Living With Regret (22 page)

“When I woke up in the hospital, I didn’t just allow myself to think we were married. I also blocked out most of the details from my time at college.”

My chest rises as I gather my courage to continue. “After you left my house and returned home, details about my life started coming back. I disappointed myself. It’s no wonder I made up a life I could be proud of.” She’s watching me closely, but remains silent.

“The summer before I left ...I never had any intentions of breaking up with you. Then a week before I was scheduled to leave, my dad decided to try a new tactic—one that worked. He told me how selfish I was being by keeping you tied to me, that you deserved to go off to college and experience life without being strapped to a guy you’d hardly see.”

I roughly run my hands through my hair. “I wasn’t stupid. I knew he had a mission to separate us, but he got me thinking and with the kinds of demands I knew were set for me, I started questioning if keeping you tied to me was a selfish thing to do. I wanted to do the right thing for both of us and I caved under the pressure.”

Jordan sniffles as her eyes water. “That night when I got home, all I could hear were your words.

“The man I’m going to spend the rest of my life with won’t need a break from me. He’ll know from the second I enter his life that I’m worth keeping.”

I jump to my feet. “I knew that. God, I knew you were worth keeping and I knew I just fucked up the best thing that had or ever will happen to me.” I pause, allowing her to mentally catch up, but I have to look away when I see her start to cry.

“I packed my things and left for school, but when I got there, I couldn’t focus for shit. As a freshman, I wasn’t going to see any playing time, but I was still expected to practice and show everyone what I had to bring to the team. Instead, I looked like a huge joke.” I breathe through the pain and force myself to continue. “My dad, who was in Ohio more than he was in Florida, caught wind of my behavior. Between him and my coach, I was constantly being yelled at. I needed to know you were okay, that you didn’t hate me. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get past the sinking sensation that we should be together and because of that, I couldn’t concentrate for shit.

“My coach paired me up with a junior linebacker as my mentor. At first he was cool and let me whine about my problems, but then he started dragging me out to parties. His idea of helping me get over you was to surround myself with women.” I can see the hurt in her eyes, which kills me. I knew this was going to be hard for her to hear, and I haven’t even gotten to the worst of it.

“At first, I didn’t want to be around anyone, but then I met a guy named Drake that had dropped out of school a few years prior. For some reason, the two of us hit it off.” I take a deep, calming breath before turning my face away from Jordan.

“During my free time, I started going to Drake’s house, where sometimes he’d have parties. Mostly we’d just hang out. He understood the pressure I was under and at the time he seemed like the only person that actually cared about what I was going through. That’s when he first offered me something I could use to relax.” I pause and look back to see her eyes narrow but she stays silent.

“The first time I tried any kind of drug, it was just a few drags off a joint. Then it was a pill here and there. Next thing I knew, I was doing lines of coke every other day just to make it through the day. Hiding it was easy, drug tests for players that aren’t suiting up aren’t as common, and I somehow managed to go to enough classes to keep my grades up. But any chance I had, I was at Drake’s house.” There are many turning points in my life and this is definitely a major one. If only I could somehow go back to this point in my life and pull my head out of my ass, my life might be worlds better.

“Give or take a month after I started using hardcore drugs, I had spells where I would blackout for days, or the opposite would happen and I wouldn’t sleep for days on end. I . . .” I nervously swallow. “I would wake up in random places with women I didn’t remember meeting after doing God only knows what. Still, I somehow managed to keep that part of my life hidden from those who weren’t doing it with me. Until ...until I woke up in a hospital bed with my father yelling at me for being such a fuck up.

“I don’t remember much from that night, but I guess Drake and I were going to a party about an hour from campus. I was driving and already messed up on something, and I crashed the car into a tree. Drake was killed instantly and I somehow managed to only hit my head.” Since my memory returned to normal, Drake and what little I do remember from the night of the accident has remained on repeat.

“Karma’s a real bitch because Dr. Wallace thinks that initial blow to my head is what has caused me to get concussions easier than other players.” I pause, giving her another moment to process all the shit I just laid out for her.

