Chapter Fifteen: The Worst and Best Kept Secrets

****Trev****

“The car will be here in about five minutes.” I yelled up the stairs in my apartment and smiled at the sound of her rushed footsteps on the floor above. 

“I’m almost ready. Just getting my shoes.” She yelled back down and I kept pacing between the stairs and the doorway. I didn’t know why though; it didn’t help get rid of any of the anxiousness I felt about the night ahead. 

It was our big moment, the night when we were going public with our relationship and we’d picked a doozy to do it with. It was the Bucks’ annual postseason banquet that was hosted by the organization to celebrate its accomplishments and thank those who made them possible. 

It was extra special that year since we’d won the Super Bowl and the organization had planned an over the top celebration that was getting a lot of attention from local and some national press. Which meant that a lot of media would be there when we finally let the secret out of the bag. 

Not that it was the best kept secret. Our families, closest friends, Bucks’ management, and Pam’s boss all knew. The later I’d learned about while we were still at the cabin when it dawned on me that she should’ve been working instead of taking care of me. That’s when she let me know about her conversation with Roger and how she was taking time off.

Her hiatus lasted until a couple days before the Bucks’ event. She’d gone back to work and explained why her reporting on the Bucks wouldn’t be an issue anymore. It wasn’t a secret that I didn’t like most journalists, at least the pushy sports ones, but I came to respect Roger after he had gone out of his way help Pam and kept the news of my retirement quiet until I announced it.

My retirement press conference was one of the hardest things I ever had to do. It wasn’t pretty; I choked up and cried, but what made it doable was the support that I had there: my Mom, Will, Ryan, the rest of my teammates, Pam’s dad and Pam. 

She’d done exactly what she’d said she would do. She‘d stayed by my side through the weeks since my injury and I owed a lot of why I was able to do the press conference and start down the road to recovery and acceptance, to her. And it was one reason why I was anxious to finally go out with her; because it meant I could reveal how I’d made it through everything.

The sound of an alert from my phone told me that the car had arrived and I turned to call up the stairs again but stopped when I caught sight of her coming down them. She had on a short, tight, black dress, stiletto heels and her hair was styled like it was the night she’d gone out with Paisley, all those months ago at her parents’ house.

Chapter Fourteen: The Reasons Why

****Trev****

I couldn’t remember ever being in that much pain. My chest and the back of my head ached from the hit but that wasn’t anything compared to my neck. The insane pain was enough to tell me that there wasn’t going to be an easy fix for whatever was wrong, but as I laid there the next morning with Pam I told myself that the worst I was probably looking at was having surgery.

All I wanted was for someone to give me answers and tell me how I could fix it. I thought that might happen when the whoosh of the door hinted that someone was coming in the room, but the small footsteps on the linoleum floor told me I was in for another round with my nurse. 

“Good morning.” She chipperly smiled down at me and I grunted, waking Pam up. “Glad to see you’re in a better mood.” She grinned, completely ignoring my scowl and checked my IV. I’d run out of pain medicine about an hour before but hadn’t pushed the button for more and after noticing it, she looked back down at me. 

“Do you want any more?” She dropped the happy nurse act and seemed genuinely concerned.

“No.” I firmly stated, but they looked at me like I was crazy.

“Are you sure?” Pam asked as she sat up and placed a hand on my arm.

“No.” I repeated and scowled at her. “I don’t like how it makes me feel.” I didn’t feel in control of myself with them and decided that normal  pain medicine would have to do; no matter how much it hurt. Pam nodded and after the nurse brought me something else, she stood up and walked over to my side of the bed.

“Do you remember what happened?” She whispered as her fingers brushed a strand of my hair off my forehead.


“I remember getting hit, nothing after that until seeing you walk through that door,” I pointed to the one that everyone kept going out of, “and then it’s blank again until I woke up earlier in pain.” I knew that there was a lot more in between and it looked like she was about to fill me in when there was a knock on the door.

My stomach dropped as my eyes followed a doctor, Randy (one of the Buck’s trainers), Coach, and Jimmy. Seeing the last two removed any doubt about it being bad but even more telling was the fact that they wouldn’t look at me as they walked to other side of the room.

