Laney glances at me, she’s sitting a little bit in front of me so she has to turn her head slightly. The look in her eyes is sexy as hell.
“I am. You’re Kamdyn Ellis, star quarterback, on and off the field.”
“What if I never recover? What then? Who will I be then?” My throat tightens with emotion from just the mere thought.
She shrugs simply. “You’ll have to figure that out.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“It is and it isn’t. I wondered the same thing when my father told me we were moving to Alabama. I thought my life was over. I was leaving everything I knew. My friends, my school, my boyfriend—”
“Boyfriend?” I interrupt. “You never told me you had a boyfriend.”
“I don’t. Not anymore. We broke up when I left.”
“Sorry, ” I offer, although I’m not really sorry at all.
“It’s okay. It didn’t really break my heart. He was nice, but it wasn’t love.”
“So, what, now you’re stuck in Alabama totally miserable?”
“See, that’s the thing. I thought I was going to be miserable, but I’m not. It’s different. Don’t get me wrong, I miss New York terribly, but the country is growing on me.”
“I don’t think I’d ever be able to get past not playing football.” I look down at my hand, and squeeze it into a fist.
“You’ll have to accept it just wasn’t meant to be.”
“I’m not a quitter,” I argue, but there isn’t much fight in my voice.
“I’m not saying you are. And I’m not saying you won’t fully recover and go on to become a Heisman Trophy winner. I’m just saying that if that doesn’t happen, there are other options. Don’t box yourself in. You might find happiness in unexpected places.”
“Are you happy, Lemon?” I ask genuinely.
Laney bats her eyelashes. “I’m getting there.” I don’t know why, but that statement makes me feel the first burst of hope in three weeks. I let go of the pen and turn my hand over, entwining her fingers tightly with mine. She analyzes the gesture.
“Kam—” she sighs.
“Laney,” I cut her off, “I’m really glad it’s you and not Orange Julius who’s here.”
She smirks at me but doesn’t have a chance to respond as my mother chooses that moment to appear with dinner.
“Homemade mac and cheese like the patient requested.” She halts when she walks into the room and sees me and Laney holding hands on my bed. “Hope I’m not interrupting something?” Oh, crap, she has that ‘you’re in trouble’ tone.
“No, nothing.” Laney springs up. “Kam was just having some trouble holding the pen. I was trying to help.” She goes over and sits back down at the desk.
“Oh.” My mother’s face falls. Laney couldn’t have spoken a more perfect sentence. She just got us off the hook big time. My mother knows how hard this recovery is for me. She’s seen the depression take hold and try to drag me under. She isn’t going to blow a little thing like hand holding out of proportion, especially if it preceded an issue with my control.
My mom places the tray of food on my bed then picks up the extra dish and glass of iced tea and serves Laney. “The deal was I would feed you dinner while you were here. It’s not gourmet like you’re probably used to, but I’ve never had any complaints.”
Laney smiles up at my mom. “I’m sure it’s amazing. And trust me, sometimes gourmet isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
“Oh? Your daddy is a world-renowned chef. I can’t imagine you’ve ever eaten a bad meal in your life.”
“Bad? No. Weird, yes. He tried to put dandelions in the salad when I was twelve.”
“Really?” I chime in. “Thatisweird.”
“It’s only the tip of the iceberg.” Laney shakes her head and rolls her eyes.
