there, every once in a while he’ll make an appearance but never sticks around for long.”
I meet his eyes for the first time since stepping foot in his office. “And what if I can’t, Coach?”
He smiles, “Never doubt yourself, Landon. Everything may seem fucked up right now but things have a way of working out in the long run.”
His words feel empty, I feel empty. I’ve got nothing left. This is what I deserve though. I’ve created this life I’m living and have no one to blame but myself.