Page 50 of Playmaker

“Just because I let you go doesn’t mean I wanted to,” I say softly. It’s the first time either of us has spoken about that night six years ago, but it needed to happen at some point, especially if we’re trying to rekindle our friendship. “I was in a bad place, and I didn’t want to hurt you, Maddie. I still don’t.”

“But you did hurt me,” she replies. “You broke myheart, Cameron.”

“You don’t think I know that? I’ve regretted it every day since.”

The admission hangs in the air between us, fueling the undeniable feelings we both have never let go of. I could spill my guts again and tell her I love her, right here, right now, but what good would that do if I’m not certain I’ll be able to follow through with what that entails? Loving someone means being there for them unconditionally, so how on earth can I promise that when there are times I can’t even be there for myself?

“Mark asked me out on a date tomorrow night,” she admits, keeping her eyes locked on mine. “Tell me not to go, and I won’t.”

“Maddie—”

“Tell me not to go,” she repeats. “Tell me this isn’t purely physical between us. Tell me there’s more here to uncover, and I’ll never speak to Mark again.” I’m panting heavily while she awaits my answer. “If you truly don’t think there’s something more here then we’ll continue exploring until we head back to school, and I’ll go on the date with Mark and pretend to forget this ever happened between us.”

It’s not that simple.

It’sneverbeen that simple.

Achieving and being the best has been ingrained into my head by my father ever since I started high school.No distractions.No girlfriends.No junk food. My life has been planned out since I was a teenager, and I was okay with that because I knew my mom would be proud of me for helping Dad take his mind off her death. Football has been the one thing we’ve shared, and if I fuck up, if I let this dream go, I’m afraid he’ll break, and as much as he’s been a shit father the past few years, I refuse to lose him too.

But staring into Maddie’s teary gaze, it’s the first time I’ve considered whether or not my momwouldbe proud of me. Would she be happy that I’m giving up the girl of my dreams to keep my dad together? Would she be proud of someone who made the girl she used to consider her own daughter bawl her eyes out?

Doubtful.

“All right,” she says, taking my silence as an answer. “I’m telling him yes, then.”

No. I can’t bear the thought of her going on a date with anyone other than me.

It’s always been me.

It’s always beenus.

And I’ll be damned if I let her walk away from me again.

So I kiss her before I can stop myself, and she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she leans into it and doesn’t complain when I hoist her onto my desk to part her thighs and stand between them.

I’ve never been good at explaining my feelings, but I hope I can show her. I hope I can kiss her deeply enough to express how sorry I am that I can’t be the man she needs me to be. I hope she can understand how much I love her bynotsaying I love her. I’m fucked-up as it is, and with the added stress of her brother or family finding out? We’d never be able to make it work. As much as we want each other, we’ve always been bound to crash and burn, so staying silent and keeping that sentiment to ourselves is for the best.

Almost as if she’s thinking the same, she breaks away from the kiss, gasping for air.

“Please,”I beg.

“Please what?” she urges. “Say the words, Cameron. That’s all I need you to do.”

“Christ, Maddie. How could you not realize that I—”

A flicker of movement flashes in my peripheral, and I whip my head around to find my father standing in the room. His tall, bulky presence sucks up all the energy, and his brooding stare causes all the hairs on my body to stand on end. I’ve grown to understand that expression well, and it’s only ever had one meaning.

I’m in deep and utter shit.

Twenty-one

Cameron

“Ethan, that’s not fair!” I stomp my foot on the grass as he waves the popsicle he just stole from me in front of my face. “Give it back!”

I go to reach for it but he sticks his tongue out and runs away from me toward the pool in my backyard. It’s a summer day in the dead heat of July—the kind of day in Arizona when it’s well into the hundreds. The popsicle is steadily melting on the grass while Ethan runs around with it, and I find myself becoming angrier the longer I can’t have it.

“Mom!” I whine, blinking away tears. Ethan continues to taunt me from the other side of the pool. “Ethan stole my popsicle!”

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