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“I want to take on a leadership role with the squad this year.”
“Mentor the rookie tight ends, then,” he suggests. “Our only formal leadership positions are captains, and those are snaggedby people who’ve been around longer than you and who weren’t suspended for a year.”
“Thanks for the reminder,” I say dryly.
He shrugs. “Truth is hard, bro. Lead by example.”
“What about the resident bad boy who cleaned up his act?” I suggest half-jokingly.
“Haveyou cleaned it up, though?” he asks.
“I’m trying to. But that suspension, man.” I shake my head. “It’s following me. It’s a shadow I can’t kick.”
“I’m not sure you’ll ever fully kick it,” he says, gentling his tone a bit. “At least not here in Vegas. Memories are short for the good things but long for the negative.”
“Yeah, no shit.”
“So work harder on positive press, then. Try to replace that shadow with a good one. Maybe move out of that place you’re sharing with Dad,” he suggests, and that thought hadn’t occurred to me.
Maybe part of what’s keeping that shadow hanging around is the fact that the guy who was my accomplice in the whole thing is still glued to my side, goading me toward the wrong choices. But he’s my dad. It’s easy to believe he wants the best for me, even if it isn’t always true—even if sometimes he wants what’s best for himself.
And it’s not just that. I can’t abandon him. He was there for me when I needed him, and maybe he needsmenow.
“Did you have a second thing?” he asks.
“Oh, right. My extra ticket to the charity thing. Who ended up with it?” I ask the question casually even though my heart starts to race.
He shrugs. “No idea. Why?”
“Just curious,” I lie.
“Sorry. I gave the ticket to Steve, and I don’t know what happened to it after that.”
Steve. I could go ask Steve, but that would be even weirder than sitting here asking my brother about it.
I need to let it go, and I think in order to do that, I need to get the fuck out of this place for a while.
“Anything else?” he asks, interrupting my thoughts.
I sigh as I make a snap decision. “I’m heading out for a few weeks. Is there anything I need to know while I’m gone?”
“Heading out for a few weeks?” he repeats. “Where are you going?”
Fuck if I know. Out of here. I need a distraction, and the only time I ever really feel distracted is when I’m traveling. “Australia.”
It’s the first place that comes to mind.
“Australia? What’s in Australia?”
“Kangaroos, the Great Barrier Reef…” My lack of knowledge chooses that moment to show up. “Oh! The Outback.”
“Like…the steakhouse?” he asks.
“Well, yeah. Outback Steakhouse is themed around Australia, isn’t it?”
He shrugs. “I guess. How long will you be gone?”
“A month.” The words are out before I can stop them, but I don’t have any reason to sit here fixating on a fucking ghost.
