Page 61 of Draft Pick
“Because I’m a catch. I can gossip with the girls and shoot the shit with the guys. I’m every man’s dream girl. Isn’t that right, Suburban Daddy?” She winks, nudging my side.
Rendering me speechless, Jack busts into a fit of laughter, all thoughts of welcoming a stranger inside long gone. “Suburban Daddy? Oh, this shit just got good. I’m in need of some decent entertainment. Come on inside, dream girl. Can I interest you in a beer?” I don’t miss his scoff at the soda hanging from my fingertips.
So much for encouraging sobriety.
“A beer sounds fabulous, Jack. Thank you.” I should have prepped her ahead of time.
Jack waves us inside while I follow behind Juniper. However, I’m quickly halted by his hand at my chest and a gruff whisper in my ear, “One hour. This ain’t some long visit, Briggs. I’m in noshape for company. Especially when it looks like her. You hear me?”
“Loud and clear, Coach.”
We’ve been here two hours now, and I’m not sure I have it in me to try and leave. It’s been months since I’ve seen Jack this…chatty. Maximum effort is typically required in order to get a simple sentence out of him these days.
I mean, the guy lost his wife, so it makes sense. But I’ve always had a sneaking suspicion that there’s more to it than just that. He and Taylor were never like your typical couple in love.
They rarely did anything together, and anyone close to Jack knows their story. Before marriage, Jack and Taylor got pregnant with a baby boy, who they tragically lost shortly after birth. A horror I wouldn’t wish on anyone.
And maybe that makes me fucked in the head for thinking it, but I can’t help but truly wonder what exactly happened in Taylor’s last days. Something in my gut just doesn’t feel right. I’m well aware it’s not my business to know, and I’ve accepted that. I’ll keep showing up for him until he’s good—better—on the other side of his grief, and on the off chance he decides to confide in me, I’ll be here to listen.
Maybe that’s where my surprise from tonight comes in. Every fucking Sunday, I show up at Jack’s house to talk, sit, help around the house—it’s different every time. But the one thing that never changes is his urgency for me to leave.
He appreciates his alone time a lot more than I’m often comfortable with, and just from my own observations, he depends on the bottle more now than ever.
Today, there’s a shift.
He and Juniper are two beers deep, and I’ve been sipping on the same bottle of water since I got here.
“A family of hoarders, eh?” Jack questions in bewilderment. We’re staked out on his back porch, sitting around a patio table while Jack smokes a cigar.
Juniper sips her beer. “Crazy, right? My life feels like some women’s fiction documentary.”
“You should write a book,” he jokes, laughing to himself.
“And you should drink some water,” I interrupt, swapping Jack’s beer for a water bottle.
“Fucking buzzkill,” he groans. I don’t miss Juniper’s curious eyes on me, watching how I interact with my head coach. The truth is, I hate to see him like this. Years before, he was the go-to guy for a good time and the hard truth. The team could always count on him for both.
Now, he’s a shell of who we once knew.
Sucks even more knowing this is my last year playing ball.
“You still talk to them?” he asks Juniper, and she quirks a brow. “Your parents.”
She nods slowly, casting her eyes downward before looking up again. Not sure how I missed it, but the same butterfly object I’ve seen her hold before spins nonchalantly in her hands. She works to keep it hidden, but that’s pointless with me. I wonder what it is and why she carries it with her.
“All the time, actually. I don’t hold it against them.”
“And why the hell not?”
“Because they’re grieving. Well, my mom still is, at least. Can’t fault them for that. I’m adult enough to separate the two. At this point, it is what it is.”
I can sense the pause in Jack’s thinking, and I wonder if Juniper struck a nerve. “Just know they wish they were better. It’s not always that simple.” Jack glances my way in sympathy, and I place my hand on his back, silently showing him I’m not going anywhere.
He’s referencing himself, and I’d consider that a positive of tonight.
“Think things will ever change?” I ask Juniper.
She shrugs. “Not sure. I hope so. I spent years trying to get them to clean up their life and start over. Go to therapy. Find new hobbies. All the things. But I learned quickly that I can’t force someone to do something they don’t want to. So, now I love them from a distance. It’s better for me this way. Healthier in more ways than one for my mental state.”