“Mr. Davila, I’m Dr. Fraser.” The doctor started after Pam helped me adjust the bed and pillows so I could sit up. It took a ton out of me to move and his forehead wrinkled with worry. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like something else for the pain.”

I gave him a look that left little doubt about my determination to not change my mind and he nodded. “We’ve taken a look at the x-rays that we took last night. . .”

“Perhaps we should discuss this in private.” Jimmy interrupted and motioned to Pam. Her weight shifted to the foot closer to the door, like she was getting ready to take Jimmy’s hint about leaving and I grabbed her hand.

“She stays. Anything you want to say to me, you say it in front of her.” My eyes darted sideways at her, worried for a moment that she’d be upset that in one fell swoop I’d outed our relationship to everyone in the room. She gave me a small smile and placed her other hand over mine. Knowing we were on the same page, I turned my attention back to them.

Chapter Thirteen: The Moment the World Stopped Moving

****Pamela****

Maybe my hatred of winter comes from the fact that I’ve spent years standing and sitting on sidelines in freezing weather.  It seemed a real possibility as I stood on the field watching the Bucks and Panthers play in the Conference Championship. 

From childhood, I’d gone with Mom and my sisters to watch Dad coach games and while I loved seeing him and watching the players, there’d been many times that I wished that the stadiums were indoor, something that I found myself wishing for at that moment as a teeth chattering wind blew across the field.

I stuffed my hands even further in my pockets, hoping that it would help me find some warmth but deep down I knew it wouldn’t do any good. The cold had seeped into my bones and wouldn’t go away no matter how many cups of coffee or cocoa I drank or how many layers of clothes I wore.  

The fact that I couldn’t move around didn’t help much either and I felt a brief flash of envy as I watched the players on the field who I knew were warmer because they could. But any envy soon turned to sympathy as I witnessed Trev misread the Panthers’ defense, almost throwing an interception.  

No, I don’t really envy any of them. I thought to myself as I watched Trev and the others return to the sideline. Both teams were under a huge amount of pressure to win the game, but the Bucks felt it more so than the Panthers. They’d met two other times, once during preseason and again during regular season with the Bucks losing both games. 


It was something that gnawed at Trev, and throughout the season he watched countless hours of video of the Panthers’ defense and offense, trying to get an advantage on them. He wholeheartedly believed in the team’s motto, We don’t win or lose games by what one person does, we win or lose as a team, but he also believed that each player was accountable for their performance on and off the field and I knew he would beat himself up about his mistake.

The roar of another cutting wind blew over the field, adding to the already deafening noise level of the crowd and players, which was why the sound of a single voice cutting through the thickness of all others astonished me.  “God damnit!! What the fuck was that?” The sound of Trev’s frustrations caught mine and several other reporter’s attention.

“Trev, chill! We’ll get them next time.” Tiny tried to reason with, him but it was no use. Once Trev made a mistake no one could convince him otherwise. He wouldn’t “chill” but would go over and over his mistake, figuring out a way to fix it, and then make sure it never happened again, willing himself to perfection. 

Chapter Eleven: Keeping the Obvious Hidden

Couple Notes for this chapter:

- NSFW

- I've included the song that's mentioned in the chapter.

- Thanks for reading!

****Pamela****

The rays of the rising sun peeked through the blinds, filling the room with slivers of warm light. One was particularly relentless in its attempts to wake me up, honing in on my closed eyelids, warming them and tempting me to open them up to see the golden, happy hue it cast throughout the room. They were deceiving though, hinting at a warmth that didn’t exist if I ventured out from under the covers and I declared my defiance by pulling the covers over my head and turning my back on the determined ray.

But its absence brought back the cold that I wanted to escape and I snuggled closer to the middle of the bed, reaching my arm and leg over for the heat that usually radiated from Trev’s body. Usually. . .But that morning the coldness of the sheets seeped into my skin and jostled me further from sleep, pushing away any remaining grogginess, and brought to my mind the still blurry image of Trev kissing my cheek as he got out of bed. It was enough to make me finally give in and fling the covers back, sighing as I swung my legs over the side of the bed and shivering as my bare feet touched the freezing wood floor.

