Page 126 of Against the Clock

I just stare, my heart ripping apart, the air suddenly hard to breathe.

“They will use you until they break you, Daniel. The AFL is a meat grinder, and they will take it all from you, and dispose of you once you’re past your shelf life. They’ll shoot you so full of meds on game day that you won’t be able to feel the damage until it’s too fucking late. You know this. All of you fucking know it.”

She shakes her head, taking a shaky breath, using the palm of her hand to swipe at her wet cheeks.

“We do know it,” I say. “And it’s worth it. It’s worth it. It’s fleeting, and it’s perfect, and it’s what we’ve dreamed of our whole lives. We’ve spent long days and late nights and early mornings bleeding football because we love it. We made it. We’re the lucky ones. Because when my feet hit the turf and the ball’s in my hand, I feel alive. I feel in control. I feel like a god, and I fucking love it.” The words are coming out harsh now, a staccato gunfire of emotions I didn’t know I felt.

“It doesn’t love you back,” she says, shaking her head. “It doesn’t love you back, and your fans have me scared to go home tonight.”

She stands slowly and I grind my molars as she gives me a long, sad look.

“Don’t play tomorrow, Daniel. Don’t hurt yourself worse.”

“I have to,” I say, and my tone is firm. Resolute.

Inside, I’m anything but. I know she’s right. I don’t want to hear it.

“You don’t.” She shakes her head and one more tear falls, splashing against my kitchen floor. “You don’t have to.”

She turns on her heel and I blink. What the hell just happened?

“Are you breaking up with me?” I ask her and she half turns, glancing at me over her shoulder.

“No. I love you. I love you so much that I can’t stand by you while you tear your body apart for a game. I love you so much that it makes me sick to think of you hurt. I’m going to Cameron’s. Please, Daniel. Please take care of yourself. No one else can. No one will make you.”

Just like that, she’s gone.

The front door closes, and her headlights bounce down the driveway, leaving me with too much fucking food and even more regrets.

CHAPTER 49

KELSEY

Cameron’s singing off-key, coffee percolating in her ancient Mr. Coffee maker, and all I can do is stare at the ceiling.

“You okay, boo?” The pull-out couch squeaks as she sits next to me.

“No,” I say, sitting up so I don’t roll into her. “Thanks for letting me crash here, though.”

“Literally anytime.” She eyes me speculatively. “Actually, if you want, you could just move in here. Rent’s going up in a few months, and I’m either going to have to move or get a roommate.”

My mouth opens and I flop back onto the pillow. A mistake, because the bed is not comfortable and now my back’s hurting again.

“Oh. Oh.” Cameron’s eyes are wide, surprise flickering across her face, chased by a worried frown. “You were going to move in with him?”

“He mentioned it once or twice.” I roll over onto my stomach, but it makes it worse and I finally roll off the bed, standing instead. “I never really answered him. I was thinking about it, though, and now…”

“You said you didn’t break up with him.” Cameron stands, too, and I help her tug the sheets off the bed and we both grunt as we fold it back into a couch.

“I didn’t. But it wasn’t good. It’s not good,” I say, and my voice breaks on the last word. “I just can’t sit back and watch him destroy his body. You know?”

“Then don’t.” She shrugs a shoulder. “I know we planned on going to the game today, and he was going to let us use his box, but what if we go get our nails done instead? Or we can drive to the shore, hang out on the beach. Fuck football!”

“I feel terrible,” I tell her, cramming the heels of my hands into my eyes.

“You’re going to give yourself wrinkles. I mean, we could go get Botox today, but that’s not in my budget at the moment. But I can recommend ten med spas that will blow your mind!” she says, using her tried and true TV voice.

I give a wet laugh. “No, I feel like an asshole.”

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