Page 94 of A Quarterback for Christmas

Stepping onto the cabin porch, I knock once on the door, then look at the rickety dock in front of me. A dingy boat that looks like it hasn’t been used in years bobbles in the water. The birds sing softly, and the lake is so still it feels like I’ve walked onto a movie set. How Drew found such a secluded and peaceful spot just outside of campus, I’ll never know, but it feels like him. He’s never been one to bask in the attention, even though he commands it just by walking into the room.

There’s no answer to my knock, so I check the cabin number and knock again. Two chairs rock in the wind a couple of cabinsover, making the hairs on the back of my neck rise. It’s all a little too quiet to be comfortable for me.

“Drew?” I call out, my voice echoing against the wood. Still no response, so I try my luck with the door. Pushing the handle down, it unlocks with ease, and I feel the warmth of the fire as I open it. It’s a small space, with only a living room and what looks to be a bathroom by the side. Seeing Drew’s jacket draped over the two-seater sofa gives me the confidence to come into the room, and I smile sadly. In another life, I could imagine Drew and me happily coming here to escape campus. I’d fall asleep on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, while he watched a game and played with my hair.

Even after seeing him with Brianna and knowing he’s leaving, a piece of me wants that so badly, but I need to face that reality was never on our side because reality keeps bringing us back to the fact that Drew and I can never be.

We’ve tried. We’re incompatible, and we don’t make sense. The smart, put-together jock doesn’t need the mean-spirited princess in his life. I only serve to bring him down. He needs someone to lift him up. Someone like Brianna.

There’s a flicker of movement from the window at the back of the cabin, and I immediately recognize the backward St. Michael’s baseball cap. It’s the same one he wore when I lived with him all those months ago. Drew’s just outside but doesn’t know I’m here, and as per usual, I follow him out.

He’s sitting on a small dock with a fishing rod in his hand and a tackle box by his side. I take a few tentative steps out the door, trying to be careful with announcing my presence too early, but his body flinches when the board creaks.

“Bella,” he says my name without checking if it’s me. I’m guessing no one else knows he’s here. “You came.” He doesn’t sound surprised or even overly eager. It’s just a monotonous statement, as though he’s lost all enthusiasm for us.

“Of course I came.” I bite back the urge to tell him I’m like a moth to a flame. I can’t seem to stay away.

“Yeah, well, the way we’d left things, and what you saw earlier, I wasn’t sure you would.”

For the first time in my life, I take a few steps closer and don’t pick a fight. What’s the point of arguing now? Drew’s leaving. He announced it to the world before talking to me about it. He ran into Brianna’s arms instead of mine. He’s going to move on and have this great life outside of Indiana, and I will be here, picking up the pieces of my broken heart.

“How’d you find this place? It’s so peaceful.”

Sitting on the other side of his tackle box, I let my feet dangle over the edge and tip my toes slightly to watch the ripples my shoes make in the water.

“Found it in freshman year when there was all the hype about me coming to St. Michael’s because of your dad. Everyone was calling us ‘The Dynamic Duo’ and talking about how we’d become the greatest pair college football has ever seen.” He laughs bitterly and lifts the fishing line, testing to see if anything is on the end. “Thank goodness Jacob Miller was already here to keep my ego in check.”

We fall into a comfortable silence. Drew fishes while I watch the ripples in the water.

“These docks remind me of the ones back home my dad took me to before he passed. Might sound ridiculous, but I always feel closer to him when I’m out here.”

“Doesn’t sound ridiculous at all.”

“I’ve been renting this same cabin sporadically with my leftover sponsorship money over the last few years. Most of it goes to the stuff my scholarship doesn’t cover, but I like to allow this one little luxury in life.”

I tilt my head in his direction. “I thought you had a full ride?”

He shrugs, still not meeting my gaze. “Books, food, and clothes aren’t covered, and those are expenses I’d rather not pass onto my mom.”

My heart melts, remembering everything he told me during winter break. It’s crazy to think how far we’ve come in only a few months.

“How does she feel about your move?” I ask because I can’t wait any longer to hear confirmation from him.

“If you think I told her I’m being forced out of college because a sex tape was released of me, then you’d be wrong. I simply said that Coach decided to go in a different direction next year and that he wouldn’t be playing me since I couldn’t take them to the championship. She’s disappointed and said she’d have a word with Coach Summers when he’s back in town, but I don’t think she’ll bother. She doesn’t know how lucky I am that Southern Collegiate even considered me.”

Southern Collegiate?

California. He’s moving all the way to California and even farther away from where I might end up.

“Dotheyknow about what happened?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t think so. St. Michael’s is doing their best to put a lid on it, but we live in a world full of TikToks and OnlyFans. Coach explained to Southern Collegiate that there were some extenuating factors but didn’t go into detail. They’re concerned that I might not be a team player, and that’s why St. Michael’s is trying to offload me, but I’ve had a few of the other coaches and Jacob vouch for me. The whole thing is embarrassing, but it’s better than completely losing my scholarship and a potential sponsorship for a year.”

He leans back, and I desperately want to know what he’s thinking, but I don’t think it’s my place anymore. Maybe it never was. The distance between us feels more like oceans thana couple of inches. I hate what we’ve become, but I only have myself to blame.

My fingers itch to touch him as he cracks his knuckles.

“You don’t have to go, you know?” I risk it. I put my hand on his knee and rub the skin there with my thumb. I can feel the soft ridges of scars from various football injuries marring his imperfect skin, and I like how it feels. I always like the way Drew feels.

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