“I hate winter.” I mumbled to myself as I walked across the room to the dresser. It was mostly true. The beauty of a freshly fallen snow could make me smile, but eventually its beauty always faded and only gray slush, bare trees, and freezing temperatures remained. Along with cold wooden floors. . .the thought made me shiver again and I quickened my effort to find something warm to wear.

The cold that remained in my bones as I left the bedroom made me sneak a quick glance at the thermostat; one moment wishing that it wasn’t working so I could blame it for my inability to get warm and then the next relieved that it was so I could turn it up a couple degrees. It was one subject that we hadn’t agreed on and I had little hope we ever would: What temperature the apartment should be.

We were polar opposites; he always warm, me always cold, and no matter how much I protested, the first couple of nights he insisted that the temperature stay where I liked it. The tossing and turning throughout the first nights and sweaty sheets in the mornings were the last straw though, and on the third night I snuck back into the hallway when Trev got ready for bed and turned the temperature back down.

Chapter Nine: On the Verge of Losing Consciousness

A warning beforehand that this chapter is NSFW. . . 

Also, the songs that are played by Trev and Pamela can be found at the end. Thanks for reading!

****Pamela****

Writing the article about Trev and the Bucks was easy. I had more than enough material and after talking with him and the whole team, I knew what approach I wanted to take for it to have the message that Trev wanted. What wasn’t easy and was often times excruciating was not talking to Trev during the two days that it took me to write the article. Knowing that I’d be busy and focused on writing, he offered to leave me alone until I gave it to him. And while I appreciated his thoughtfulness and originally thought that having no contact with him would make it easier for me to concentrate, I soon found out the opposite was true.

My thoughts regularly went to him and what he could be doing, wondering if he was thinking of me and the day we shared together, sometimes even to the previous weeks and how much had occurred between us. Him going to Appaloosa, which led to us texting, that led to us meeting in Riverview and then him comforting me at the stadium and my hotel room. His request to have me write the article and then following him around and him opening up about his dad and seeing him. The touches that we shared between the two of us and wondering if more would occur when we saw each other again. . . It was all the motivation I needed to work as fast and as long as I could to get the article done and into his hands.

But there was one roadblock in the way before it could happen. I hadn’t told my boss about the agreement that Trev and I had about him approving the final article. With it being done I was forced to face the music and I spent the third morning trying to think of ways to tell Roger. The sound of my phone buzzing served as another reminder that my time had run out and seeing Roger’s name appear on its screen made my heart start to race.

Haines! Weren’t we supposed to meet at eleven?

Shit. I cursed to myself and reached across my desk for the flash drive that contained all the article components. Striding towards his door, my thoughts raced through any number of scenarios of what his reaction could be to learning about Trev’s and my agreement but I didn’t have much time to ponder it. I came face to face with Roger’s closed office door in only a handful of strides and tried to steady my nerves and heartrate as I lifted my hand to knock on it.

“Yup.” His usual greeting traveled through the door and I held my breath as I entered it.

“Sorry I’m late.” I said and took my usual seat in one of the chairs facing him. “I was giving everything a once over before declaring it done and lost track of time.”

“Not a big deal. You’re usually early so I wondered what happened.” The expectant, gigantic smile that spread across his lips as he looked at the flash drive in my hand made my stomach sink. “So it’s done then?”

I nodded. “It is.”

His outstretched hand beckoned me to hand it over. When I didn’t make any move to place it in his hand though, his confused eyes darted up to mine, questioning why I didn’t. “Aren’t you going to hand it over?”

I shook my head and clutched the drive even more. “No. . .at least not yet.” I admitted and he looked at me like I was speaking gibberish. We sat there staring at each other for what felt like forever until he lowered his hand and sat back in his squeaky chair. 

“Care to share why you don’t want to hand it over?” Even though his voice sounded calm, I could tell that annoyance was bubbling under the surface and I knew with what I was about to admit to him, it would more than likely boil over.

Chapter Eight: A Day in the Life

I can't believe it's been so long since I published a chapter for any of my stories! That crazy thing called life kept me away, but now I'm back and will have chapters out as soon as I can get pictures for each of them. Sorry it took so long! Hope you enjoy!

