Page 12 of Personal Foul

She laid a finger over his lips. “Stop. You’re not dragging me anywhere.”

He kissed her fingertips. “Being with me means your private life will be splashed everywhere. Paparazzi is going to dig into your background and gossip about you. I need you to think about it.”

She bit her bottom lip. “Doyouwant to be with me?”

Guilt hit him, but he pushed it aside. He may have started this for an image makeover, but the more time he spent with her the more he enjoyed being with her.

“I like you, Romilly,” he said seriously. “Our conversations have been the most honest I’ve had in … well, a long time.”

“I like you too, Kaiden, so I’m not going to worry about the camera.”

He wanted to kiss her badly, but he wouldn’t do that with the paparazzi lens trained on them. Instead, he slung his arm around her shoulders and continued their stroll through the market.

“What are you doing this evening?” he asked.

“There’s a gallery opening tonight that’s showcasing a local artist I like,” she replied and looked up at him. “Wanna come with me?”

Mentally, he went through any plans he had but he had nothing going on. He’d probably end up watching porn and jerking off. Which was a whole other sort of loneliness.

“I’d love to,” he said. “But you might have to interpret the artwork. I’m not very good at abstract concepts.”

She smiled up at him. “No worries. I’ve got your back.”

Once upon a time he thought everyone had his back—his coach, his agent, his lawyers. When you’re popular and on fire, everyone loves you. It was a hard lesson to learn that if you fall on your face, no one was there to help you up.

“I’ve got your back.”

She didn’t even know him, but he saw the truth in her eyes. Leaving him to feel her simple yet unassuming acceptance deep in his soul.

****

Later that day, when he’d returned to the hotel to wash up before the date, his phone rang and his mother’s name flashed on the screen. He connected the call.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Sweetheart. Have you settled yet?”

“Not really. Still living in the hotel.”

“What did the coach say?”

He walked over to the balcony and stared out over the city. The Arch was barely visible. “On Monday I’m practicing with the quarterback.”

“Training camp is several weeks away, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but they want me to audition, for lack of a better word, in a minicamp.”

Silence followed, and he waited to hear what she’d say. “What do you mean by audition?”

“There will be many undrafted free agents, plus some released players, all vying to get onto the training roster of ninety. My veteran status has no bearing. I’m just as desperate as the rest of them.”

“I see,” she said. “Then you’ve got to wipe all thoughts out of your head when you set foot on that field. Your dad and I don’t matter. The arrest video doesn’t matter. Being drunk and stupid doesn’t matter.”

“I know, Mom.” He let out a sigh. “I’m a little terrified. What happens if I don’t mesh with Crew? What if I’m cut? What do I do then?”

“Don’t think like that. You are a fantastic ball player and your old team is going to realize how much they messed up.”

He smiled, even though she couldn’t see. His mother always knew the right things to say.

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