Between Sundays (16 page)

A depth shone in Aaron’s eyes. “I don’t envy you, having to tell him the truth.”

“Yeah. I’ll be doing a lot of talking to God this week.”

For a moment, it looked like Aaron might ask about that, about God. But Cory was waiting on the sidewalk, and Megan had to get going. Aaron put both hands on the steering wheel. “Can I call you? After the road games?”

There was no reason for Megan to say yes. But before she could stop herself, she grinned at him. “I’m not sure why, Mr. Hill.” She could feel her eyes sparkling. “But you can call. I can let you know how Cory took the news.”

“Okay.” He started to reach out, as if he might take her hand or touch her shoulder. Then he pulled back and smiled. “I enjoyed today, our talk. Learning about Cory and getting to know you better.”

She smiled before she could stop herself. “Me too.” Then, with her heart racing at triple time, she stepped out on the sidewalk, shut the door, and gave him a final wave.

On the way up the stairs, Cory tapped on her arm. “Hey…”

“What?” She stayed a step ahead of him, because if she moved fast enough, maybe she could outrun the strange emotions whirling in her heart, the feelings she was starting to have for Aaron Hill.

“You looked sorta happy in there, talking to Aaron.” He was teasing her, using the voice kids use when they think two people like each other. “I think he has a crush on you, Megan.”

“He doesn’t.” Her answer was quick. She reached the third floor and made a straight line for the apartment door. “He’s just trying to be nice.”

“Hmmm.” Cory had to run every few steps to keep up. “I don’t think so.”

Once they were inside, Megan directed Cory to get his backpack. “Take your math papers. I’ll be in your room in a minute.”

He did as he was told. When she was alone, she fell against the door and closed her eyes. Her heart was still racing, still betraying her. She should’ve said something to stop the madness. She could’ve told him that, by the way, she wasn’t interested, or she could’ve asked him not to call. Most of all, she could’ve avoided saying “Me too” when he told her he enjoyed their talk that day. But then that would’ve been going against her own beliefs, and that’s what troubled her most.

Because lying wasn’t right, no matter what.

A
aron didn’t call her after the road games, and he wasn’t sure why. Mostly just that he had a lot to figure out about himself, and someone like Megan Gunn deserved a guy with his act together.

It was Monday night, first official game of the season, and the 49ers were hosting the Cardinals. Anticipation and energy were at an all-time high, and the entire team felt it. All week, sports announcers and media members had guessed about the game and about the coming season. Indianapolis would be strong again, and so would the Bears and the Patriots. Most talk shows liked San Francisco in tonight’s game, because the team had buffed up its defense with the draft and traded well for a receiving team that would complement Aaron’s abilities. But the team was still picked to place just third in their bracket. Sports media believed Aaron didn’t have what it took to win the big game, and oddsmakers in Vegas had them a twenty-to-one shot to win the Super Bowl. The worst odds since Aaron had joined the team.

They were on the field, finishing warm-ups, and Aaron surveyed the stands. Cory would’ve loved it here tonight, but Aaron couldn’t bring himself to invite the boy, to lead him or Megan into believing something that he wasn’t sure he could carry through. Aaron wasn’t worthy of a girl like Megan Gunn, so maybe it was best to take a step back. Besides, the boy had to know by now that Aaron wasn’t his father. So a phone call to Megan or an invitation to the game could’ve come across as patronizing or charity. Still, Aaron wished they were there.

No matter his own shortcomings, he hadn’t stopped thinking about either of them since he dropped them off at her apartment.

Aaron tried to clear his head, tried to focus on warm-ups, which were nearly finished. He took the snap from the center, danced back a few steps, and fired it at a passing receiver. This time, instead of the neat tight spiral he was known for, the ball soared past his teammate and landed ten yards on the other side of the guy.

“You with us, Hill?” Derrick was taking snaps a few feet away. “I mean, come on, you never call, never write. We have one dinner and you ditch me.”

Aaron laughed. “I’m here. It’s just my head.”

“Yeah, well.” Derrick stared at him, just as one of the coaches blew a whistle. “Game’s starting in five minutes. Might be a good time to reattach it.”

“Right.” He slapped Derrick’s helmet as they jogged back to the sidelines. “I’ll do that.”

They lost the coin toss, and Aaron was glad. He needed a few minutes to focus on the game. The hype and commotion was all a distant roar compared with the thoughts in his head. Every spare moment since his talk with Derrick, he’d been more and more aware of the life he’d been living. How many people had he used since he’d come into the league? The more he thought about it, the more the trail of his success as a player seemed paved with a stream of nameless, faceless girls, none of whom had meant anything to him.

And for the most part, he probably meant nothing to them. At least that’s always what he’d told himself. The girls he hooked up with weren’t the types to get broken hearts. They were the type that marked their night with him as another conquest, another line on their résumé. The sort of girls Bill Bond approved of—as long as none of them was underage—because they came and left in the shadows. Girls that didn’t hurt his image as a bachelor.