“Other than Drake’s friends, no one really knew we hung out and somehow my dad paid the right person—or people—to make it look like Drake was the one driving, which wasn’t hard to sell because we were in his car.” I start shaking my head with disgust. “I’m not sure if the hospital ran any blood work but nothing appeared in my file. I wouldn’t be surprised if my dad paid to have that disappear as well.

“As far as the school was concerned, I was just a student that happened to get in an accident, but in reality, I killed the only person that really cared about me.” I have no fucking clue what she’s thinking right now, but if I had to guess, she’s feeling sorry for me. I’m not looking for anyone’s pity, especially when that’s the last thing I deserve.

“I returned to school and everyone I knew was feeling bad for me, that I had somehow managed to get into a car that Drake Jones, a well-known druggie, was driving. I was told I was lucky he didn’t kill me. The worst comment came from a teammate of mine that told me the world was a better place without a guy like him.” I wanted to beat the shit out of Mark, and I probably would have if my dad hadn’t been in the next room talking to our coach, ensuring I didn’t lose my spot on the team.

“I was dying on the inside because it was me ...
I
killed him.
I
did that, but instead everyone was acting like I was some stupid hero. At that point, all I wanted was a hit of something or a fucking pill. I didn’t even care what. I would have taken anything from anyone.” I shake my head, still fighting back the pain.

“Even without Drake, I was desperate enough that I found the right people to hook me up, and a few months later, my dad found a bag of coke inside one of my jackets. He went completely insane, screaming at me that I was wasting my future. That he raised me to be better than some fucked up druggie. That was the first and only time he ever hit me. I was shocked. I was pissed, but looking back on it, I deserved it. I deserved a lot more than a punch in the face but in that moment it really hit home what a huge disappointment I was.” I glance out the window, looking for the courage to continue.

“My mom convinced my dad I had a real problem. That I was addicted and screaming and hitting me wasn’t the cure I needed. That summer, I left and went to a private rehab.”

I rub my hands down my face. I’m back to hating myself for the type of person I turned out to be. Jordan is looking at me, but I can’t tell what she’s thinking. I don’t know if I should be scared or relieved that she hasn’t interrupted my confession. Either way, I’ve started and I have to finish. There’s no going back ...only forward. My last and only hope is that she hears me out until the end and isn’t so disgusted by the person I used to be that she can’t see past it to the man I’ve become.

“That was the last time I ever did any drugs, but when life gets stressful, I tend to grab some alcohol and drink. So far, for whatever reason, I can drink myself stupid, but I’ve yet to become addicted to the point of alcoholism. Even with that being said, I know I should steer clear of it. I’m an addict in the truest sense of the word and it’s not worth the gamble. Usually, I don’t have more than a beer here and there, but a few months ago—shortly after you left—I drank myself beyond anything I’ve ever done before. That’s one of the main reasons it took me so long to get my act together and come for you. I didn’t want to be fighting any urges while begging you to want me ...a killer and an addict.”

Pain laces her voice when she finally speaks. “Chase, what happened to your friend was very unfortunate but you can’t wear that on your conscience for the rest of your life. You both did drugs, you both got into that car, and you both made choices that put each other at risk. I can’t speak for certain, but if I had to guess, I’m sure Drake wouldn’t want you to live the rest of your life with this kind of guilt.”

I shake my head because I know I shouldn’t be allowed off the hook that easy. “If I wasn’t driving the car that night then—”

“Then it probably would have happened another night. The two of you using drugs like that all the time ...it was only a matter of time before something happened.” Her voice is soft and kind—nicer than I deserve.

“But people think he died because he was a druggie loser when I was just as bad, but . . .”

Jordan moves closer to me and places her hand on my back. The strength I draw from her amazes me. “I’m sorry your friend died, and I’m sorry other people spoke ill of him once he had passed, but speaking up wouldn’t have changed anything, at least not for Drake.” Jordan places her other hand over mine and gives me a weak smile.

“The charge of aggravated vehicular homicide in the state of Ohio is two to eight years. I could have confessed to what happened and turned myself in. Instead, I went on with my life like it never happened and made it to the NFL.”

