Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 72764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
When I walked into the locker room, it was quiet. The usual level of excitement expected on the day of a playoff game was nowhere to be found.
“Hey,” Wes said.
“Hey.”
“Obviously, Sawyer’s out for tonight.”
I lowered my brows. “He’s out for the rest of the playoffs, isn’t he? His wife just died.”
Wes shrugged. “That’s not my call. Depends how far we make it, I guess.”
“Have you talked to him? How is he?”
“He’s…” Wes shook his head. “She died in their bed, man. He woke up in the middle of the night and she was just gone. The doctors aren’t sure what happened.”
“Holy shit. So he didn’t even…?”
“Yeah, it wasn’t like when you know it’s coming. I mean, they knew, but they thought she still had a little time left. So he’s not just devastated, but shocked, too. He’s got family at the house with him, but he’s a mess.”
“We should go by this afternoon and see him.”
Wes scrunched his face, not fully agreeing with my idea. “I don’t know.”
“Why?”
“For one, I don’t want to draw any attention to him. If reporters followed us—”
I scrubbed a hand down my face. “It’s fucking insane that those vultures would want to snap pictures at a time like this.”
“I know. But you know how they are.”
“Yeah, I just…I don’t know. I want him to know we’re here for him.”
Wes nodded. “I do, too. I talked to Coach about it earlier and he said we’ll make the time if some of us want to visit today.”
“What do you think?”
Wes ran a hand through his hair, looking pained. “I don’t fucking know, man. Ben would know exactly what to do, but I just keep going back and forth.”
I put a hand on his shoulder. “Ben would feel the same way you do. You know how Ben approached things—he ran through the pros and cons and then made a call. And he was the first one to admit that sometimes there’s no perfect answer.”
He looked from side to side, making sure there was no one listening. “Sheridan is over at Sawyer’s, and she told Lars he’s a wreck. I don’t know if we’re supposed to show up and support him, or give him some privacy.”
“What if we don’t all go?” I suggested. “It could just be you, or you and a couple of other guys.”
Wes nodded. “That might be better.”
“He’ll have family there to run interference if he’s not up to seeing us. But we at least need to show up and let him know we care.”
“Will you come with me?” he asked. “And I’ll ask Lars, too.”
“Of course.”
This was Sawyer’s first season on the team, and he had been standoffish at first, but once the team found out about Annie’s health, they both had been pulled into the team fold immediately. I didn’t know what we would say to him, but showing up and not knowing what to say was better than not showing up at all.
“It was nice of you to come,” a woman with red-rimmed eyes said as she opened the door to Sawyer and Annie’s house.
Their home was an older, immaculately maintained two-story made of stone, with bright flowers spilling out of large planters on either side of the wooden front door.
“We’re very sorry for your loss,” Wes said as we stepped inside.
“Thank you. I’m Sawyer’s mom, Lisa.”
We all introduced ourselves and shook hands with Lisa. Wes stepped back out to the front porch and brought in a large box he’d set down.
“This is from the team. It’s some meals you guys can freeze if you need to and a bunch of gift cards if you want to get takeout. Should be plenty to get you through the next couple of weeks.”
Lisa’s eyes filled with tears. “How thoughtful of you guys. Thank you.”
“Want me to carry it into the kitchen?” Wes asked.
“Yes, that would be a big help.”
Sheridan walked into the living room, looking casual in sweatpants and a T-shirt, her dark hair up in a ponytail. Her eyes were swollen and her face was red, and as soon as she saw Lars, she burst into tears and ran toward him.
“I’m here now, love,” Lars said, embracing her and resting his cheek on top of her head.
Dude had grown by leaps and bounds since meeting Sheridan. He had recently been diagnosed with autism, and while the news had hit him hard, he’d since become confident in who he was. He’d recently told me his enhanced ability to compartmentalize because of his autism was an asset when he was reviewing film before games. When Lars had a mind to, he could hone in on one thing with more focus than anyone I knew.
“Hey, Nash,” Sheridan said, wiping her face and coming over to hug me.
“Hey, Sheridan. I’m really sorry for your loss.”
“It fucking sucks. It’s true what they say about only the good dying young. Annie was—” Her expression crumbled and she broke down in tears again.