Her eyes sought his, as if looking for reassurance.
“I’ve been thinking about maybe signing up to take the college entrance exam next month,” Taylor said, her voice cracking slightly. “I probably need to practice more, but I figure if I sign up for it, then at least that’s one step in the right direction.”
“Just tell me what you need from me,” Jamar said. “I’ve got you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Taylor layered another slice of turkey breast onto her open-face sandwich before adding a dollop of cranberry sauce on top. She wasn’t even all that hungry, but there was something about Thanksgiving that made her want to eat all the things. She sliced the sandwich down the middle and grabbed an extra fork from the drawer, hoping she could convince Jamar to help her eat it.
They originally had plans to spend Thanksgiving with London, Samiah, and Daniel, but at the last minute Samiah and Daniel decided to drive down to Houston to celebrate the holiday with her family. And London had texted that she was being called in to perform an emergency surgery.
Taylor still wasn’t sure how Jamar felt about their Thanksgiving for two, but as for her, she had much preferred today’s quiet, chill vibe over the stressful holiday she usually experienced with her family.
She’d been able to enjoy the meal they’d ordered last minute from a local grocery store—which Jamar had insisted they eat in his formal dining room because it was tradition—without that cloud of anxiety hovering in the air. And now she was looking forward to relaxing on the couch in a tryptophan-induced daze while suffering through whatever football game was on television.
She carried the turkey sandwich and two bottles of apple juice out of the kitchen. She was moving less awkwardly now that she was no longer wearing the ankle splint, but she still took care as she made it from the kitchen to the living room.
“I know we just ate like two hours ago, but Thanksgiving means turkey sandwiches,” Taylor said. She plopped down next to him on the couch and frowned at the home improvement show on the television. “Why aren’t you watching the game?”
“How do you know there’s a game on?”
“EvenIknow that Thanksgiving means football. My dad, brother, and brother-in-law always cram together on the couch in my dad’s man cave, screaming at the TV.” She gestured at the seventy-five-inch LCD above the fireplace. “Why don’t you have it on?”
Taylor sensed his reluctance as he switched from the home improvement show to the game.
“What’s going on here?” she asked. “For someone who’s trying so hard to get back into the NFL, you don’t seem all that interested in it.”
“It’s not the game,” he said. “It’sthisgame in particular that’s hard for me to watch.” He looked over at her, one corner of his mouth tilted up in a sad smile. “I was hurt in the Thanksgiving game against the Lions.”
“Oh,” was all Taylor could manage. Why hadn’t he said that before she goaded him into switching the channel? “We don’t have to watch,” she said, but he didn’t seem to hear her. He’d focused in on the television screen, and if the intensity in his eyes was anything to go on, his attention would remain there.
Taylor sat through a stretch of interminable, tension-filled silence before deciding she couldn’t take it anymore.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she blurted.
“What? The game?” he asked, motioning to the television.
“Not this game. Theothergame. The one where it happened.” She gestured to his knee. “Maybe talking will help.”
He sat back on the couch and stretched his arms across the back of it.
“There’s not much to talk about,” he said. “I mean, other than the fact that watching this right now makes me want to lose my Thanksgiving dinner.”
“Jamar—”
“I’m joking,” he said. “Honestly, Taylor, I’m fine. Watching it just . . . it just brings back some not-so-good memories.”
She paused for a moment. After debating whether to say anything, she decided to go for it. “Did you see someone after you got hurt? Like a therapist?”
“The League mandates it. If he were here right now, my therapist would say that I’m still taking time to digest dealing with my injury and that it’s okay not to be okay with it just yet.
“But Iamokay, Taylor. Really,” he said, which told Taylor that she wasn’t doing a good job of schooling her features. “I didn’t mean to make a big deal out of it, but this is the first time these teams have played since I got hurt and I guess I just wasn’t as prepared as I thought I’d be. It’s still so damn raw.”
“Of course it is,” she said. “Are you sure you don’t want to change the channel?”
He shook his head. “I’m good.”
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and gathered her close. As she nestled against his chest, Taylor fully processed the surrealness of the moment. Never did she think when she’d blurted those words to Alec Mooney that just weeks later she and Jamar Dixon would be in anactualrelationship.
