Disclaimer: I don't own anything here and am just doing this for fun and to pass the long months until Season 4.
Author's Note: This is my first try at this sort of thing. Parts of the story have been rolling around in my brain for a while, but I'm not exactly sure where it's going to go. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the ride.
Tim realized now that he should have seen the signs. Their first year apart had been rocky, but they'd survived. They had a great summer, even though Lyla seemed a little distant at times. Now, when he looked back, he could see the red flags he'd missed the first time around. Especially the admiration in her voice when she talked about Rafe. How he spoke French and real Spanish, the kind they speak in Spain. Not the Mexican Spanish that they learn in high school in Texas.
Everything in Vanderbilt was different, better, more cultured than what they had in Texas. And while he knew that was the whole reason that he'd told her to go, it didn't make it hurt any less when she talked about all her fancy new friends. Especially Rafe.
Rafe? What the hell kind of name was that anyway? Tim sighed and shook his head, reminding himself to focus on the road. The last thing he needed right now was to get a speeding ticket or have an accident. It was bad enough to be driving home from San Antonio State in disgrace.
It seemed like such a good plan, in theory. Lyla's birthday was on a Wednesday. He'd go to morning practice on the Wednesday, then drive to the airport for his flight to Nashville. Hitchhike or catch a cab to the college and surprise Lyla. Have a great night together, go back on Thursday, just in time for afternoon practice. He'd only miss two practices. He knew he'd probably have to do something to make up for it, maybe run the stairs until his legs fell off, but it would all be worth it to see Lyla's face when she opened the door and saw him standing there. Plus, when he took out her birthday present, which was inside a black velvet-lined jewelry box small enough to hide in his fist like a magician, well, he definitely knew it would all be worth it.
He realized now that maybe he should have told the coach, made up some excuse - a funeral or something. But Tim operated on the princple that it was easier to get forgiveness than permission, so he'd jumped into this birthday surprise plan with both feet. It went great, all the way up until the moment when he arrived at the campus. It was so much nicer than San Antonio State, all trees, perfect lawns, and brick walkways. He felt lost even though he had a map in one hand, her present in the other, and knew exactly where he was going and why.
He was walking briskly up the path toward her dorm when he passed a couple kissing near a tree. The girl's dress, a white cotton number that was perfect for the muggy Indian Summer day, reminded him of Lyla and Mexico. He smiled and allowed himself another glance at the couple. He didn't want to be that freaky guy who stares at PDAs, but he figured a quick look wouldn't hurt.
Only it hurt more than he could have imagined, since he quickly saw that the white dress reminded him of Lyla because it was her dress, and she was wearing it while kissing some guy. He wanted to tackle the guy and hurt him, seriously hurt him, but he found his muscles wouldn't listen to him. He was frozen on the spot. The couple stopped kissing and started walking toward him.
He watched the emotions that moved over Lyla's face - first puzzlement, then surprise, then guilt. The guilt stuck around for several seconds, but then was replaced by something that made him sad. It was the look you get before you have to do something you don't want to do, something like put a beloved pet to sleep. A complicated mixture of pity, sorrow, and determination.
She said something to the guy in Spanish. Or maybe it was French. Tim had no idea, but whatever it was, the guy took a few steps backwards and then walked away. Tim watched him leave, annoyed that he only moved off about a hundred feet, as though he felt he had to monitor the situation.
"What are you doing here?" Lyla asked.
"Who's that?" Tim's voice was low and raspy. He decided that no matter what happened, he was going to get through the conversation without crying or getting angry. He was giving her nothing. Not if he could help it.
"Rafe." She looked at her feet, refusing to meet his eyes.
"Happy Birthday, Lyla." Tim turned and walked away. He ignored her calls for him to come back. He kept his back straight and his head up all the way to the airport. Only then did he allow himself to slouch, but he still wasn't giving anymore than that. He stopped in the bathroom first and washed his face, wishing he could rinse the whole experience off and watch it swirl down the silver drain.
In a moment of anger and irrationality, he considered tosssing her gift in the trash. He took a deep breath and let it out through puffed-out cheeks, then decided to bury the small box in the bottom of his backpack instead.
He tried to get an earlier flight, but everything was booked. He spent most of the evening in the airport bar and the rest of the night passed out in an uncomfortable airport chair. He didn't hear the thunder as the worst storms in 100 years moved across the Plains and hit Nashville with a vengence. He knew nothing about it as he stumbled toward the gate just before his flight was due to take off.
The flight was cancelled. In fact, all the flights for the day were cancelled. He tried to get a flight out on Friday, but the earliest they could fit him in was Sunday night. He wasn't just missing practices. Now he was going to miss a game. He knew that forgiveness from the coach probably wasn't an option anymore. He called the coach's office phone in the middle of the night and left a garbled message.
He realized now, from the altogether different perspective of his truck on the way back to Dillon, that the message had been a mistake. It made it sound like he was on a several day bender. Which he sort of was, having nothing else to do at the airport. But he wasn't missing the game because of the alcohol. He saw now how the coach could apply the logic of cause and effect and come to the wrong conclusion.
When he'd finally returned to the dorm, his roommate, a sophomore cornerback, confirmed that he was in more trouble than trouble itself. Tim looked around the room and weighed his options. The way he saw it, he could wait until the next morning to get kicked off the team, lose his scholarship, and go home in disgrace. Or he could hit the road now.
Which is how he found himself pulling into Riggins' Rigs at 3 am. He knew he could have gone home. He thought Mindy or Billy might be up with the baby anyway, but he wasn't quite ready to face their disappointment. Not quite yet. He needed at least a half-a-night's decent sleep first. So he let himself into the garage, curled up on the old black couch that was just slightly more comfortable than the airport chair and fell asleep.
His sleep was deep and dreamless until the morning, when he started to dream that a giant beast had cornered him and was about to hurt him. He panicked and jerked away, only to find himself face-to-face with a growling dog. A big, black growling dog.