****Trev****

I cursed under my breath as I walked to Jimmy’s office. Nothing good came from being summoned there. It either meant that you’d done something stupid, the organization wasn’t happy with your performance, or that they wanted you to do something for the team. I couldn’t remember doing anything stupid; although Ryan and I switched the offensive line’s helmets when they weren’t looking during practice the week before. The players thought it was funny while the coaches found it disruptive, but I saw no evidence of Ryan which eliminated it as the reason for me being summoned.

I didn’t think it was about my performance either. We were heading into week seven and won five of the six games we played; our only loss being to the Pleasantville Panthers, the team that we almost had the comeback win against during the preseason. That meant that the organization wanted me to do something, and as I turned down the hallway that led to Jimmy’s office I tried to prepare myself for whatever stupid ass thing they wanted me to do.

As I arrived at his door I smiled at several office workers that passed by and then took a moment to collect my thoughts before raising my hand to knock. “Enter!” Jimmy’s voice echoed into the hallway and I took one last deep breath before stepping into his office.

“Trev! Thanks for coming!” He greeted me before I could take two steps in the door.

“When the boss man asks you to stop by his office, it’s probably a good idea to do as he asks.” I said with a smirk and tried not to cringe at his forced laugh.

“True, very true.” He smiled and waved his hand at one of the chairs facing his desk. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

I looked at it and shook my head. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to cut to the chase. The O-line’s meeting in one of the viewing rooms in 20 minutes and I don’t want to be late.”

The huge grin that he plastered on his face made me worry about what was to come. “That’s the kind of dedication we love! And it’s one of the reasons I asked you to stop by.” He walked out from behind his desk and I impatiently waited as he paused for a moment; no doubt trying to figure out how to ask me whatever it was that he wanted.

“Because of all that hard work and dedication from you. . .” He stopped and motioned towards the door. “. . .and the team of course, there’s a lot of buzz starting to circulate about our chances of being in the playoffs this year and we’re getting more and more requests for interviews.” I nodded but wasn’t particularly thrilled with what I was hearing. I never did interviews outside of pre and post-game ones and I wasn’t going to start doing them either. My face must have given away my thoughts because Jimmy sighed and stopped the charade.

“Here’s the thing, we’ve been contacted by a news organization that wants to do a story on the Buck’s; kind of a behind the scenes thing, and we’ve pretty much said that we’d be open to do it.” I sneered at the thought of some journalist following everyone around, trying to dig up dirt on all of us.

“Which publication is it? The last thing we need is some tabloid running around here, making shit up.” I complained and he held up his hands.

“Give me more credit than that. I hope you don’t seriously think that I would let someone from one of those publications in here. It’s Bridgeport Times.” He admitted and I slightly perked up from hearing the name. “You don’t seem as opposed to that. . .”

I wasn’t since Pam worked for them but I didn’t want to seem too much in favor of it. I shrugged and looked out the window, trying to seem disinterested. “It’s better than some.”

He nodded and took a deep breath before continuing. “There’s something else. They’ve also asked for the opportunity to follow you around for a day, to see how you prep for a game, even perhaps follow you around outside the stadium.” He cringed again, knowing that I wouldn’t take his last admission well.

“There’s no way in hell that I’m doing that! Everyone knows I don’t do that kind of thing and I’m not about to start! They can come to the stadium, hang with the team, and then leave!” I walked towards the door, totally convinced that the conversation was over.

“What if you could pick the writer? Someone you trust. . .like Pamela Haines.” The mention of Pam’s name made me swing around and stride towards him.

Chapter Seven: It Still Hurts - Part Two

So now we've come to part two of this chapter and I have a couple things to say before it.

First, while part one was about Trev and what he's battled to get to this point in his life, this chapter is about what Pam's dealt with and I feel like I need to put a WARNING with it. There are certain instances that some might find disturbing and might act as a trigger for you. So please proceed at your own discretion. 

Second, like many chapters, this one was influenced by a particular song which I of course have included. 

Thanks so much for reading, and continuing on this journey with both Trev and Pamela! Hope you enjoy it!

