Page 61 of Second Quarter Comeback
“Come on, man,” Tank says, plopping onto thebench next to me. “Talk to me. What’s going on? Is it Lucian? The game?”
“Both,” I admit, yanking on my shirt like it’s offended me. “And Camille.”
At the mention of her name, Tank raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s holding back a smirk. “Camille? Is that the chick you always talk about when you’re drunk? You know, the ‘one that got away’ chick?”
I sigh, running a hand through my damp hair. “Yeah, that’s her. Except now she’s my next-door neighbor, she’s given me this so-called second chance, and she’s keeping me at arm’s length. It’s driving me fucking insane.”
Tank leans back, crossing his arms like he’s about to deliver some overdue advice. “You’re in deep, huh?”
“Deeper than I’ve ever been,” I say quietly, because this time I know what happens if I lose her. I’m aware of how painful life is without her.
He whistles low, shaking his head. “Damn, Kill. You’re whipped, and she’s not even yours.”
I glare at him, but there’s no real heat behind it.
“Look,” Tank says, leaning forward, his tone turning serious. “You’ve got to decide what’s more important right now. The game or the girl. And don’t give me that ‘I can do both’ bullshit. You’ve got Lucian breathing down your neck and the whole country watching. Focus on the game. Lock it down, block everything else out. Then, after you win, figure out howto show her you’re serious. Not just with words—actions.”
I groan, leaning my head against the locker. “How am I supposed to do that when she’s dodging my calls and avoiding me like I’m the plague?”
Tank stands, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “You’ll figure it out,” he says, clapping me on the back. “But first, win the damn game. Then go get your girl. One thing at a time, bro.”
I watch him walk away, his words bouncing around in my head like a ping-pong ball I can’t catch. He’s not wrong. The game is everything right now.
I sit down, staring at the floor, my thoughts tugging in two completely opposite directions.
Tank’s right. First, I have to beat Lucian. Prove to myself that I can still dominate on the field. Then, I’ll figure out how to win her back.
I stand, shoving my gear into my bag. It’s time to get my head in the game. Lucian might be my brother, but on Sunday, he’s the enemy. And I’m not losing. Not to him, and definitely not to the fear of losing Camille.
It’s game time. In more ways than one.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Killion:Not sure what’s going on, but I’m going to give you space before I fuck up our relationship and the game. I’m concentrating on the game not because it’s a priority, but because it seems like you need time.
Camille: Thank you.
Killion:Can you at least tell me what’s going on?
Camille: I’m busy.
Killion:Don’t bullshit me, Cam. If this is going to work—ornot, we need to communicate.
Camille:There’s a lot happening. My investors might pull out. Not sure if it’s them realizing this isn’t what they wanted, or my father being an asshole. I need to figure things out. Then there’s you.
Killion:Thank fuck there’s still a me in the equation.
Camille:Technically, I’m not sure. If I’m leaving, what’s the point?
Killion: Scottie is interested.
Camille:I might give her a call, but if things between you and me don’t work out . . . what then? That’ll be awkward.
Killion:If things don’t work out it’s probably because I’m an asshole who deserves to suffer for the rest of his life. You and my sister will have a partnership and life will go on.
Camille: It sounds simple.
Killion: It is simple.
