“We better get dressed,” Laney disrupts the silence way too soon.
I know she’s right, my mom will be home soon, but I’m just not ready to let her go. “One more minute.”
She humors me.
“Laney?”
“Yeah, Kam?”
“If I never played football again, would that be okay with you?” I don’t know what spurs the question. Old demons, maybe.
Laney stops tracing my stomach and lifts her head to look at me. Her hair is a bit messy and there is a red-streaked strand falling over her right eye. “Of course it would. I don’t care that you play football, Kam. I only care that you’re happy.” I nod. I only care that she’s happy, too. “And I have complete faith you’ll play football again. The question is, do you want to?”
“More than anything.” I don’t even hesitate.
“Then you will.”
“I hope so.” I stare at the ceiling. I don’t know how one aspect of my life can be so perfect and the other be such a mess.
Laney lies back down and hugs me tight. Her touch alone is medicinal. “My father was watching this football movie the other night. I don’t know the name of it,” she starts. “I was only half paying attention. But I remember the coach being interviewed by a reporter. She asked what his team was missing. I guess they weren’t very good or something.”
“What was his reply?” I ask, intrigued.
“Heart. He said they were missing heart.” She looks up at me. “Do you have heart, Kam?”
I stare at Laney. Do I? I thought I did. But ever since the aneurysm, heart seems to be missing.
“I used to.”
“Where is it now?”
I smile at her stupidly. “In my arms.”