“Keep your play toys in the closet, Hill,” Bill would say, “and everything will work out fine for us.”

But the more Aaron thought about foster kids and the statistics, how so many became street people, he had to wonder. Some of the women he’d used over the years were probably looking for a way to feel needed. Even for only a night. Did his agent ever think about that?

Aaron knew the answer, and the weight of his sin, his responsibility to those women, stayed on his shoulders like a lead blanket. Even here on the sidelines. Beneath the weight of it, he struggled to find the carefree, cocksure athlete he’d been before showing up that first night at the youth center.

Aaron focused on the unfolding game. The 49ers’ defense held the Cardinals to three plays and a punt. Now it was his turn, whether he felt good about himself or not. He jogged over to Coach Cameron and listened for the plan.

“Hill, what’s eating you?” Coach’s eyes were dark with worry.

“Nothing.” Aaron let his gaze fall to the ground. “Just some things I’m working through.”

“Work it through later.” Coach gave him a hard pat on the back. “I mean it, Hill. We need you a hundred percent tonight.”

“Yes, Coach.” Aaron steeled himself against the crud in his heart, the weight on his shoulders. Coach was right. This was their opening game. The team needed him. He ran out to the huddle and shot a look of intensity at his offense. “All right guys…let’s do this!”

He sounded convincing, but the drive stalled at the Arizona thirty-yard line. A field goal put them ahead by three, still no matter what he tried, Aaron couldn’t engage his heart in the game. He’d played football since high school, and not once in all that time could he remember a game where he struggled to give his all. Until here, opening night. A game televised to the entire country.

The team battled Arizona all night, and Aaron threw an uncharacteristic three interceptions. Before the fourth quarter, Coach pulled him aside and threatened to put in Derrick or Jay. The talk was enough to give Aaron the push he needed, and in the final five minutes, he threw two touchdown passes, giving the 49ers a three-point victory. His performance was pathetic by any measure. He threw for just over a hundred yards and his touchdown to interception ratio was his worst in four years. But it was a win, and Aaron was grateful.

Media flooded the locker room after the game, but Aaron had nothing to say. What could he tell them? That he felt like a creep? That his self-centered past suddenly felt shallow and empty and the result left him with little desire to even play the game, let alone win it? All of America would think he’d lost his mind.

He found Coach Cameron and begged off from the post-game interview. “I’m not feeling good.”

“Is that what you call it?” Coach’s expression went from sarcastic to concerned. He pursed his lips and shook his head. “Don’t worry about the press. I’ll handle them. Get home and get some rest. The schedule won’t get any easier.”

Aaron stared at the ground. “I’m sorry.” His eyes met his coach’s. “I’ll figure it out.”

Coach held Aaron’s look for a long moment. Then he nodded and headed off to face the press.

Aaron shuffled toward the showers, dizzy from the strange feelings plaguing him. After a game like tonight, it wasn’t always smart to dodge the press. They expected the key players to show up after the game. His missing the interview would give them reason to speculate that something was wrong, that Aaron Hill was maybe fighting an illness or an injury. Two or three games like the one he’d played tonight and they’d start talking about whether he’d lost his edge, whether he should be replaced.

He undressed and stepped into the shower. The hot water felt good on his shoulders, but it didn’t wash away the heaviness surrounding him. At some point, he needed to talk to his agent, have a sit-down with him, and get to the bottom of the situation with Amy—even if it had been years since her name had come up. Plus Bill had called a couple times in the past week, telling Aaron about a few A-list actresses and one country singer who had expressed interest in him.

“Say the word and I’ll set it up, Hill.” Bill sounded beyond excited at the prospect. “We could use a connection like that.”

Aaron had made himself clear both times. “I’m not interested. I can find my own relationships.”

Bill didn’t act offended. He only chuckled, dismissing Aaron. “You’ll come around. Guys like you need to mix with your own kind.”

Aaron ended both calls before things got too strained. The conversation he needed to have with Bill wasn’t one they could have with his agent chuckling on the other end of a phone line.

Aaron ran the bar of soap over his aching biceps and under his arms. If he didn’t know better, he’d think the fog in his head was depression. Something he’d never even considered.

When he was dressed, he grabbed his bag and kept his head low. Derrick caught up with him just as he was heading out to the parking lot. “Hey, man…talk to me.”

“I’m okay.”

“You’re doing it again.” Derrick put his hands on his hips. “You’re lying to me.”

“No.” Aaron tried to find a smile. “I need some time, that’s all.” He appreciated his teammate more than the guy knew. But he needed to be alone now. Being in Derrick’s presence only made him feel worse about himself. All he had to offer was glitz and looks and athletic ability. The deeper places—the places that shone brightest for Derrick Anderson and even for Jay Ryder—were for Aaron draped in cobwebs.

