Page 52 of Caden & Theo
His jaw ticks. Just barely. “You think I’m shrinking?”
“No,” I say quickly. “That’s not—” I pause and try again. “I think you’re doing what you need to. To survive here. To play. To stay safe.”
He’s quiet for a long beat. Then he practically whispers, “Sometimes it feels like I’m holding my breath.”
My chest tugs. “I know.”
“And then you show up,” he says, voice lower, “and suddenly it’s easier. But harder too.”
I nod. Because yeah.Exactly that.
“Every time I see you at a game or in the distance, I want to call out. I want to pull you into me and not care who’s watching. But then I think about whoiswatching, and I can’t.” His voice is raw around the edges now. “It’s not that I don’t want to. I just?—”
“Cade.” I sit up a little, shift closer. “I know. I never doubted that.”
He finally meets my eyes, and it guts me. There’s too much in them. Love, frustration, fear, hope. A whole damn storm.
“You’re worth it,” I say.
He exhales. “You shouldn’t have to say that.”
“Maybe not. But I mean it.”
And I do. Even if I hate that we have to hide. Even if it stings every time he looks at me like this—full of everything we can’t show. I’d still do this a hundred times over.
His hand brushes mine again, and this time he lets it linger. His fingers wrap around mine, light and loose and secret behind the bag near our feet.
I could cry from something that small. Instead, I ask, “Have you thought about what happens next?”
He glances at me, confused. “Next?”
“After next season.”
A flicker of recognition. “Oh. Yeah.” He rubs the back of his neck with his free hand. “I’ve been talking to Coach about the draft. Like, actually having those conversations now.”
I sit up straighter. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. I mean, I’m not declaring yet. That wouldn’t be ’til after next season. But Coach thinks I’ve got a real shot at going pro next year.”
My heart kicks in my chest. This is what he’s been working so hard for. I know his parents want him to complete all four years first, but they also won’t stand in his way. Neither will I. “Caden, that’s amazing.”
He shrugs, but he’s trying not to smile. “It’s just talk for now. But he said if I keep up the numbers, keep working on my off-ball movement, and improve my shooting consistency, I could be looking at second-round projections.”
I blink. “That’s huge.”
“I know.” He looks out over the grass, where the sun’s dipping just slightly behind the trees. “I’ve got to meet with an adviser this summer about getting registered with the NCAA’s eligibility center, maybe start thinking about agents. Thought I’d talk to Cameron.”
I nod in understanding. While Cameron, one of our high school basketball friends, is also in his sophomore year out west, his dream is to become a sports agent. Knowing the guy, and how dedicated he was, I suspect he’s already got connections and internships set up.
“Coach said I can test the waters next year—go to the Combine, get feedback, and still come back if I don’t like where I land.”
“Right. That’s the new rule now, huh?”
“Yeah. I can declare for the draft and still retain eligibility if I don’t sign with an agent. As long as I withdraw in time.”
I squeeze his hand. “I’m proud of you.”
He laughs under his breath. “You say that like I’ve already made it.”
