Page 191 of Off Limits: The Firsts

“I’ve got to get to practice.”

He turns his back on me and walks toward the entrance.

And I watch him.

Every single step.

But this time through the blurred tears.

I now have my answer.

He walked away.

Decision’s been made.

He left me.

I’m done.

It’s time to go home.

Dekker

I stare at the memo and wish I could add more, but I can’t.

I’ve failed. My dad had faith in me, and I blew it.

I look at it one more time, and then I hit send.

Hunter

Dad: Worst game I’ve seen you play all year. Why isn’t your head in the game, son? Think of everything we gave up for you to be there and prove you deserve it.

Me: Fuck you.

I stare at the text. At those two hostile words. At the cursor flashing. The pressure is mounting. I feel the exhaustion everywhere. Just. Fucking. Everywhere.

The suicide drills and the endless shooting challenges he made me perform until late into the night.

No breaks.

No sympathy.

Only the weight of the world on my shoulders. Only the knowledge that I’m the reason Jonah left that night. I was the catalyst who put him in the car and robbed them of his spectacular career.

I’m the mediocre brother forced to live out the dream Jonah no longer could.

Because living for Jonah is the only other thing they have. Even though I’m still alive and have dreams of my own.

And living for someone else is so exhausting, so daunting, so goddamn frustrating.

The cursor blinks.

The same two words I’ve wanted to respond with after every game I’ve ever played professionally.

Two words.

They say so much.