Page 56 of Fumbled Love

I laughed. “That’s too bad because he’s a huge fan of yours.”

“So, you and Usher talked about me, huh?” He draped his arm along my shoulders and pulled me closer.

I leaned into him. “I might have mentioned that I knew you.”

“Excuse me.” A young boy approached; his eyes were filled with wonder. “Are you Maverick Cross?”

Maverick pulled his hat down on his head and adjusted the sunglasses on his nose that didn’t do much to disguise him. I tried to convince him to leave the glasses behind, that they would only draw more attention, but of course he didn’t listen to me.

“Are you a fan?” he asked, lifting his chin to the other three boys standing off the side.

We’d been spotted a few times, and every time he dodged questions and quickened his pace to avoid taking a selfie. This was the first time today he stopped to talk to one of his fans. Then again, this was a young kid, so he couldn’t ignore him without coming across as a jerk.

“My dad was.” There was no mistaking the sadness in his voice. He couldn’t be older than fourteen.

“Was?” Maverick let go of my hand to give him his undivided attention.

The kid swallowed and looked away. “He died last year. He was a firefighter. He ran into a burning building and the roof collapsed. Him and my uncle Tony both died that day.” He looked up at Maverick. “He was a fireman too.”

My hand went to my heart. I wanted to wrap this kid up in a hug and take away all his pain. I lost my father when I was in fourth grade, so I knew firsthand how heavy that grief was.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Maverick’s voice was so composed, I had no idea how he could be so unaffected. “What’s your name?”

“Joey Bove.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Joey. Do you have a phone?” Joey nodded his head and pulled it out of his coat pocket. “I want to program your number in my phone. I’ll send your number to my agent. Next time we play in New York, I’ll make sure you and your friends get tickets to the game.”

“For real?” he asked, whipping his head over at his friends, who looked like they weren’t sure what to do with themselves.

Maverick nodded his head. “It would be an honor to have you there.” He waved the group of boys over, who looked a little starstruck. “You guys want a picture with me and my buddy Joey?”

Their mouths opened and closed a few times like they were afraid to speak. Finally, one of the boys pushed the others forward. I laughed and took their phones. After snapping a few photos, Maverick made them promise to wait to post them on social media. He explained that he would have to leave if people knew where he was.

I stood off to the side and watched him in his element as he answered their questions and gave them tips on things they could do to improve their game. He also asked what school they played for so he could send some equipment and memorabilia.

“That was really sweet of you,” I said as the group walked away.

He shrugged like it was no big deal. “Happens all the time.”

“Don’t be so modest.” I looped my arm through his. “You made their day. It’s obvious you love what you do.”

“You know,” he said as we continued our stroll through the park, “I always wondered what I would have done if I didn’t play ball.”

I wasn’t expecting that. Football had been his entire focus, even when he was a teenager. He still partied and had fun, but he was always disciplined and worked harder than anyone else on the team. It’s become such a huge part of his identity I couldn’t imagine him doing anything else.

“It’s normal to think that way.” I squeezed his arm. “To wonder what if? But you’ve spent your life doing something you love.”

“It started out that way, but after the first few years, the shine wore off for me. I became obsessed with money and the fact that I’d never have to worry about paying a bill.” He paused as if he were reliving a memory. “When I signed my first contract, I offered to buy my parents a house, but they refused to move, so I paid off their mortgage.”

“That was awfully nice of you.” I sat down on a wooden bench, needing a minute to rest my feet. Not to mention, I was out of breath. I was used to walking, but the pregnancy fatigue was catching up to me.

“My dad gave me shit. He’s got a lot of pride.” He slid in next to me and looked across the park. “They sacrificed so much for me. The camps, the equipment, the tournaments and the travel, that stuff wasn’t cheap. They took out a second mortgage on the house to pay for it all.”

“I’m not surprised. I always admired how close your family was growing up.”

Vinny was a postal worker, and Beth was a school secretary. They were your typical blue-collar family who raised their kids to be respectful and insisted they volunteered their free time. Maverick got stuck doing landscaping around the neighborhood, and Rylee would have to babysit or watch a neighborhood pet for free once a month. I remember Vinny saying,you take care of your friends and neighbors because that’s the right thing to do. You don’t ask for money if they need help. It’s called being a part of a community.

This conversation allowed me to remember that Maverick wasn’t always the legendary star quarterback that he was today. But I still always assumed he loved playing the field, both figural and literally, which brought me to my next question.

---