Page 88 of Most Valuable Player
I wonder, sometimes, just how thought-out Liam’s plan was for pulling me under his wing. He knew the only romantic relationship I was familiar with was my parents. He knew I struggled to form connections, reassured me that I didn’t need people my age. That they were too young and immature to understand me. He knew how desperately I looked up to him, how my eyes sparkled whenever he came to babysit me.
But I don’t want to assume he was manipulating me from thestart. Maybe there were signs that something was wrong, like when he discouraged me from pursuing things that would expand my world, like marine biology or even summer camp.
There were good times, I swear. He’s not a monster.
Or he wasn’t always.
I have a lot of work to do on my self-worth, grasping the extent of the damage Liam dealt me. Once this final step is taken care of, I can move forward. The banquet. I’ll break things off for good so I can look forward to the championship game and fully support my boyfriend without this gloom hanging over me. I’m ready to face him.
As ready as I can be.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Cameron
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t almost fumble yesterday’s playoff game because the anxiety of today was crushing. It doesn’t help that I’ve been pondering a text from Coach Barnett, who says the scout who came to observe me will be returning to see the championship game.
But I’m not going to think about that. Tonight is Mason’s night.
I stand before my mirror, staring vacantly at the sapphire suit and tie I rented. The world is cloaked in wintry late-November darkness, and I’m hot enough that the biting breeze coming through my open window causes my skin to steam. I can hear branches on naked trees scratching together, the sound grating. My parents, who are usually bantering nauseatingly on Saturday evenings, are abnormally quiet.
They have a good idea about who Liam is—not all the nitty-gritty details, but enough to know why I need to be there for Mason. They’re not happy about my decision to attend his celebratory banquet, and we tried brainstorming ways to get Mason out of it. When I brought them to him, though, he changed. He looked more resolute. Determined.
“I need to tell him face-to-face that it’s over or he’ll keep showing up,” he told me. “You don’t need to come, but I won’t avoid it anymore.”
Honestly, that banquet is the last place I want to be. I hate the effect Liam had on me. Standing in the gallery, I was a deer inheadlights. Shaken, stunned. I remember the moment his eyes iced my veins. If he’s been looking at Mason like that for years, it’s no wonder his soul was completely frozen over when I met him.
After today, Mason will hopefully free himself of the shackles around his wrists. He makes a good point, too—Liam seems persistent, and unless Mason draws the line in the sand, there’s every chance he’ll ambush Mason at home or school to plead his case.
When I enter the living room, Mom smiles widely. “My handsome baby,” she says, straightening my jacket and readjusting my tie, worry lining her tired features. “Be safe, okay? Call us if you need anything. Dad and I are going out to dinner across the street from the banquet, so we’ll pop over if needed.”
“Thanks.” I clutch her nervous hands and smile reassuringly. “It’ll be okay.”
She purses her lips, unconvinced. Until Dad wanders over and settles a burly palm on her shoulder. “Sometimes we have to trust our kids can handle their issues without us,” he mumbles. “All we need to do is be on standby.”
Mom draws a forlorn sigh, then nods. “Good luck, bun,” she says softly.
So I’m off.
When Mason allows me inside, his mother instantly jumps to demand why I’m here. Mason, half-dressed in slacks and a button-down, turns on her with fierce eyes and says, “If I’m going, I’m bringing Cameron.”
The woman scowls, the sequins in her spaghetti-strap dress glinting in her eyes. Her jaw clenches tight enough for the bone to jut through her skin. “I RSVP’d for three people,” she says. “You can’t bring guests to an invite-only party.”
“Then I won’t go.”
Mason’s confrontational aura pops my brows. I’ve been to his place multiple times, and Mason is usually quiet around his parents, sometimes disregarding their presence altogether—particularly his mom. I tried deciphering their relationship for weeks, and it took me a while to realize that they just…don’t have one.
Mason’s mother looks ready to unhinge her jaw and scream, so I snag his shoulders and steer him down the hallway. “Let’s get you dressed,” I squeak out, nudging him into his room.
“What’s your problem?” Mason mutters, eyes locked to the carpet.
“I know you’re nervous.” I press my thumbs behind his neck, trying to massage the strain away. “But half the reason you’re going is to keep your mother from becoming a miserable wretch. Let’s keep her in a decent mood, okay?”
Mason turns and swings his arms around me. I press him protectively into my chest. I wonder if his tremor will go away after tonight, or if it will continue haunting him into the future.
“I’ll be there the whole time,” I whisper.
“I know.” He snuggles deeper into my jacket. “Quarterback?”
