Page 1 of Quarterback Keeper

CHAPTER ONE

KYLIAN

“Mom.” I crossed the college’s parking lot, my phone pressed against my ear, headed for my SUV. “I can pick up food for dinner tonight. I’m leaving now.”

“No need, Kylian.” Mom’s voice held a note of strain. “I’m on my way to the grocery store. I already know what I want to make for dinner, and you know how it goes. If I have a craving, I better act on it.”

“Are you feeling okay?” I didn’t like that she’d gone out so close to her last hospital treatment. Unlocking my SUV, I held open the back door, tensely waiting for her answer.

“I’m fine, but I’m driving. I’ll see you at home.”

I said goodbye then pocketed my phone. My backpack landed on the floorboard of my used Chevy Trailblazer with a thump. A bone-deep exhaustion had settled in after classes, the squeezing in of some homework, and a grueling practice. The day wasn’t even close to over. On autopilot, I drove through rows of parked cars in the athletic lot before merging into traffic that would take me from Evanston to an up-and-coming area on the south side of Chicago. It took a little over an hour, not too long without traffic.

As I turned onto Mom’s street, I got lucky and pulled into a parking spot half a block from the run-down building. My dad was a silent partner, but still a slumlord, for the building where Mom and I had lived until I moved out so I would be near campus. It was a point of contention between us and one I planned on bringing up again at dinner.

Movement caught my eye.

I turned and swore as I jumped out of the SUV, shoving my keys into the pocket of my athletic pants to free my hands. “Mom.” I jogged to her as she slowly made her way from the CR-V I’d bought her to the front door of the four-story brownstone, a bag of groceries in her arms. I swooped in, relieved her of the heavy burden, and kissed her on the cheek then flashed a carefree smile that I hoped fooled her into thinking I wasn’t in a shit mood.

I held the door, which also gave me time to study her. Her ordinarily shiny chestnut hair was dull and barely reached her shoulders, as it’d fallen out with the first round of chemo treatments that seemed a lifetime ago. New lines etched around her mouth but failed to steal the remnants of the vibrancy that clung to her—though I could tell she was tired. Stage four metastatic breast cancer would do that to a person.

As we climbed the stairs, she took my offered elbow rather than the railing, which had who knew what kind of germs.

“The condo next to mine is for sale. I want to put in an offer so you can move out of this dump. And it would be better if we lived in the same building. I could see you more.”

Mom snorted. “You mean the dump you grew up in? Come on, Kylian. It’s not that bad. We have lots of great memories here. And because of your father, I live here rent free.”

The only good thing about the place was Mom’s lack of rent. Still… “The elevator has been broken since I was in high school.” I pushed my agenda, ignoring the dank, musty smell that’d clungto the stairwell for as long as I could remember. “You live on the fourth floor, and you can’t tell me that’s easy to climb after treatments.”

“I’m glad it’s broken.” Her shoulders squared as she dug in her heels on the matter. “The exercise is good for me, and I see a lot more of you than I ever did when you were in high school. You bring me food and take me to doctor’s visits.”

“I would still do those things.”

“Kyl, between your commitments with football and school, that broken elevator has given us time we wouldn’t have had otherwise.”

Ridiculous, but I couldn’t deny it. Other than my mom, I lived for football. It was all I thought about and trained for, and I worked hard to be better than I was the day before. Last year, I even learned the defensive plays to get an edge on making quick decisions for the offensive line with the opposing team’s defense.

“We have so many memories here,” Mom said, pulling me from my thoughts. “And there are my friends. Mrs. Carlson in 2E and Fred in 4D with his cute little Chihuahua. Besides, I can picture the years ahead.” She glanced at me, a calculating look in her tired deep-blue eyes. “With all the grandkids you’re going to give me running up those stairs.”

I didn’t say a word. There was more to come. There always was, and it killed me that I couldn’t give her what she craved most. I wouldn’t.

“Football isn’t your whole life. It’s a part of it and might, someday, be a job. I want to see you get married and know that you have someone to care for and who will take care of you.”

I clenched my fist, helplessness washing over me at her dreams I couldn’t fulfill. “I don’t need anyone, Mom. I’ve got you.”

The sigh that pushed past her lips almost broke me. It said everything neither of us wanted to talk about. The doctor hadbeen clear at the last appointment I’d gone to with her. She had months left, and that was if she was lucky and the experimental treatment plan worked.

On the final set of stairs, she squeezed my arm. “You’ve always been a good son.”

I opened my mouth, but she shushed me. At her door, she fished for her keys, unlocked it, and let us inside.

“I know you work hard and think you have to make up for what your dad couldn’t be for us, but that’s unnecessary and unrealistic. That’s not your burden. What I want most in my time left here is to see you happy.”

And settled.She’d left out saying it, though she already had.

Mom shut the door behind us and flipped the deadbolt into place. I glanced around, noting the folded blanket on the couch where I knew she spent most of her recovery time after treatments. Everything about the apartment was tired, from the worn carpet that should’ve been ripped up and replaced with hardwood or vinyl years ago to the sagging furniture and lackluster kitchen. I set the grocery bag on the black-and-gray-spotted laminated counter, fighting another wave of anger at my dad and his business partners for refusing to update the building, specifically Mom’s apartment. I’d tried to pay to have it done myself, but she’d refused.

I unpacked and put away the groceries, leaving out the bread, lettuce, and tomato. Mom got the bacon on a tray and slid it into the oven. We were having sandwiches for dinner. I waved off her apology because I didn’t have much of an appetite with everything going on. After she set the timer, I urged her to sit on one of the kitchen chairs.

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