****Pam****

A gusty winter wind almost knocked me off of my feet as I walked out of Riverview stadium, making me wonder how it was possible that I stood on my balcony without a coat just three nights before.  That was the challenge of packing for away games; trying to figure out the weather and making sure that you didn’t pack clothes that didn’t stifle you but at the same time kept you warm. I thanked my lucky stars that I had enough sense when I packed to remember that Riverview tended to be colder in late October, but the frigid air still caught me by surprise and I stopped dead in my tracks.

The smart thing to do would be to turn around and head back inside, but that wasn’t what Trev and I agreed to when we talked on the phone; a conversation that I originally tried to convince myself would never happen. He asked when we texted back and forth during his visit home if he could call me, but as the next day passed and most of the next, I told myself that he forgot or hadn’t even meant it when he asked. 

I tried to distract myself with preparing for my trip to Riverview and the upcoming game but no matter how many different ways I tried to pack my suitcase or review team stats and info for both teams, I still couldn’t keep my thoughts from drifting away from the tasks at hand and to the up in the air phone call.

By the time I arrived at Riverview and walked out of the airport to find a taxi I was beating myself up about getting my hopes up. He didn’t owe me a phone call, after all. We were friends, my text was meant to encourage him, which he said it did, and in an effort to say something nice in return he offered to call me at some point. It sounded reasonable and logical, and it made perfect sense in my mind. But there was still a spot deep inside my heart where my disappointment clung to that didn’t want to listen. I tried to ignore it and shove it even further down as I arrived at my hotel room and started to unpack my things, but a part of me still knew that I was fooling myself.

That was of course the moment that my phone rang and my disappointment instantly turned into a hopeful excitement that made my hands shake a little as I reached for my phone. Which I told myself was stupid since we’d talked countless times in the years we’d known each other. He instantly apologized for not calling sooner. He mentioned staying later in Appaloosa than he originally planned, since he didn’t get to see his twin brother much, and he wanted to spend as much time with him as possible. By the time he made it back into Bridgeport, it was almost midnight and he didn’t want to bother me so late. It wasn’t a long conversation, and most of it was small talk; the exception being my inquiry about how the overall trip to Appaloosa was, but it put my mind at ease about him not calling and it ended with us agreeing to meet after the game. 

   

 

But neither of us had known was how cold it would be, and as if proving my point, the cutting wind once again tried to penetrate the layers of my coat and finally persuaded me to seek a smarter option. I shivered as I whirled around and decidedly marched back towards the stadium doors, only to be halted by seeing Trev quickly striding towards me.

Chapter Six: Relationship Waters

****Trev****

"Come on guys! We're only behind by fourteen!" I clapped my hands and tried to encourage the offense as they ran off the field, but my efforts didn’t do much good. Every single guy that walked past me looked like a beaten down dog; none more so than Ryan.

"Shit!" No matter what I do, what we try, we can't get a guy open in the end zone; not that it matters since I can't seem to keep from throwing interceptions!" I knew exactly how he felt and would’ve reacted the same way if I’d thrown even one interception, but I also knew that if he focused on his mistakes, his confidence in himself would falter even more and lead to other missteps.

"Don't beat yourself up." I gave his back a couple of hard pats. "It's pre-season, they've got one of the quickest defenses, and we're only down by two touchdowns. We'll get another chance when we get the ball back."  Most would consider it a miracle that we weren’t trailing by more. Our opponent was the Pleasantville Panthers who were considered the team to beat that season and early predictions had them as a shoo-in for the Super Bowl. Any team would have a hard time beating them, even one that had a solid starting quarterback.

Not that Ryan wasn’t good. He’d started all three of our preseason games and played great during the first two, but the Panthers were on a whole other level and would’ve rattled most veteran quarterbacks. His inexperience and lack of confidence in himself didn’t help him and even though I wanted a chance to play, I found myself trying to help him. It was an unusual situation that gave me conflicting feelings; one moment rooting for him as a mentor and coach, and then the next wishing that I was the one on the field. But until Coach White made that decision, I set my mind to helping Ryan and the team.

I walked over to the bench with him to talk about some adjustments that he could make, but stopped at the sound of Coach’s voice. "Trev!" My gut sank knowing that more than likely Coach was coming over to tell him that he wasn’t going back in. "You still feel warmed up?" I nodded.

