Page 30 of A Quarterback for Christmas

“If we were playing the real version, I would have whooped your ass.”

“It’s the same game.”

“Yeah, but this one gives me bad mojo. It’s too focused on St. Michael’s, and you’re the campus king.”

Drew grabs his chest, and I notice he’s wearing a tight, white shirt for the first time tonight. I can see the clear outline of his brown nipples, and now that I’ve noticed, I can’t stop looking. They’re so…so…pert, and pointy, and -. “Sorry, Bella. I must have misheard, but was that a compliment?”

I force my hanging mouth shut and look back at my reluctant host. “It wasn’t a compliment. It was a fact. I bet I'd win if we were playing the real version.”

“Good thing we won’t be playing that anytime soon then.”

I smile. “Oh, Drew. Are you scared I might win?” He grumbles. “How about this? I’ll even let you have your good luck charm car as your piece if we play. Give you all the advantages in the world.”

I hold out my hand, smiling from ear to ear, but that fades when I realize he’s not smiling back. In fact, it’s more of a frown. “The car isn’t my good luck charm.”

“Oh. Then why didn’t you want me to use it?”

“The same reason I didn’t want to playMonopolywith you in the first place. I used to play it with my dad.”

There’s a pause in the conversation, and when Drew looks at me and realizes I’m not going to say anything, he continues, “My dad and I played board games every Friday night. We’d have a college game on in the background and talk about our week. His favorite game wasMonopoly, and he was always the car. I just wouldn’t feel right playing with it with someone else.”

“Sorry,” I mumble out, embarrassed that I even suggested it. “I didn’t mean to force you into it.”

“You didn’t. I could have said no. Maybe a small part of me wanted to move on, and you allowed me to do it.” His eyes flick up and meet mine for barely a second, but I see a vulnerability behind them that I’ve never seen before.

“What happened to him?” He lifts his gaze, looking at me with surprise. “I don’t know. I never asked my dad because I thought it was too personal.”

“He died of cancer when I was eight.” I take in a sharp inhale, and Drew shrugs. “It wasn’t unexpected. I remember sitting down with my parents when I was five and them explaining to me what chemo was.”

My heart plummets, and it’s probably good that my cast is heavy on my leg because it stops me from rounding the table and hugging him. “Drew, I’m so sorry. No child should have to go through that.”

“Not your fault,” he says through a contorted smile. “At least I had him for an extra three years after that. Three more years than we expected.” Cracking his knuckles, he’s lost in his thought, and I watch in awe, seeing a completely different side to Drew. “You know he loved football and went to St. Michael’s? My goal after he passed away was to play varsity in high school because I thought that would honor his memory. I never thought I’d actually be playing at his college for his team. Glad I canfulfill our dreams, even if he’s not around to watch me.” I bite my bottom lip, holding back what feels like tears because yeah, my dad can feel a little absent at times, but at least he’s alive. “But you know, none of these dreams would have come through for me if I hadn’t had help.”

I look up at him, and it’s one of the first times he holds my gaze to watch me.

My heart rate spikes, and I feel a little self-conscience because I wonder if he can see the emotion threatening to spill behind my eyes. “Not having my dad around for those big moments in high school was hard, but having someone rooting for me like Coach Summers on the sidelines made coping with that so much easier. So I just want to say thank you, Isabella Summers.” I can see the sincerity in his words as his gaze locks with mine. It’s too much, but for some strange reason, I can’t look away. I don’t even think I want to.

“What for?”

“For sharing your dad with me all these years.

I open my mouth, willing myself to say something, but I don’t know what because he has no idea that that’s why I’ve hated him all these years. And now I feel pretty darn pathetic about being so petty because at least my dad is around to be annoyed at. Drew has had to navigate his teen years without his and watch his mom struggle to support them. I had no issues, and almost a perfect life, so what am I complaining about? That my father has his own dreams he’s pursuing that sometimes means he can’t focus on mine? Or maybe that I’m too scared to go on my own adventures, and use my dad’s workaholic nature to get around trying for things I really want.

Like staying in London.

“Bella?”

“Mmhmm?” No other words leave my mouth because the weight of this conversation feels too heavy.

“Can I ask you something?”

“I guess.”

“Why didn’t you stay in London after high school?” He raises his hands when he sees me bristle. “I’m not asking out of spite or anything. It’s just your dad always talked about how London was your dream, and he was worried you’d meet some British Prince or something and never come back.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “I didn’t go out there looking for love. I went out there looking for myself.”

“Did you find her?” he asks with a genuine smile.

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