Page 91 of Matched By My Rival
Mom shook her head, eyes wide as if I’d given her terrible news. “But your senior season… You could get drafted or signed—”
“Those are long odds, even with a great season.”
“Not that long,” she argued. “Cortez is graduating, and you’re positioned to be the top wide receiver in the conference. Parker, this is your chance to have everything you want!”
“It’s not what I want.”
“Butwhy?” She looked ready to cry. I heaved a sigh, and stood up from the table to hug her. She clutched at me. “Why, Parker?”
I kissed the top of her head. “I found something I love more. That’s all, Mom. It’s not a bad thing, is it, if it makes me happy?”
“Are you sure?”
I pulled back to look into her glistening eyes. She hastily dabbed at the tears forming. “I know this is a big decision. I’ve been thinking about it a long time.”
Mom excused herself to the bathroom as I retook my seat. Dad squeezed my shoulder. “She’ll be okay.”
“Yeah?”
“She just needs time to sit with it. Your mom gave up some big dreams once upon a time. When you started football, she lived through yours.”
I nodded. I knew Mom had been a dancer when she was young, and that she’d given it up for her first husband. She’d always regretted it, and ultimately, it had led to their divorce. Then she’d met Dad, had kids, and tied her dreams to ours.
Only for me to take them away again.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I know how much she wants this.”
“It’s your life,” Dad repeated. “You can’t live it for your mother. She knows that too. She loves you, and whatever your dream is, she’ll love it too—because it’s yours.”
I nodded, feeling more emotional than I thought I would. I’d been sitting with this worry for a long time. Not that they’d be angry or disown me or something dramatic. Just that I’d hurt them, make them feel all the pride and support they’d given me over the years was wasted.
“We’re proud of you, Parker,” Dad said as Mom returned to the table. “If you need to walk away from the demands of football, that’s okay.”
“Just promise me one thing,” Mom said.
“What is it?”
“Promise me you’re not doing this for a girlfriend, or…”
“I have a boyfriend,” I said. Then swallowed as an ache shot through me. “I hope anyway. I’m not doing it for him. He’s about as happy as you are about it.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I might like this guy. Who is he?”
“You remember Simon Prentiss?”
“Simon Prentiss?” she hissed. “Oh no. No, no, no. You’re not telling me that the player whohityou is now your boyfriend.”
I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. “I don’t know, Mom. Depends on whether he forgives me for quitting football when it meant everything to him and he was forced to give it up.”
“Because he hit you,” she muttered.
“I recovered. He’s the one who lost everything.”
“Not everything,” she argued. “If he has you, then he’s got something special. I hope he’s smart enough to see that.”
Bringing out Mom’s protective nature had worked wonders in getting her to accept my news. I wasn’t under any illusions though. She’d spent too many years as a proud booster to accept this easily.
“What about the game tonight?” Dad asked. “Are you going to play?”