He thought for a moment and even though the sound of the crowd, pads hitting on the field, and guys on the sidelines talking should have been deafening, they all seemed to fade away as I anxiously waited for Coach to make a decision. The slow nod of his head signaled that he had. "Get your helmet; you're going in.” He finally spoke the words that I longed to hear and my sigh of relief was met with a disappointed one from Ryan. The reversal of roles brought a new set of conflicting feelings; excitement over being the chosen quarterback but also sympathy for Ryan for becoming the one that stood on the sideline.

He gave me a faint smile when I patted his back one last time and I darted over to the bench where my helmet sat. As my hands grasped the facemask, the crowd let out a big roar and the defense celebrated the fact that they kept the Panthers’ offense from scoring any points. Right before I turned to go on the field, Ryan gave me two big pats on the back and we exchanged a smile. It partially surprised me that as I ran up to the guys on the field, the crowd began to cheer and I let myself feel the excitement of it for a moment; the hard, fast beating of my heart, the surge of adrenaline that pumped through my body and gave my muscles a burst of energy. . .I had missed it more than I had let anyone know.

As I approached the guys, I took several deep breaths and tried to center the surge of energy the crowd gave me. After two plays, we had only gained two yards and as I looked up at the clock and saw the last four minutes start to tick down, I knew we needed to do something unexpected and called a timeout.

"This is fucking insane!" Tiny complained as we stood on the sidelines with Coach White and Ned. "We can't do shit against them."

I looked around at the frustrated and disappointed faces and got pissed. "You're right, not with that kind of attitude!"

"Spare us the sunshine speech, Davila." Brewster rolled his eyes.

Chapter Five: Enjoy Seeing Her Smile

****Pam****

"Trev! Why don't you get out there and run the next set?" Coach White's voice rang out over the field and all of the reporters turned their attention to the sideline where Trev stood, including me. I watched with the other reporters as Trev snapped the strap on his helmet and ran out to the field as Ryan ran off, and as they crossed paths, Trev and him slapped each other on the arm. They had been switching on and off for three days, each time showing the same sportsmanship. All of the media had noticed and it was a popular topic of conversation among the many watching from the press area.

The other popular conversation topic was who would be named the starting quarterback. Everyone had their opinions and they usually swayed towards Ryan. It was a topic that I had gotten tired of talking about but my colleagues started up again as Trev took the field.

"There's no doubt that he looks better than he did, but anything would have been an improvement." I heard Victor comment and I inwardly cringed at his implications about Trev's previous condition.

"Is it enough though? I mean Ryan’s looking pretty good and has gotten some experience from having to fill in for Trev during last season. Maybe they should give Ryan a chance." Barry offered and I sighed, causing them and several others to look at me and I cursed under my breath for directing attention to myself.

"Your dad coached both of them, what do you think, Pamela?" Victor asked and I wished I could hide. I didn't want to give my opinion for the very reason that he had just stated; not only because of my dad but because I knew both Ryan and Trev too.

I shrugged. "Who am I to say. It's been six years since Trev played at ASU. . ." I told the truth, technically; they didn't need to know about the extra help Dad had given unless Trev or Dad let it be known. "And I wasn't there when Ryan played."

"Oh come on Pamela. . .You have to have an opinion on it. . .which one do you think they'll pick?"

 

I looked back at Trev playing and sighed as I did. "I'd be shocked if they don't give Ryan a chance to start during the preseason games." Most of the other reporters smiled and nodded their heads and turned their attention back to the practice, thinking I was done. "But. . ." They slowly turned back towards me. "I wouldn't count Trev out; in fact, I think Trev is going to surprise a lot of people this year." I walked away so I could escape answering anymore questions and continued to watch the practice, thankful to be left alone with my own thoughts and observations.

At the end of practice, some of the players remained on the field to answer questions including Trev and Ryan and the inevitable competition questions started.

"Trev, you and Ryan seem to not have much animosity toward each other, even though you're both vying for the same position.  Will that continue once one of you is named the starting quarterback?"

