this year.”
“What did Dad have to say?” Travis feared the answer but asked anyway. His father’s opinion was never affected by silly emotion.
His mother paused. Not a good sign. “You know your father. He was so tired last night and was asleep before the news came on. I recorded it, though. I’ll make sure he watches.”
His dad hadn’t even bothered to watch. Travis was used to hearing his father’s long list of things he needed to work on before the next game, but complete apathy was something he hadn’t expected. Postgame criticism never hurt this badly. Was this what he had to look forward to? Disappointment masked as indifference?
Travis was having a hard enough time dealing with his own disappointment. His football career was over before it had truly had a chance to begin. One and a half seasons; that was all he got before a Chicago Bears linebacker sacked him and reinjured his shoulder. Playing football was all he knew. Since he was six years old, Travis had worked endless hours to be the best quarterback to come out of Texas. His father had been his coach until he was twelve. Then his parents hired the first private quarterback coach. The expectations were high and the pressure increased exponentially over time. Outside of football, his dad apparently had no expectations of him.
“Listen, Mom. I was about to head out for a run before work. I’ll call you in a couple of days, all right?”
“Sounds good. Don’t worry about your dad, honey. Training camp started and he’s in mourning, I guess. But he’ll come around. You’ll see. We love you, Travis. You know that.”
“I know. Love you, too. Gotta run.” He hung up and pushed his earbuds in, turning up the music good and loud. Travis never doubted his mother’s love. The woman had doted on him his entire life regardless of how he did on the field. His father’s love always felt more conditional. When the doctors informed them Travis’s shoulder injury was career-ending, he had seen the look on his father’s face. All the work, all the time, all the money he’d put into Travis was wasted. All his father’s hopes and dreams died that day.
Mourning. His dad was mourning more than training camp.
Travis tried to clear his mind as he ran. He welcomed the burn in his legs and the ache in his chest as he hit the six-mile mark. The air was still a little thick from the rain last night, though there was no sign of it on the pavement. Travis shook his head at the memory of the girl with the red umbrella running to her car. Summer Raines. That girl was unusual, to say the least.
Women loved Travis. Back in high school and college, they lined up to get nothing more than a minute of his time.And his year and a half in the NFL? He could have dated a different woman every week.
He didn’t do that, though. He had one girlfriend in high school, went out with a couple of girls in college and found himself a pretty lady who wanted to marry him during his first year with the Dolphins. But Brooke went running for the hills as soon as she found out Travis Lockwood wasn’t going to be the next Dan Marino.
Fickle hearts. Stupid, fickle hearts.
Losing his career was tough. Losing faith in the person he thought was his true love was devastating. Travis’s life had been on a nice, straight path, then all of a sudden it took a very sharp right. Then a left, before he spun out. Now he didn’t know which direction he was headed. He was alone and unsure if that was the way it should be. After Brooke took his ring and stomped on his heart, trust would never come easily to him again.
Six months after his last football game, Travis picked up the pieces of his broken heart and his busted shoulder and returned to Sweetwater to start over. He was still loved throughout West Central Texas even if he couldn’t play ball anymore. Everybody knew who he was and still thought he was worth something. Ken Collins thought he was worth something. He called Travis up and asked if he wanted to use that communications degree he’d earned. Sportscasting wasn’t Travis’s dream job, but hell, neither was football. Football had simply been his only option. When he couldn’t play anymore, reporting on it seemed like a decent alternative— at least until Travis could figure out what he really wanted to do with his life.
The problem with reporting seemed to be that he wasn’t very good at it. It was probably for the best that his dad hadn’t watched him fail. It was only a matter of time before he disappointed Ken the way he’d let his dad down. Travis needed to work harder if he didn’t want to end up unemployed again. Everyone at the station had welcomed him with open arms. Well, almost everyone. Summer Raines wasn’t impressed. She didn’t know who he was or what he had accomplished in his life. She didn’t seem to know or care much about football at all. The weather girl was dedicated to her craft—period.
Travis sped up, sweat dripping down his forehead. He wiped it out of his eyes with the back of his hand. He was in the zone now, his body working like a well-oiled machine. No one who saw him running would suspect he was damaged beyond repair. Of course, out here there was no one trying to throw him down on the ground, looking to completely destroy his weakened shoulder. He was in great physical shape, just not for the one thing he thought he was born to do.
He pushed himself harder than usual. Rachel would likely give him some on-air pointers. She came off as more than willing to mentor the newcomer. So unlike the weather girl, who was excellent at her job but didn’t seem to be much of a team player. Both women were experienced reporters. He also couldn’t deny they were attractive. Rachel had a face that was made for television—a friendly smile, high cheekbones and porcelain skin. Summer had long blond hair with a little curl and the prettiest eyes he had ever seen.
As he sprinted back toward his house, he thought about how the last thing he needed was to give someone else a chance to break what was left of his heart. Rachel had been incredibly kind to him on his first day, but her intentions were familiarly questionable. She was too impressed with who Travis had been. Summer didn’t like him. She had made that clear, and maybe that was what made her a safe mentor. He’d never get caught in the rain unprepared, and there was no chance they’d ever fall in love. It was a win-win for him, and it’d been a long time since Travis had won at anything.
* * *
“YOU REMEMBER PLAYING Wylie your senior year? My son was tight end. Maybe you remember him— Sean Harper? Number 80. He was a junior. Made all-conference his senior year.”
Travis had played in thousands of football games. He remembered lots of opponents. He knew all the quarterbacks, several linemen, a handful of linebackers. Tight ends? Not so many. But the portly man with the bright green tie sitting beside him looked so desperate for Travis to recall his son, he lied.
“Sean Harper from Wylie.” He paused as though he was trying to place him. “Oh yeah, tight end. He was a helluva player. Where’d he go after high school?”
Mr. Harper was beaming. “He went to A&M. Didn’t play ball. Graduates this spring with a degree in accounting.”
“You must be very proud.”
“He’s got a bright future ahead of him. His mom and I couldn’t be prouder.” Mr. Harper smiled and went back to his lunch. Bright future. Travis remembered what it felt like to have one of those. Suddenly, his shoulder ached and his stomach hurt. He tried to get in a couple bites before someone else asked him a football-related question, reminding him once again that his future wasn’t looking nearly as good as Sean Harper’s.
Making an appearance for the station at the Abilene Rotary Club luncheon sounded like a dream until Travis realized how little eating would actually be involved. After helping to present a service award to a gangly, pimply-faced