Jordan chews on her lip before speaking again. “Chase, would Drake have wanted you to turn yourself in? To spend two to eight years in jail for what happened to him?”

I step away from her and holler louder than necessary, “What Drake wants doesn’t matter! He’s dead!”

Her eyes search mine, waiting for me to calm down. When I do, she tries again. “I understand that Drake doesn’t have a say, but if he did, what would it be? And before you answer that, ask yourself: Would you want Drake in jail if the roles had been reversed?”

No. Of course I wouldn’t want Drake in jail. He was my friend, but I won’t say that out loud because it excuses my behavior. Instead, I stare down at the floor and remain silent.

“After I started at NYU, I was struggling, too. I met my friend Lacey during freshman orientation and somehow she could tell I needed a friend. I ended up latching on to her. My first semester, I didn’t do a lot but after winter break, I came back and started over.”

She exhales loudly. “Lacey and I ...we did things I’m not proud of, things I would rather not talk about, but we were young. We were a team and I know without a doubt that if something happened to us like it did you, I wouldn’t want her to spend even one night in jail because she loves me. Sometimes ...people make crappy decisions.

“If your car had hit another vehicle, if someone completely innocent from the situation you and Drake put yourself in was hurt, then this would be an altogether different story, but that’s not what happened.” I hate the fact that she’s giving me an out, but knowing the unbelievable person Jordan is, I shouldn’t be shocked.

“Chase, I can’t tell you what you should do because I don’t have to live with the consequences, but turning yourself in isn’t going to bring your friend back.” After a long pause and sigh, Jordan steps closer and grabs my hand again, only this time she gives it a tight squeeze. “Have you thought about turning your experience in to something positive? I don’t know, maybe an affordable rehab for people that don’t have the money to pay for it or a program that offers players or, hell, even college freshman the additional support they need? Ugh, I don’t know. I’m thinking out loud here but I think the world would be better served if you gave something back rather than sit in a jail cell for years.”

When I returned to school after my stint in rehab, my family never uttered a single word about what happened my freshman year. My dad wanted to live in a world where his child wasn’t a fuck up and talking about it only served as a reminder. Because of that, I’ve never given any thought to what Jordan has suggested. The guilt I feel at times eats me alive but she’s right. Sitting in jail isn’t going to bring Drake back, but doing something, hell, anything that might keep a situation like that from happening again is something I can do. Something I should do.

“Thank you for listening to me, for not thinking I’m a horrible person, and for the suggestion. It’s something I definitely want to think more on.” Jordan’s face goes soft and I wonder, not for the first time since I woke up in a daze, if I am capable of keeping her.

“Would you like to go for coffee tomorrow?” I ask.

She gives me an amused smile. “I can’t. When I moved in here, I made a strict rule about not dating any of my neighbors. I guess you blew that to hell by moving in next door. Even though it makes the walk of shame a little easier, I’ve found being stuck in an elevator with a one night stand makes for awkward times.” She laughs off her comment but I’m secretly dying on the inside.

Only a fool would think a woman as gorgeous as Jordan would go ten years without sex, and knowing I definitely indulged with the opposite sex, it makes me a hypocrite to be pissed at her for doing the same thing, but I can’t help it. My blood boils at the idea of another man touching her.

Out of the two of us, if we do move forward with a relationship, I’m the one that’s more than likely going to meet men she’s slept with since I’m now on her turf. The idea is about as pleasant as smashing my head with a hammer.

“Well, you’ve already slept with me so I’m excused from your rule,” I tell her.

God, this woman does something to me that I’ve never experienced without her. She makes me want to be a better person, to start living a life that I can actually be proud of.

“I guess you’re right. Maybe I should try to avoid the elevator when I see you.” Her voice was soft and joking, which has me leaning in and tucking her hair behind her ear. When she doesn’t pull away, I tilt her head back and brush my lips softly across hers. Thankfully, she seems receptive and within seconds, my tongue seeks out hers, but all too soon she pulls back, leaving me desperate for more.