Page 213 of Scoring the Player
“Just let me finish. I think your heart is still broken. And you hide it in random hookups and ball. I think if it weren’t broken, you’d see what I see. That there’s no one more deserving of love than you.”
My fingers dig into my arm as a bubble grows in my throat.
“I know it hurts, but you need to hear this. I’m honored to be the one who knows you the best, and I will always be that for you, but there’s someone else who also wants to know you. Who’s also worthy of love. He sat right there the other day with a hurt heart too.”
I screw my eyes closed. “I can’t?—”
The thought of him hurting…
My hand covers my mouth.
“Shhh.” She wipes my tears. “It’s okay.”
I shake my head. “I really didn’t want to hurt him.”
“You can’t always avoid hurting the people you love.”
I look toward the window, but all I see is his smile that first time he approached me on the court all those years ago, filled with so much hope.
Hope that terrified me.
How do people do this—live with hurting the people they love?
I never even told him I love him.
Does he know?
“I need his address,” I say.
“Why do you think I waited to tell you when you were here?” she says.
I lean down and kiss her forehead. She still wipes my tears before her own. I drag the arm of my hoodie down and clean her up.
“You know you kept me alive,” I tell her.
“I didn’t?—”
“You did. When they ran off Ms. Brown, all I had was you. When I look back, I see how much pain you were in, too, and no one…” My voice catches.
“Arnaz.” She shifts to face me. “You gave me purpose. You were the only light in our house.” I shake my head, but she holds my chin. “You were the Only. Light. And I saw how that light dimmed every day, and I would have given everything to stop it.”
“But it wasn’t your job,” I insist.
“I don’t care. You were more mine than theirs. I was lonely before you came along. Can you imagine if it were just me in their house?”
Oh god.
“Yeah.” She breaks into a wet laugh, making me laugh too. “Horrific.”
I getan alert that the food is arriving. I wipe my eyes on my hoodie as she reaches for a tissue and blows her nose.
“I’ll be back,” I tell her as I rise.
She nods and directs me to the staircase, as if sensing my dread at being cornered in an elevator withhim.
Food in hand, I’m closing the front door when I hear, “Arnaz, can we please talk?”
“Christ!”