Trev chuckled as he looked over at Ryan, who returned the chuckle with a knowing grin. "Tom, I'm getting tired of answering the same question that's worded differently. Maybe one of these times you guys will believe me. Do I care about being the starting quarterback? Yes. Do I want the job? Yes. Will I be disappointed if I'm not? Yes. Will I stomp around the field and throw a temper tantrum like some other players might? No. I'm a team player, I've always been one and if me not starting is better for the team, then I'll accept it. The fact that it could be Ryan makes it easier. He's a nice guy, a team player, and he's a good quarterback. So yes, the lack of animosity will continue even if he's named as starting quarterback."

Ryan motioned to Trev that he wanted to add to what Trev had said, and he nodded. "I'm in complete agreement with Trev. We've both answered this question an insane number of times and I'm not answering it anymore. We've told you how we both feel so let's move on to something else."

"Is it true that you're both going to ASU this weekend to help train the quarterbacks?" Another voice shouted through the crowd.

Ryan nodded. "Yes, although I wouldn't say we're going to help train them; more like interact."

"Coach Haines asked if both of us could find a weekend to stop by and talk with some of the players." Trev further explained.

"Knowing him I wouldn't be surprised if running plays fits somewhere into the itinerary." Ryan joked and I found myself chuckling with them which again caused several reporters to look at me.

Several tamer questions were asked before the players headed to the locker room and I was then being pressured from other reporters. "You must have some kind of inside information, Pamela. . .they're both going to work with your Dad this weekend." Victor accused.

"They can do that without me knowing more than any of you." I offered but they weren't going to let me off the hook that easy.

"Right. . ." Barry smirked and I rolled my eyes at him. "You did say something earlier about not counting Trev out. . ."

I turned and glared at him. "Yes, I did, because of what he's shown on the field the last several days. He's more relaxed, has better accuracy, and looks better than he has in years. You'd have to be a complete idiot to not see it and I know for a fact that Coach White and the rest of the coaching staff are not idiots. They'll give Trev his chance, he may have to wait for a bit, but he'll get it."

"He'll probably choke." Tim scoffed and I whirled around to face him. I scowled at him for his stupidity and wanted to tell him how much of an idiot he was for believing that, but that would tip them off since I had never stuck up for Trev before, and that would lead to even more questions being asked.

"I guess we'll see." I offered instead and walked away with thoughts of what I wished I could have said running through my head. 

By late Friday afternoon I arrived at the ASU house and I was even more irate about the whole situation. As I entered the front door, Dad and Mom greeted me and immediately noticed how disturbed I was.

Chapter Two: Reaching Out

Even before going to rehab I’d sometimes sweat at night, but not enough to make the sheets stick to me like a second skin. That didn’t start until the night I decided to get help, along with waking up to my heart beating so fast that I worried that it might actually explode. Having a heart attack will do that to you, make you second guess your heart’s ability to function or fear that the racing heartbeats are a sign that you’re having another one.

Those were moments when I would’ve given and done almost anything to make it stop and was when the “Drinking Devil” would whisper in my ear. He was a sneaky, conniving little shit, who waited for the right moment to remind me that a drink would make me forget it all. But there was a half-truth to what he tried to sell me. For a moment I would forget, but just as quickly the memories and dreams I tried to escape from would return.  

So I tried to take Stan’s advice instead; to find something to keep me distracted from the sweaty sheets, a racing heart and thoughts of drinking. Before that, I would’ve thought my days of playing piano were behind me. A given up childhood hobby that very few ever knew I did. But in my desperation to find something to drown out my fears and pleas to drink, I’d given in one night and started to play again.

The first night it felt forced. My hands didn’t flow across the keys and I could barely remember any of the songs I used to play.  I worried that maybe playing the piano wasn’t like riding a bike, something you could give up for years and then pick back up again with a brief refresher course. But it got better, and each time I sat down to play my fingers felt looser and my confidence in my ability slowly returned. It was something else to add to the list of things I never thought I’d do again. A list that grew longer every day in my quest to remain sober.

Truthfully, I enjoyed it and looked for any excuse to play. And as I laid in bed with the sheets clinging to me I figured that I might as well do something entertaining since I was up. But the thought of my sweat drenched ass sliding across the bench made me second guess the idea and I looked at the clock, wondering what time it was and if I had time to shower and play.

