Page 75 of Playmaker

I hold the door open for her, and when we step outside, we’re hit with a cool breeze. I’m already stripping myself of my suit jacket when she wraps her arms around herself, and she sends me a grateful smile as I drape it over her shoulders. “Thank you,” she says. “What was that about in there? Why does my brother seem so upset?”

I laugh. “He’s not mad. He wants alone time with Maya but he’s worried as hell about what you’ll think if he makes a move. He’s using this time to be certain about his decision before he talks to you about it.”

“What?” She gasps, spinning to look back inside the restaurant until I grab her wrist. “All he had to do was ask! I’ve already told Maya I’m fine with it.”

I arch a brow. “Easier said than done, right?”

“Point taken.”

“Let them have this alone time,” I whisper, interlocking my fingers with hers. “Besides, I want alone time with you too.”

I drag her away from the restaurant windows until we’re far enough that we’re out of sight. We find a bench that’s empty, smack dab in the middle of the incredible fucking view of the canyon. It goes on formiles, the river at the bottom traveling far into the distance until it disappears.

The view leaves me breathless. Maddie sits beside me and pulls my jacket tighter around her, the side of her body pressed against mine. Now that we’re alone, I wrap my arm around her shoulder and hold her close like I wanted to do at the bonfire last night. I could tell she wanted me to do it, too, and I’m confident if anyone comes out we’ll hear the laughter and chatter from inside the restaurant.

She sighs and rests her head on my shoulder. “This view never fails to make me forget about everything bad in life.”

I frown, attempting to swallow past the sudden lump in my throat. “It does the opposite for me. Views like this make meoverthink, and it—” My jaw ticks as the memories rise to the surface. “It makes me remembereverything.”

My mom.

Saying goodbye.

Watching her take her last breath.

“I miss her too,” Maddie whispers, knowing where my thoughts have led. “Sometimes I can still hear her laugh. Do you remember when she’d laugh so hard that it was silent? There wasn’t any sound, it was just—”

“Her nose would crinkle up.” I smile faintly at the memory.

“And her face would get as red as a tomato,” she adds, reaching up to hold the hand that’s around her shoulder. The gentle strokes of her thumb bring a calming presence, allowing me the space and time to get whatever I need to off my chest.

“Sometimes—” I shake my head, trying to find the words. “Sometimes I think she’d look at where I am in life and be disappointed. Yeah, I’m playing football, but at what cost? I fucked my way through high school to try to cope with the pain, and my dad and I aren’t close anymore. I don’t think she’d be proud of who I’ve become, and the thought of that terrifies the hell out of me.” My first time confessing that works its way into the void of the canyon, and I wait for a sign. Anything to see if my mother heard me and agrees or thinks I’m crazy for relying on the fucking wind to give me an answer.

Maddie tips her chin up to study me, and I hate that she’s always been able to see right through me. It’s useless trying to hide my emotions from her, so I don’t bother with the facade. I allow her to see the hurt and despair that’s stifled me for years. “Is football something you really want to do, or are you only playing to appease your dad?” She bounces her knee nervously before she adds, “I don’t want to overstep, but it’s something I’ve always wondered, and—”

“I’m not mad you asked it. I just . . . well, I haven’t been asked that before.” Until tonight, no one has ever looked closely enough to care about my answer. “Football has always been something I’m good at, and at first, I played for fun. Then I got into high school and coaches started to notice I was talented, and then offers started coming in and I lost sight of why I started playing in the first place. My dad was on my ass about training, and he still is, but I don’t play because it’s fun, and I don’t play for my dad. I play because it makes me feel closest to my mom, and I wouldn’t give that up for anything.”

Tears prick the backs of my eyes, but I blink furiously in an effort to clear them. That very same question has been weighing on my chest for months. The pressure has been insufferable, but whether I make it to the NFL or not, I’m not playing for anyone butmeand the connection it brings me to her memory.

Maddie squeezes my hand, blinking away tears of her own. “Your mom would besoproud of the man you are, Cam. Whether you believe it or not, you’d take the shirt off your back for anyone.”

I arch a brow. “Is that a sexual innuendo? Becauseyes, I’ve gotten around.”

“What? No.” She laughs, and it’s a welcome sound given the depressing turn our conversation took. “Before your mom’s passing, you loved hard. You were the kindest person I knew, and I don’t think that boy went anywhere. He’s still inside you. You’re stillyou, you’ve just picked up some cuts and bruises along the way that still need healing. Your mom knows that too.”

“You seem to have a lot of confidence in me,” I reply. “Hopefully, I don’t disappoint.”

“You won’t. If that boy was long gone, why would you be so worried about changing?”

I tilt my head to the side, contemplating her answer. “I guess I hadn’t thought about it that way. Are you sure you don’t want to become a therapist instead of a doctor?” Then, after a few beats I ask, “What kind of doctor do you want to be, anyway?”

Those blue eyes of hers lock on mine, and it feels like an eternity before she answers. It’s almost like she’s hesitant about telling me, but the next words out of her mouth steal the breath from my lungs. “I’m studying to become a cancer doctor.”

Of all the things I thought she’d say, that sure as hell wasn’t it.

“An oncologist, to be exact. Well, that’s if I graduate, of course. I still have a million obstacles to face before I can practice, but—”

“A cancer doctor,” I repeat, my voice thick. “Mads—”

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