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I drop my elbows to my knees and lean forward, trying to block some of the wind from hitting him. “Not often you see it without sixty-five thousand people filling the seats, I guess.”
I knew Dad was in the stadium tonight, even if no one else knew it. He was watching the game from Declan’s office. He did the same thing last week at the Thanksgiving game. Managed to get in and out without anyone seeing him. He hasn’t been seen at a game since he stepped down. Didn’t want to confuse the players, he said. Didn’t want to fuel the press. Doesn’t seem to be making a difference, though, and my shit performance tonight isn’t gonna help that.
“You calmed down yet?”
Shame washes over me. “Not my best behavior. I get it.”
“Do you?” He looks small sitting here in the dark cold night. And he’s never looked small a day in his life.
He hasn’t been to a game since he stepped down. Didn’t want to confuse the players, he said. Didn’t want to fuel the press. Doesn’t seem to be making a difference, though, and my shit performance tonight isn’t gonna help that.
“You’ve spent the last few months turning into another player, Callen. One I don’t recognize. One who’s going to ruin everything you’ve worked so hard to achieve. Care to tell me what’s going on with you?”
“Nothing, Dad. It’s all good.” Complete bullshit, but that’s what I do now. I bullshit my way through it. My day. My game.
“Don’t lie and tell me everything is fine. You’ve been a shit liar your whole life, and I didn’t raise you to be a good liar.”
A gust of frigid wind whips through the stadium and settles in my chest.
“Come on. Let’s get back inside. It looks like it’s going to snow,” I tell him, pretty fucking sure my conscience can’t handle it if he gets sicker.
“The passes you dropped tonight were cake passes you’ve been catching since pee-wees. You don’t drop cake passes, son. You popped off to your offensive coordinator. You got in an argument with your quarterback. You argued with Declan. You would have never done that with me. None of this is like you, so don’t tell me there’s nothing wrong.”
I lean back in the hard black, plastic-molded seat and cross my arms over my chest, staring at the field. “Kind of a lot of shit going on right now.”
I leave my sentence vague. My plan wasn’t to guilt my father over his diagnosis tonight or ever. I’m a grown man who’s gonna what? Cry over his daddy not coaching him anymore?
Dad pulls a Kings knit beanie from his coat and yanks it on his head.
“This isn’t about me. There’s something else there. There has to be—because you know me better than this, Callen. I’m going to get through this. I’m a fighter. We’re both fighters. And I’ve got way too much to live for to not win this fight.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, old man.” I take my gloves from my pocket and hand them to him. He shouldn’t be out here with a weakened immune system. “Come on. Let’s get back inside. It’s colder than a witch’s tit out here.”
Dad shakes his head and looks back out at the stadium he helped make great.
“You know something?” He asks, then waits me out like always.
“Know what?” I answer him, because he’s more stubborn than I am most days, and the quiet moment I was looking for when I came up here after the game is already shot to shit.
“You were my second chance. Declan, Nat, and Cooper... they didn’t have the childhood you did. They didn’t get the same father you did. They didn’t have two happy parents.Your mother—she made me a better man.” He smiles like he’s lost in a memory.
“She made me more present. I had a more stable job by the time you came around. I had a partner to balance all the things. Because of her, you got the best of me. And I’m not done watching you grow the fuck up yet, apparently, because you’re acting like a child throwing a temper tantrum because his favorite toy was taken away. I know, unlike Declan, you actually wanted to play for the Kings. But I don’t think I’m what’s tying you up like this. So you’re gonna sit here and tell me who or what is holding the goddamned rope, or I’m going to sit out here all night, and your mother is going to bitch us both out when she has to send one of your brothers to find us. The choice is yours, Callen.”
“You know you’re fucking stubborn, old man,” I groan, pretty sure I don’t have a fucking choice in the matter. Nothing like being nearly thirty and fucking shit up so badly your sick dad has to solve your problems. “But you’re not the only one.”
“That I am. But don’t think for a minute I can’t wait you out, kid. I’ve done it before. And I’ll do it again. You never made anything easy. You always had to learn everything the hard way. I’ve waited you out a time or two before, and I’ll do it again.”
I look at him.
Really look.
His skin has a gray tint to it already, and he’s only a few weeks into the more aggressive treatment they decided to switch to, but the fire is still there. You hear men talk about what it’s like growing up in the shadow of a legend, but they rarely mention what it’s like watching that legend deteriorate in front of your eyes.
“Callen, it’s fucking cold. Speak, son.”
“There was a girl . . .”
“There always is.” Dad’s laugh turns into a cough. “Was she the right girl?”