Derrick studied him. “All right, but I’m warning you, man.”

Aaron waited. He wasn’t quite able to look his friend in the eyes.

“I’m talking to God about you, Hill.” He shook his head. “Mmm-hmmm, let me tell you, when someone starts talking to God about you, look out.”

“Yeah?” He looked at Derrick.

“Oh, yeah. Changes start happening so you don’t recognize yourself in the mirror.” He took a step closer and gave Aaron the sort of hearty hug typical between athletes. “I’m here if you need me, man. Seriously.”

He coughed and tried to find his voice. He wanted to thank his friend, but all he could manage was, “See ya.” Then he hurried outside to his Hummer.

As he neared it, a slim blonde woman wearing a short dress and heels stepped out from behind one of the other player’s cars.

She blocked his path and batted her eyes at him. “Hey, Aaron.”

He vaguely recognized her. Once maybe a year or so ago they’d shared a night together, he was pretty sure. Now the thought of that, the way it was empty and meaningless, made him sick to his stomach. But the familiar temptation was there too. He stopped and shifted his bag a little higher onto his shoulder. For a few seconds he gritted his teeth, forcing himself to get control. He lifted his chin and averted his eyes. “Hey.”

“It’s been too long.” She ran her finger down the length of his arm. “I’m free tonight…let’s find somewhere quiet for dinner.”

Aaron worked the muscles in his jaw. He’d used the blonde for his own selfish pleasure, and she wasn’t even bothered by the fact. Not outwardly, anyway. And worse, his body was responding to her touch, reminding him of the pleasures that could lay ahead tonight if he were willing. He breathed in sharply through his nose and then looked straight in her eyes. “Look, I can’t tonight.” He broke eye contact and stared blankly at a point beyond her. “I’m busy.”

The girl’s face turned red, and she stumbled for something to say. Her expression grew softer, sexier. She took a step closer. “What I have in mind …won’t take all night, Aaron.” She put her hand on his shoulder, her fingers working small delicate circles on his upper back. “You sure you’re busy?”

The familiarity of the moment intensified the struggle. Aaron stared at his shoes and considered her offer, the way a night like those he had experienced so often before might ease his burden for a while. But then what? He pictured Megan, her determination to make life right for an orphaned boy, and he pressed his lips together.

In a rush, he pushed the young woman’s hand off his shoulder and took a step back. “Go find some other football player.” He snarled at her, the feelings of temptation quickly giving way to disgust. “I told you I’m busy.”

Without another look at her, he walked past her to his Hummer.

“Aaron…” He could hear her walking toward him. “I’m sorry if I came on too strong…maybe we can just have coffee somewhere…maybe we—”

He climbed into the driver’s seat and slammed the door before she could finish her sentence. He hated the girl for trying to make him give in, and he hated the fact that he’d slept with her before.

As he drove off, he realized something else. He hated his car. Everyone in the city knew he drove a Hummer, and at stoplights he was often recognized by other drivers. For what? So he could make it clear to the world he was Aaron Hill, that he had enough money to drive an expensive car? So he could feel bigger than life on the field and off?

The cell phone on his console vibrated and he punched a button.

“Hey, Hill…good game.” Bill Bond’s voice filled the car.

“It wasn’t good, and you know it.” Aaron gripped the wheel and picked up speed as he entered the freeway. “I’ve been in the league seven years, Bill. You don’t need to blow smoke at me.”

“So it wasn’t our best showing.” Bill’s voice was upbeat as usual. “Got the whole season ahead, friend…not to worry!” He barely paused. “Speaking of which, I’m your best friend and you don’t make it up to the box to say hello after the game? I mean, come on, Hill. I had three brokers I wanted you to meet.”

“I didn’t feel good.” Aaron switched lanes and settled back into his seat. He needed a meeting with Bill, but he would let his agent do the talking first. “What’s up?”

“Strategy.” He dropped the friendly tone, and his voice took on an urgency. “This is a big year for you, Hill. Very big. Everyone in the business is whispering about it being time. You prove yourself now, or maybe you’re not all America had you cracked up to be.”

“Maybe I’m not.”

Bill paused, and then he let loose another short burst of laughter. “Yeah, well, this isn’t a joke, friend.”

In college, and even in the years after signing his pro contract, Aaron had liked how Bill called him friend. The word seemed an accurate reflection of the relationship he shared with his agent, the way the guy looked out for him. Aaron usually felt comforted by the fact, reminded that Bill wasn’t only interested in making money off him, but in caring for his career, his future. The way a friend would care.

Lately the word grated on Aaron’s nerves. It felt cheap and forced and saccharin. Bill never asked how he was or how he might be feeling, why his game had struggled tonight, for instance. His calls were always about strategy and key meetings and endorsements. Things good for Bill’s bottom line.