Someone You Love by Kristen Granata

Bryce

“Well, she’s gone. You can stop hiding.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m not hiding. I just ... couldn’t.”

Couldn’t watch her leave.

Couldn’t let her go.

Yet I couldn’t tell her to stay.

Nana lowers herself onto the edge of the bed, and Edward hops up next to her. “You did a wonderful job fixing up this room. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’d have found someone else to do the job.”

Nana lifts a hand to her forehead, rubbing the wrinkled creases. “That’s your problem, my boy. You assume everyone would get along fine without you.”

“Wouldn’t they? We all survive without the people we love.”

“Sure, we survive. Our hearts keep beating, and our minds continue going through the motions. But we’re not here to survive. That isn’t the point. Life isn’t about who can last the longest. It’s more than just existing.”

I don’t bother asking what life is about, in part because I don’t care to hear some fantastical theory about the meaning of life, but also because I know my grandmother will tell me regardless.

“Life is about purpose,” she says. “We all have one.”

I let my head fall back against the headboard. “Are you here to tell me what my purpose is?”

She scoffs. “No one can tell you what your purpose is. You have to discover it.”

I had a purpose once. Football was my reason for getting up every morning, for working hard, training, pushing my body to the limits. My team depended on me. I had one goal—to make sure the quarterback didn’t complete his pass. And I was good at it.

“You assume football was your purpose.” Nana arches an eyebrow. “Right?”

I nod.

“Football was your career. And sure, in your career, you served a purpose. We all do. But that’s not the only job you have in life.” A distant smile touches her lips. “Your father wore many hats. But if you asked him what his purpose was? He wouldn’t list his job title. He’d say his purpose was to love his family—you, and your mother. To provide for you, to take care of you, to teach you, to help you grow into a man who could one day do the same for his family.”

Disappointment burns deep in my gut. “Well, I won’t be having my own family.”

“You could.”

“I won’t.”

“You won’t have much of anything if you keep pushing everyone away.”

I scrub my hands over my face, my composure wearing thinner than it has in years. “It’s better to push them away than to have them walk away. At least then I have control over something in my fucking life.”

“Control.” Nana lets the word settle between us. “Everyone wants control over things they have no business controlling. You know what you should focus your energy on controlling? Your fear. You’re so afraid of getting hurt, of trusting, and you’re letting it dictate your life.”

“Fear is important. It keeps you safe.”

“Sometimes that’s true. But other times, it just holds you back. I can’t stand watching you do this to yourself, and I don’t know what it’s going to take to get it through to you. People are out there worse off than you are, Bryce. People are doing a lot more with a lot less than what you’ve been blessed with.”

My voice strains as I try not to yell at my grandmother. “I know that. But they also haven’t had someone they trusted spread lies to every news station in the country, and turn the world against them. People used to love me. They used to cheer for me when I stepped out onto that field. Kids wanted to be like me. After Ariel’s story aired, everyone turned their backs on me. I lost everything. Very few people can understand what that’s like.”

Nana’s eyes widen, as if she’s having a revelation. “You keep saying you don’t trust people, but maybe it’s you who you don’t trust. Maybe deep down, you believe what everyone said about you. Maybe you haven’t fully forgiven yourself for the fight you got into with that man in the bar.”

Monster.

Out of control.

Reckless.

Foolish.

Selfish.

The headlines of every article written about me flash through my mind on a reel as tears burn behind my lids. “I went from being a champion—a wonder, a hero, a role model—to the piece of shit who let everyone down and threw his career away.”

Nana rests her hands on my shoulders. “You carried too much pressure on these shoulders, my boy. It’s the life of a professional athlete. But you’re not superhuman. The media might chew you up and spit you out, but that’s not reality. It’s not the truth. You know who you are deep down. You’re a good man who made a mistake.”

She glances down at Edward, and strokes the top of his head. “If you learn from your mistakes, and continue to learn and grow, then you can show the world who you really are. Don’t stay stuck in the past. Don’t assume you’re unlovable because you’re not perfect. No one is.”

I push a shaky hand through my hair. I know Nana is right. I know that, logically. But I don’t know how to let myself believe it, and move forward.

Nana smirks. “Besides, OJ Simpson got away with murder, and people still love him. The world can learn to love you again.”

I laugh despite the pain in my chest. “You’re comparing me to OJ? That doesn’t help.”

“But it got you to smile.” She pats my knee as she rises from the bed. “You let that amazing girl walk out of your life with tears in her eyes thinking she wasn’t good enough to be what you need, when you’re the one who feels like he isn’t good enough for her.” She jabs her finger into my chest. “I just hope you can live with that.”

Her final words serve as the straw that breaks the camel’s back.

I leave Edward with Nana, and flee to my house. I submerge my aching body in the scalding water of the tub. But even in the safety of my solitude, the weight of my own thoughts is too much to bear. My defenses crumble, and everything I’ve been holding in comes pouring out like a flood. Sobs rack my body, my back hunched, while I cover my face with my hands.

I cry for the life I once had.

I cry for the poor choice I made that changed my life forever when I decided to get into a bar fight.

I cry for everything I’ve lost.

I cry for my uncertain future.

And I cry for the beautiful soul who took my heart with her when she left—the incredible woman who I’m too afraid to love.

Sometimes, fear can be more debilitating than anything.