No matter how long my blurry eyes stared at the green numbers, they refused to change. Five, zero, seven. “Shit!” I cursed the clock and the time. It would’ve been better if I’d woken up in the middle of the night. I could’ve showered and had plenty of time to head downstairs to play. But with it being less than an hour before the alarm was set to go off, there wouldn’t be time for both.  

I flung the sweaty sheets off of my legs, swung them over the side of the bed and planted my feet on the soft, furry rug. I might’ve actually enjoyed the softness of it poking in between my toes, or how the light bouncing off the nearby buildings cast a dim, soft glow in the bedroom; one of my favorite things about living in the city. But they couldn’t distract me from the disappointment of not being able to play the piano or what woke me up.

It was the same dream every time. I stood alone in a large, bright, white room, calling out for anyone to show themselves. Just when I’d give up hope, Dad would appear from some part of the blinding light that surrounded me, dressed in white and every inch of him glowing. He gave me the same disappointed look he always did right before my voice echoed from every direction, bombarding me with the promise I’d made at his funeral close to ten years before. “We’ll be true to ourselves.”

My words that day haunted me, just as much as Dad did and both had been constant since the night I went into rehab. It’s actually what made me go there in the first place. I drank so much in the days leading up to that night, making my dreams and reality blur together enough that I swore I physically heard my voice, even after waking up. Over and over the words repeated and all I could do was sit on the cold bathroom floor, covering my ears and pleading first with God and then my brother George for it to stop.

In my debilitated state, I had the crazy idea that maybe if I got sober, not half-assed sober but “honest to God” sober, the voices and Dad hauntings would stop. But they hadn’t, and the fact that they still felt as real as they did the first night was one reason I was convinced that what happened wasn’t some hallucination.

And as the weeks trudged on and I heard myself say the same words, their message started to sink in. Maybe what Dad was trying to help me understand was that to be happy, stay sober, be the person I wanted to be and someone Dad would be proud of, I needed to be true to who I really was. The person I tried to hide from everyone.

It would be one of the hardest things I ever tried to do. I’d spent years trying to hide the hurting, unsure, lonely guy from the world by being the loud, funny, smartass guy that lived larger than life. It was what everyone expected from me and I worried that if I showed them the real me, they might not believe it.

Even scarier was the realization that I wasn’t sure if I knew how to be myself. But faced with a future of faking it and continuing on in my sad, lonely existence or being real and actually connecting with people, I’d chosen the later. Hoping that at some point it would lead to something better.

The past press conference and that morning were my first chances to show the team, organization and the media the real me. That I wasn’t just blowing smoke up their asses about working hard and earning my place. It was why that morning’s practice was crucial and almost as important as my first practice with the team, six years before.

I needed to be focused and lose, not stressed, with my mind preoccupied on reoccurring dreams, and as I stepped into the shower I hoped that the hot water would help my muscles relax and wash away the memories of my dream. It mostly worked. By the time I sat down to eat something I felt more focused and confident about facing the day ahead.

First up was a meeting with Coach and I made a beeline to his office when I got to the Buck’s facility. I hadn’t been told much about it, but assumed that it was just a formality. A “welcome back to the team” and “glad to have you back” meeting and I wasn’t too worried about it as I caught sight of Coach’s door.

“Trev?” I didn’t even need to turn around to know that the voice belonged to Ryan, but what I didn’t know was why he was there.

“Drews! How’ve you been?” I asked him as I turned around and gave him a rib crushing hug.

“Dude! I need air!” He sputtered and chuckled as I let him go. “I’ve been good but it’s been way too quiet around here without you.” He smiled and patted me on the shoulder.

Under different circumstances, we probably wouldn’t have liked each other. I’d been the starting quarterback and he’d been the backup, something that could cause friction on any team. But Ryan had been drafted a year before from my alma matter, ASU, and he’d quickly become one of my closest friends and been one of my biggest supporters during my recovery.

What are you doing here so early?” I asked him.

“Oh, Coach asked me to meet him in his office around seven. How about you?”

I looked at him and then the door, trying to figure out what was going on.  “The same thing…” I told him right as the sound of rushed, heavy footsteps came bounding down the hallway.