“I just tried to be understanding. He had all this stress on him, so the least I could do was take care of Dylan. When he was home, he was angry and stressed. He used to get pissed off that there were too many toys around, and he was constantly stepping on them.” She wipes away a tear. “Of course I would go to some games, but even then, I felt like I was intruding in his life. He had this whole other life without us in it. I suspected that he wasn’t faithful to me, and when I found out the first time, he promised me it was a mistake. Promised me it wouldn’t happen again. I knew it was stupid to believe him. Maybe that was my clue to get out, but I wanted Dylan to have a family. I wanted him to have a mother and father together. But then it came knocking on my door again at two in the morning looking for him. It was the day before Dylan turned two years old. I had these little gifts wrapped for him when he got up, and Andrew got so pissed when I asked who she was that he threw one of them at the wall, smashing the gift.” She takes a deep breath, and I want to go to her and hold her while she tells this story. I want to give her the strength from inside me.

“Junior year, he got sacked so hard he tore his ACL.” I look down at my own hands that are now folded into fists, the rage coming out of me, and right then, I think about when I was drafted first overall. It was a dream come true. “Well, he was put on painkillers after his surgery, and he somehow got addicted,” she says softly and now wipes another tear off her cheek. “You have to know that I had no idea. Not even one that he was so addicted.” She looks at me, and I want her to stop telling me all this.

“It was not your fault,” I say. My hand goes to her cheek, and my thumb catches the tear that escapes her eyes.

“When I found out he was addicted, I went to his parents,” she says. Her voice makes my stomach start to burn, and my heart speeds up faster and faster, and my neck suddenly becomes hotter. “They actually blamed me.” She laughs bitterly, but it comes out more like a sob. “Said I pushed him in that direction, and that if it wasn’t for me and Dylan, he would be okay. That having a child put extra strain on him.” The sobs rip out of her, and I pull her to me. She cries in my chest, her tears soaking straight through my shirt. “I never once put pressure on him.”

“It was not your fault,” I say, hugging her, and I kiss her head.