“Dude, you look like shit.”

I groan as I glance at the door. “What the hell are you guys doing here?”

Anthony flashes me his signature grin, and frames his face with his hands. “Don’t act like you aren’t happy to see this face.”

Watson rolls his eyes. “Yeah, because your ugly mug is going to make him feel better.”

Bentley walks up behind me and grips my neck. “Nana called us, and told us what’s going on. How you hangin’ in there?”

“I’m fine, guys. It’s not that big of a deal. You didn’t have to come out all this way just to check on me.”

Watson snatches an apple from the fruit bowl in the middle of the island, and tosses it in the air before catching it and taking a bite. “Nana said Charly hasn’t returned any of your calls in over a week.”

“Are you surprised?” Anthony shakes his head at me. “You fucked up, bro.”

Bentley smacks the back of his head. “Not helping.”

“He needs to hear the truth.”

Watson talks around the wad of chewed-up apple in his mouth. “Ignore him. You can’t take relationship advice from a man who has never been in a relationship.”

I shake my head. “Anthony’s right. I fucked up.”

Anthony raises an eyebrow. “So, what did you do?”

I place my palms on the counter. “I told her we should end things between us because one day she’d come to resent me for my disability like everyone else.”

Bentley winces, and Watson blows out a low whistle.

Anthony laughs. “I’ve never had a girlfriend, but even I know you never compare a woman to anyone else. And you sure as shit don’t tell her what she wants. You’re lucky she didn’t chop your dick off.”

Bentley crosses his arms over his chest. “Is that how you think people feel about your disability? You think we resent you for it?”

“Over time, it wears on you. The things I can’t do, the constant pain I’m in. If it wears on me, it’s gotta wear on a partner.” I hike a shoulder. “My abilities are limited, and I’ve accepted that. But someone else—someone like Charly—she doesn’t have to.”

“So, instead of letting her decide what kind of life she wants, you made the choice for her.” Bentley nods. “I can see why she’s upset.”

Watson’s eyebrows pull together. “What is it you think she’s going to resent you for? What do you think she’s going to want from you that you can’t give her?”

Anthony’s eyes go wide. “Oh, shit. Is your dick broken? I know you were paralyzed for a while, but I thought your junk was okay.”

Watson and Bentley give him simultaneous smacks on the back of his head.

“My dick isn’t broken, but thanks for your concern.”

“Then what?” Anthony rubs his head. “What does Charly want that you can’t give her?”

I spread my arms out wide. “I don’t know, okay? Just forget it. I don’t expect you guys to understand. You’re still living the dream. Everyone still worships you every time you step out on that field. You don’t get what I’ve been through.”

Watson stalks toward me, anger flashing in his eyes. “No. You don’t get to give us the whole you don’t get me speech. We’re not dumb.” He pauses, cutting a glance to Anthony. “Well, some of us aren’t.”

Anthony flips him off.

“If you want us to understand, you can communicate and tell us.” Watson stands toe to toe with me, lifting his chin a fraction. “But I don’t think that’s the issue here. It sounds like you’re being a scared little bitch.”

“Watson,” Bentley starts.

“No, no. It’s been six years. I’d say it’s about time we stop coddling him.” Watson folds his arms over his chest. “What Ariel did to you, selling you out like that and making up lies, it was fucked up. And yeah, the media ran with it. That’s nothing new. That’s what the media always does. They twist shit, and try to make us all look like chumps because it puts money in their pockets. But instead of facing it, and setting the story straight, you ran away to your grandma, and gave up everything.

“We have a PR team who could’ve handled it. You could’ve made a statement, and brushed it off. Ariel wouldn’t have been a blip on anyone’s radar. Coach would’ve helped you, whether you wanted to play on special teams, or get you a coaching position somewhere. Even if it wasn’t with us, you could’ve still been involved in the game you loved. But you backed down, and you let Ariel win. You let the asshole who instigated that fight in the bar win.” Watson pokes my forehead with his finger. “You let your demons win.”

The room falls eerily quiet. Not even Anthony has a smartass comment to make.

Watson holds up his palms. “Look, I’m sorry if I crossed the line, but—”

“No.” I blow out a long breath through my lips. “You didn’t cross a line, and you’re not wrong. It was difficult going through what I went through. I was scared. I was angry. And I was bitter. I overcame a lot, but I guess the one thing I wasn’t able to shake was the guilt. I was responsible for what happened to my spine. I didn’t fall off a horse, and I wasn’t in a car accident. Nothing happened to me. I was the one who made the choice to fight while I was drunk in a bar, and when the media started saying all those horrible things about me, I let myself believe them.”

Bentley walks around the corner of the island. “You don’t deserve what happened to you, regardless of how it happened. No one deserves to have a lifelong injury.”

Anthony nods. “You have to make the best of what you’ve got. And looking around this kitchen right now, you’ve got a lot.”

“You have Nana, and this beautiful inn,” Watson adds.

“And you have Charly.” Bentley stuffs his hands in his pockets. “I know she’s angry with you, but she’s only angry because she’s hurt. And if it’s hurt, that means she still cares about you. So, we can work with that.”

“We?” I arch an eyebrow.

“We’re a team, baby.” Anthony rubs his palms together, and a sly grin spreads across his face. “Huddle up, boys. Let your team captain tell you what our next play is gonna be.”