“You’re not asking,” Jamar said.
“Jamar—”
“I mean it, Drea. He may not be my grandfather by blood, but he is in every other way.”
She shook her head, a somber smile pulling at her lips. “You’re just as stubborn as my brother was.”
“Wrong. I’mwaymore stubborn than Silas was.”
“I can’t argue with that,” she said with a laugh. She made her way back to where he stood, just inside the door to the small hospital room. “He would have been so proud of you,” Drea said, kissing his cheek. “Thank you for always being there for us.”
The weight of her words settled heavy in Jamar’s chest.
Money wasn’t at the top of his list of reasons for wanting to return to the League. Fulfilling his promise to Silas that he would have the career they’d both dreamed of and shoving crow into the mouths of those haters who counted him out following his knee injury both ranked higher. But Jamar couldn’t deny that a new NFL contract would go a long way in helping to take care of both his family and Silas’s family for decades to come.
This quest to make it back into the League wasn’t just about him; it was about all the other people in his life that he wanted—needed—to provide for. Drea’s words drove home just how stupid and irresponsible it was to get caught up in all these feelings for Taylor. He’d hired her for a reason, and she was damn good at her job. He would not allow his overexcited dick to mess things up. Too many people were counting on him.
Just then, the door swung open and Big Silas was wheeled into the room by a harried-looking nursing assistant. Jamar got another earful from him about making the drive from Austin, but then he and Drea spent the next half hour laughing as Big Silas regaled them with the latest stories of him and his dominoes buddies.
The nurse came in carrying two small plastic cups. She scanned the hospital bracelet, then explained each medication as she handed the tiny cups to Big Silas.
“Radiology will be here in about ten minutes to take you up for your CT scan.”
“It looks as if they have everything under control here,” Jamar said once the nurse left the room. “I should probably head over to see my folks.” He shoved one hand in his pocket and rubbed the back of his neck with the other, preparing himself for pushback.
He glanced at Drea, who stood with her arms crossed over her chest.
“So . . . umm . . . Big Silas,” Jamar started. “As I was driving in, I noticed that new place they built out there on Bartlett Road. The one with the nice fountain in front.”
“That old folks home?” Big Silas asked.
“It’s called an assisted-living facility,” Drea said.
“I don’t care whattheycall it.Iknow it’s an old folks home. Now why you bringing it up?”
Jamar raised his hands. “I was just saying how nice it is. You know . . . with the fountain and everything.”
This conversation had gone a lot differently in his head. He looked to Drea, waiting for her to back him up. She just stared at him, her eyes teeming withI told you so.
He stared back at her and tipped his head toward her grandfather.
“We don’t have to talk about any of this now,” Drea said as she unfolded the plaid shirt and draped it across Big Silas’s bony shoulders. “I’ll stay at the house for a few days once they spring you loose from this place.”
Jamar nodded in agreement. He would call Drea once he was back in Austin and they would come up with an alternate game plan. Maybe they could convince him to give the live-in nurse a chance.
Once Jamar was assured that things were all good with Drea and Big Silas, he left the VA clinic and headed for his parents’ house, or as he tended to refer to it: home. That seven-bedroom house he lived in back in Georgetown was the kind of place he’d always dreamed of living in. He’d paid cash for it, snatching it up for what his real estate agent considered a steal at five million. It was spacious and professionally decorated and had every bit of luxury he could ever hope for.
But it was the simple two-story ranch-style house with the basketball hoop attached to the garage that would always be home. He’d offered to buy his parents a new place when he made it to the NFL and had felt no small bit of relief when they’d turned him down. This house provided comfort when he needed it. His old bedroom remained a sanctuary that he could return to when he yearned for peace and quiet.
Although they wouldn’t allow him to do too much to the house, Jamar had convinced his dad to let him add on the woodworking room he’d always wanted. This past summer he’d built his mom a “she shed” that his dad now complained about because she spent too much time in there.
He pulled up to the house, happy to find both their cars parked in the driveway. They weren’t expecting him home for a few weeks yet—not until Thanksgiving. It would be fun to surprise them.
He used his house key to let himself inside.
“Hey,” he called. “Anybody home?”
His question was initially met with silence, but then he heard, “Jamar?”
