Page 167 of These Secret Years

He grimaces. “What I mean is⁠—”

“No, I know what you mean. It’s what my dad was always saying but didn’t ever have the balls to actually say. I won’t get a fair shake. I’ll get sidelined. I’ll waste years of my life wishing I’d been born some other way. Well—news flash—I’ve already been there. Done that. I’ll take my chances.”

“Knight, goddamnit. You don’t think that kid down there deserves to be with someone who isn’t fucking miserable and talked about in nasty whispers all the time? You know the way people talk—you’ve been in locker rooms⁠—”

“I—he deserves to be with someone who’s proud to be with him, which I am.”

“Which you should be because like I said—he’s fucking great, but what’s it gonna look like in a couple years? Five years? When your offensive line gets sick of hearing all the shit the opposing defense says about you on the field before the snap—making them question whether they want to play for you or even be around you because whatever they call you, they’ll call them that, too. It’s not just about you—in the NFL especially—you know this—it’s about the team.”

I hate what he’s saying because it’s true, and I hate myself even more for being so short-sighted to have never thought of it that way. I feel sick. All the alcohol I drank all day suddenly reasserts itself in my intestines.

My lips are trembling as I press them together. “How can I ask him to be with me if I can’t even tell anyone I’m with him?”

“It’s gotta come down to values, doesn’t it? Which matters more?”

“Football can’t matter more than a person.”

“No. No, you’re right. It can’t. But a dream can. A career can. What you do for your community can. You’re so young, Knight. You don’t need to be making any final decisions, but please remember you do have options.”

I exhale, annoyed. “That’s exactly what my dad would say.” And did say I don’t know how many times.

“He was my best friend. It might have come up a time or two. He loved you with all his heart, Knight.”

“Stop,” I say weakly, struggling to sit.

“Wanna know what I think?”

“What?” I nearly yell.

He doesn’t flinch. “I think you were gonna meet the man who made you think about all this eventually. And I think you’re lucky it’s now so you can make the right decision for yourself. Not for him. For yourself.”

“I don’t think of it like that.”

“I know you don’t, but after this week? I think you know a little better now how life can change in the goddamn blink of an eye, and you can lose the person you made all those sacrifices for in the first place, and then what’ve you got?”

I swallow hard. “I didn’t need to hear that, tonight.”

“Well, I guess I needed to say it. And this too: don’t do anything now that you can’t take back. The people who really love you, they’ll understand.”

I nod, agreeing at least to end the conversation.

He gives my leg a pat and stands. He’s gone a few minutes before someone takes his seat. I look over at Sullivan and reach out my hand.

He takes it. “Sorry. I woke up starving.”

“Was the food any good?”

“It was. There are plenty of leftovers, too.”

“My uncle Luke had a lot of shit to say.”

“He’s a good guy. Loves you a lot.”

I shake my head. The way the men in this family show love isn’t in the language I speak it. “I guess. You’re not like—planning to leave tomorrow or anything are you?” I ask after a minute.

“No, I was thinking more like next week. I want to check in with my mom and…”

“You should see your dad,” I tell him. “Maybe you even want to take me to meet him. Just an offer.”