Page 90 of Changing Rules

Those four simple words send my heart racing. “What?”

“We know how hard it all was for you,” Drew says. “The breakup, Miller, your dad. We’ve done our best to avoid bringing Bella up, but with her coming back, it didn’t feel right not to clue you in.”

“But…” I trail off.

They don’t know I created a fake account so I could follow her, so I can’t tell them I know a little about her life. She looks so happy. I was sure she’d stay in New York. What about her boyfriend?

“She finished the program and has an internship lined up. But it doesn’t start for a while, so she’s coming home to spend time with her family.” Marco breaks into a grin. “She’ll be at our first game.”

My lungs seize up.

She’ll be at our game?

Fuck. I need a plan.

CHAPTER 24

PROMISE ME

XANDER

August

“Hey,”I say as I head straight for my dad, who’s propped up in bed, eyes closed. The rich voice of an audiobook narrator fills the room. I can only guess it’s another Dickens novel. He has listened to them all at least once.

He grunts in greeting as I sit beside him.

He looks thinner than he did even a week ago. He barely eats—just a snack here and there, driving Mom up the wall. She’s a paler version of herself too. Another side effect of his sickness.

“How are you?” I ask.

He has no desire to put up a fight, and every day he reminds me more and more of a withered garden on the brink of winter. It’s devastating to watch him disappear like this, especially for the little boy within me who thought his dad was the strongest, smartest person in the world.

“Good. I’m good. Nothing has changed.” He opens his eyes, finally peering at me.

The doctors say his vision won’t return. Silhouettes and shadows are the only things he sees.

“How have you been?” he asks. “Ready for the first preseason game?”

He’s always been my biggest fan, happy to listen to me simultaneously brag and complain. Thankfully, that hasn’t changed. If anything, he’s even more invested in what I have to say. It’s like as long as we’re talking about football, he reverts to his old self.

Clearing my throat, I shift so I’m sitting against the headboard at his side. “I have a good feeling about it. We’re all vibing at practice, and the guys are motivated. They want to win just as much as I do.”

It feels good to smile like this. These days, my smiles are rare, and I can’t remember the last time I really laughed. I’ve gotten good at faking it.

Some days it’s easier; other days it’s a nightmare.

“Feeling confident, are you?” With a laugh, Dad pats my hand. It takes him a second to find it, and he fumbles a bit, but he does it.

I suck in air, suddenly forgetting how to breathe. I miss spending time with him the way we used to, so damn much. Our interactions have always been easy, whether we were shooting the shit or strategizing about my career. I miss us, father and son, nothing else.

“Well.” I clear my throat again, trying to affect a normal tone.

He hates when we pity him.

“Maybe a bit, but with good reason. These days, I have plenty of free time to devote to football. And it’s paying off.”

“You’ve always been hardworking.” Dad frowns. “What’s the difference now?”

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