Page 76 of Out of Bounds

“And what happens if and when you want to settle down, have a family? And he’s traveling every week. That puts a strain on the relationship.”

“Dad. You do know there’s professional football players with families, right? Like, it’s a thing. Not everyone leaves—” My dad tenses beside me and I stop, bitterness flooding my body. I kick at the lawn for a long minute. Take a deep breath.

“Not everyone’s like Mom. Some people stay.”

“And some people don’t. It’s a hard, painful lesson to learn.” He peels the label all the way off the bottle and crumbles the paper into a ball, dropping it on the wood deck.

“So you’re never going to give anyone a chance? Ever again? All because of Mom?” My voice tips up and I hate how shrill I sound, how defensive.

Always the stoic, my dad doesn’t react. Instead, he takes a long pull from his beer. Crickets keep on chirping and for the first time in days, a slight breeze rustles the leaves in the trees.

“I don’t know.” His voice is low, barely above a whisper.

I shake my head, filled with sadness, disbelief, and an odd infuriation. How could this man be so stubborn, still, after all these years? Holding on to past grievances like they’re a lifeline, tethering him to her forever.

“Risk is a part of life, Dad. The game you love—that’s risk. Every time a player steps onto the field, they’re taking a risk. You run plays. Risks, each and every one of them. I’ve personally seen you call an End Around. More than once. Risky. But sometimes taking a risk is worth it. Cam’s worth it.”

He lifts his ball cap and runs his fingers through his hair, places the hat back on his head. Reaching over, he pats my knee, keeping his eyes focused on the picket fence separating our yard from Mrs. Humperdink’s.

“Long as you’re happy, that’s all I care about.”

Then he stands and goes inside, the screen door squeaking shut behind him.

CHAPTER 26

SLOANE

I’m restless all night long, thinking about everything my dad said.

How Cam’s lifestyle isn’t normal. How women will try to hook up with him. How traveling and long-distance will be hard.

But those aren’t the points that keep me awake.

Some people stay.

And some people don’t.

That’s the line that plays in my head on loop, over and over again. When the sun finally sneaks through the slats of my blinds, I throw back the sheets and give up on the idea of sleep altogether.

There’s only one person who can talk me through this right now and I’m sure she’s up already. My grandmother rises before the sun to feed the chickens and goats, weed her vegetable garden before it gets too hot. She probably already showered and is on her second cup of coffee by now.

Throwing on a T-shirt and denim shorts, I scrape myhair into a ponytail, brush my teeth, and slip out of the house as quietly as possible. After last night, I’d rather avoid my dad right now.

I drive the few blocks to Mimi and Poppa’s house. My grandparents live at the edge of town, right where the grass starts to grow taller and the yards get bigger. The cute yellow house with the wraparound porch and the white shutters is the same one where my dad grew up. I’ve been coming here my whole life, and I always feel completely at home.

With a gentle knock, I push through the unlocked door. “Mimi? It’s me.”

“In here, sugar.” Her voice carries from the kitchen, straight through to the living room. The living room’s decorated in light oak wood and florals, my dad’s trophy collection lining the shelves. I run my hand over his high school football picture as I walk by, my chest squeezing.

Coming here is like being sucked into a time warp, a shrine to my father’s glory days. Before I came along and screwed up his life.

Not that Mimi or Poppa or my dad ever said that out loud. It’s more a vibe, an undercurrent running between the three of them.

“Hi, Mimi.” I bend down and give my grandmother a hug. She’s poring over a crossword puzzle book, a steaming mug of coffee next to her.

“What’s a seven-letter word for deli meat?” She squints up at me over her readers.

I shrug. “I dunno. Not turkey, that’s only six letters.”

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