Page 52 of Playmaker

“You think you can come back into my life after months of being gone and have everything be fine between us?” I pace back and forth, growing more infuriated with each step I take. “You can’t just waltz in here and start giving me relationship advice. You knownothingabout my track record. You’re part of my life maybe one month out of the year, and that’s being generous. You don’t know me anymore. You haven’t for a long time.”

“Now, Cameron—” he starts, but now that I’ve started, I can’t seem to stop.

“No! Since Mom passed, Mary and Richard have been more like parents to me than you have!”

“Don’tmention your mother,” he warns, getting directly in my face. “I’ve had to work, Cameron. How else do you think the bills are paid? How do you think you can attend one of the most prestigious schools in the country and not have a lick of debt? How does money get deposited into your account every month? I’ve busted my ass to make sure you’re provided for. I’mstillpaying off your mother’s medical bills all while putting you through school to make sure you have the best opportunities available, and you want to harp on me about not being here?”

Tears burn in the back of my eyes, threatening to spill, but I hold them at bay. What am I supposed to say? He’s right. I’m sounding ungrateful when I’ve never had to worry about material things, but if given the choice, I’d rather go to community college with Ethan and have my father present than be alone with only football as the common ground between us.

“You’re so close to making it to the NFL,” he says. “I can feel it. You’re talented, and I just don’t want you to mess this up for somegirl—”

“Ah, so that’s why you’re giving me relationship advice.” I shake my head. “Not because you actually care about my happiness, but because it’s about football.”

My dad is speechless, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tries to think of something to say. Telling him how I honestly feel would be fruitless. It’s not going to change anything. I won’t allow myself to let him see the vulnerable thoughts I have—how I stayed home two days every week in high school to see if he’d change his mind and come home. To tell him that I never needed the best shoes or the name brand clothes, I just neededhim.

At the end of the day, he is who he is, and if he wanted to be here with me, he would be. I have a deep-rooted fear that if I were to express how hurt I am, he wouldn’t make any effort to change, so I’d rather keep my true feelings to myself than get hurt even more.

I avert my eyes, choosing a spot on the wall to stare at instead. “I’m assuming you’re leaving soon?”

He gulps and glances down at his dress shoes, which are as impeccable as his suit. I’ve rarely seen him wearing anything else. No matter where he’s at, he’s always ready for work. “I leave on a red-eye later tonight,” he admits.

I scoff. “Thought so. Well, I’m going for a drive. Don’t really feel like being here.”

“Cameron.” He places a hand on my shoulder to stop me. “I’m just looking out for your best interest, okay? You can’t continue things with Maddie. You know that, right? It’ll screw up everything you’ve worked so hard for, and you can’t allow yourself to become distracted. Not when we’re so close to the finish line.”

We’re.

As if we’re aunit.

Ateam.

The absurdity of it all doesn’t go unnoticed.

When Mom was alive, that’s when we were a team. My fondest memories are playing football in the backyard with him until the sun started to set. He was encouraging about it then, but he never forced it on me or pushed it too hard. The option to play football was always there, but when Mom died it became an obsession, and as the years went on, it wasn’t an option, but an expectation.

I don’t know who this man standing in front of me is anymore.

“Got it,” I reply, my tone clipped.

Pushing past him, I fish my keys out of my pocket and fight past the burning in my eyes. I refuse to let a single tear fall for him when he doesn’t deserve it, but the empty space in my heart he created only seems to grow bigger every time we have these discussions.

All I want, the only thing I need, is to see my mom again. I wish she was here to tell me how to handle him and how to mend things between us. I wish she could guide me when it comes to Maddie and my feelings for her and my fear of fucking this all up. I wish she could reassure me that although I’m amazing at football, there’s more to me than that.

I’ll never be able to hear her voice again, or listen to her laugh, but there is one way I can communicate with her, and every time I’m home, I always make sure to stop by.

I just didn’t expect it to be so soon.

Twenty-two

Cameron

“Son, there’s someone here to see you.”

Blinking at my father, I can’t comprehend what he’s saying. Every motion for the past twenty-four hours has felt robotic. Lifeless. Foreign. I’m so numb to my pain that I can’t tell whether I’m angry or relieved there’s someone here to see me. It can’t be Ethan since he already stopped by this morning, so it must be—

My father moves to the side and Maddie steps into view. Her blue eyes are puffy and red from the crying she’s done on her own, and normally the sight of her emotions would crush me, but not anymore. It doesn’t matter when my eyes probably look the same. I sobbed for a straight twelve hours before I popped a blood vessel in my left eye, and then everything just stopped. My feelings. My tears. And if it wasn’t for the constant thumping in my chest, I’d think my heart had stopped too.

“I’ll give you guys a moment alone,” he says before walking down the hall.

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