Old Fashioned - Becker Brothers

Sydney stood abruptly, too. “Yep, I’m going to go get my tables set up and ready. I’ve got a few injuries to follow up with today and I’ll give you a report of who we need to keep an eye on by the end of practice.”

“Sounds good,” I said with my eyes on my clipboard as we made our way out of my office. “Oh, and can you do some soft tissue work on Martinez’s right shoulder?” I added. “He’s been rubbing it after almost every throw, and the last thing I need is a second-string quarterback who can’t perform if he’s subbed in.”

“I’m on it,” she assured me, already heading down the hall toward her office.

And just like that, it was back to work.

Like nothing ever happened.And so the week went.

Everything was back to normal, in the sense that they were far from normal, but at least we were pretending. My days passed with teaching my P.E. classes and weightlifting, evenings passed at practice with me and Sydney dutifully dancing around each other, all the while being “normal,” and at night, I fell back into my routine, meal prepping and running and working through entries in Dad’s journal.

Part of me wondered if it really was only me who felt like we were pretending. Sydney seemed fine, as far as I could tell. She was focused on the field and in her office, not skipping so much as one beat after our conversation on Monday.

I wondered if anyone could tell that I was on the opposite end of that spectrum.

It drove me mad that I couldn’t drop it, but I tried my best, reminding myself of our conversation.

It was a mistake.

We were tired and tipsy.

It’s not a big deal.

It never happened.

On Thursday night, I was successfully distracted, my nose buried in my playbook as I mapped out my strategy to take on the Conway Chargers. It would be another away game for us, and though the team was on a high from the win the week before, I knew it would be important to keep them focused and run the plays that we were nailing over and over in practice.

I wanted to play this game safe and bring home another win without any fanfare. That was my goal.

My eyes were starting to blur with all the x’s and o’s when my phone buzzed on the coffee table where my feet were propped. I scrubbed my hands down my face, moving my playbook to the side and smiling when I saw my baby brother’s face on the screen.

“Well, if it isn’t the city slicker,” I answered, kicking back on the couch again.

“Hey, old man,” Mikey teased back. “I was worried I might not get an answer, what with it being eight o’clock and all. I know that’s past your bedtime.”

I smiled, though my chest ached a bit, too. Mikey was the first of us to move away from Stratford — likely, the only one who ever would — and the Becker clan felt a little unsteady without him here.

“How are you?” I asked.

“All is good over here, just getting settled in still. The art gallery is pretty cool, and Kylie has been volunteering. She got a job helping out at the hospital, too. When we’re not working, we’re exploring the city. Kylie’s dad put together a list of all her mom’s favorite places from when she lived here, so we’ve been working through that.”

I smiled. “That sounds fun. And you sound good.”

“I am good,” he replied, and I could hear the smile even though I couldn’t see it. Then, I heard a faint hi, Jordan! in the background, and my smile grew. “Kylie says hi, by the way.”

“Tell her I said hi back, and to keep you in line up there.”

“Like you even have to tell me, that’s my number one job,” I heard her reply, like she’d stolen the phone from Mikey altogether.

I chuckled.

“What about you?” Mikey asked. “How’s the season going? You ready for tomorrow night’s game?”

I blew out a breath, tapping the playbook beside me with a longing look. “Working on getting ready, anyway. I mean, the team seems pumped, coming off a win last week, but with that giant L from week one still fresh in everyone’s mind, I don’t think anyone is unaware of the fact that this is an important game.”

“One loss doesn’t make a season, Big Bro.”

“You sound like Mom. And I know,” I agreed. “But, it does serve as a pretty heavy weight on our shoulders.”

“How’s it working out with the new trainer?”

My throat constricted, heart stopping before it took a nose-dive into my gut and resurfaced again, beating faster. “It’s fine, everything is fine, why would you ask?”

There was a pause. “Uh… well, because you seemed kind of worried about it when you were here? I mean, when you found out about her joining the team and all. I just was curious if it had been an issue.”