“So far, I’ve convinced him not to tear it out,” she said.
“Stubborn as he is, I’m sure that hasn’t been easy.”
“No. But we can talk later. He’s sitting right here, asking for the phone.”
“You’re at the hospital?”
“Yeah. I had some things to do earlier, but I came back around three.”
“Okay. Let me hear what he has to say.”
Aaron didn’t bother with hello. “Seriously, man? Two interceptions? What happened?”
The relief Hudson felt at the pique in Aaron’s voice—irritation he wouldn’t feel if he was too sick—put the loss, and his own poor performance, into perspective. Maybe the kid really was doing better. “Had a bad game, dude.”
“I saw that. I hope you know you owe me twenty bucks.”
Hudson straightened. “I do? Why?”
“I bet a friend the Devils were going to win, damn it!”
“Watch your language.” Although he wasn’t upset by a few curse words—he said and heard worse on a daily basis—he was the kid’s mentor.
He couldn’t inject any real sternness in his voice, though.
“Damn? You think that’s a swear word?” Aaron asked.
Perhaps he was being a little ridiculous, but he had to send the right signals. “It is a swear word. And Aiyana’s sitting there, too.”
“She doesn’t care.”
“Yes, she does. Show some respect. You shouldn’t be betting on games in the first place.”
“Why not?” he demanded.
“Because you’re not old enough to gamble!”
“But I may not live until my seventeenth birthday!”
Those words pulled Hudson back to reality, helped check his emotions. Aaron sounded better today, but what would tomorrow bring? “Don’t say that. You’re going to be fine.”
“Chances are I won’t be fine. You need to be prepared.”
“I’m not listening to that.”
“Just because you don’t want to face it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. Sometimes I think you’re more afraid of death than I am.”
Hudson wasn’t afraid of his own death, but he was afraid of Aaron’s. He was more than afraid; he was terrified. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“If you say so. Anyway, about that twenty bucks...”
“Forget it. I’m not paying that.”
“Why not? You’re loaded.”
Hudson had to smile. “Gambling often means losing. You need to learn what that’s like so you’ll think twice about doing it again.”
“I wouldn’t have to know that if you’d been yourself out there today. I still don’t understand how you let the game get away from you. What was going through your mind when you threw that last pass, man? What did you think you were going to be able to do while you were falling backward?”
He’d been trying to take control of something—trying too hard, in retrospect—because he couldn’t control what was happening to Aaron, couldn’t even be with him when the boy needed to go to the hospital. “We all have bad days.”
“Yeah, well, give me a heads-up when you’re out of sync next time so I can bet on the opposite team, will ya?”
Hudson promised himself he’d never self-destruct in another game, especially one Aaron was watching. The boy needed something to smile about. Instead of giving him that, he’d panicked and let fear undermine his concentration. “You’ll never get a call like that from me, because it’s not going to happen again.”
“Good. So when will you be home?”
“Team’s flying out tonight at eleven-fifteen.” They had a chartered flight via one of the major airlines, with the Boeing 757 reconfigured to contain half as many seats as usual. It even had eighteen beds to fit the large bodies typical of football players, plus massage therapists, big-screen TVs for gaming and a smorgasbord of food catered by a local restaurant.
But since they’d lost, the mood on this evening’s flight would be subdued. Hudson wasn’t looking forward to spending five hours cooped up in a plane with his teammates, especially since he was to blame for today’s loss.
“Hey, are you going to get showered? The bus is waiting.” Bruiser was back, all six feet eight inches and 370 pounds of him. No one else would dare try to roust Hudson. The fact that Hudson had done his interviews before he’d even taken off his uniform told them he was in no mood to be bothered.
“Be there in ten,” he muttered.
Bruiser looked as though he was tempted to stay until Hudson proved his words by heading for the showers, but he didn’t. After giving him a skeptical once-over, he left.
“Will I see you tomorrow?” Aaron asked on the phone.
Hudson returned to the conversation. “Yeah. I’ll come by the hospital.”
“No need. They’re going to release me.”
“When?”
“Tonight. Doctor said so. I’m gonna be okay, Hudson. For now, anyway. So quit fretting like a little girl. It was just a bad reaction to the meds.”
Chuckling at the “little girl” comment and ignoring the “for now,” Hudson finally stood up and pulled off his shirt. “Then I’ll come see you at New Horizons.”
“Will you be up for the drive?”
The town of Silver Springs, population five thousand, was between ninety minutes and two hours northwest of LA, but once he broke free from the big-city traffic, the drive wasn’t too bad. Hudson made it often. Ojai, where the hospital was located, wasn’t much farther—if, for some reason, Aaron wasn’t released as planned. “’Course I will.”
“Maybe you should stay in the city and get some rest. You were hit pretty hard at the start of the game. I saw how slow you got up. And you don’t have a lot of time to recover. You’ve got the 49ers next weekend.”
Fortunately, that game was at home. The travel during the season was the biggest nuisance of Hudson’s job. “I’ll be fine,” he said and believed that would be the case, as long as Aaron was, too.
After saying goodbye, he hung up and hurried over to the showers.
When he eventually boarded the bus, Hudson was mildly surprised that so many of his teammates made an effort to rally behind him. Once he’d returned from his interviews, they’d given him space, quietly showered, dressed and left the locker room, allowing him time to cope with his frustration and disappointment. But now they were offering their support.
“Anyone can have a bad game... No loss is due strictly to one guy... Hey, it’s a team effort... We’ll get our groove back... That was just four quarters. We still got plenty of season ahead of us... Don’t worry about today, man. Next time, huh?”
As Hudson nodded at each encouragement, he promised himself he’d never let them down again.
The next seven weeks were every bit as difficult as Ellie had feared. Initially, Don had been penitent enough to smile or try to speak to her as a friend might when they passed in the halls or had to interact at work, but he quickly grew resentful that she wasn’t doing more to help his family adapt to