Page 102 of Hard to Score

But I don’t want to do any of them.

I can’t.

Instead, I grab my cell, scroll through my contacts, and hit send.

“What’s up, man?”

“Can you rack the tees up, Steve? I need to get some work in.”

“Today’s not a practice day. It’s a rest day. Film review later. Didn’t you get the email?”

“I know. I did. I just need to . . .” I just need it.

The one solace I’ve had my whole life. The sound of my feet on the turf. The whistle of my hand and ball as it whips past my ear. The feeling of being in control of something in my life.

Football.

While I’m suddenly afraid the game was the sin of my father.

It’s been my savior.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

BREXTON

THE STADIUM SEEMS SO MASSIVE when it’s empty.

Empty save for me and the man currently running up and down its steps. The man who owns my heart.

He climbs one after another from the field level to the lower loge to the top loge. One step after another without slowing, as if he’s hell-bent on solving the world’s problems in this one workout session.

But I know he won’t be able to solve a thing by doing it. Maybe quiet his head. Abate some anger and confusion. I can only imagine what he’s trying to work through. Seeing my dad again after all this time. Figuring out how we can be together when his family might just disown him for dating a Kincade. Worrying about the Raptors and if he’ll get more playing time. Or perhaps figuring out how we can be together when his family would hate that he’s dating a Kincade?

I’m not sure how long I watch him but in the time I do, I can tell the weight of the world is on his shoulders. I only wish I could help alleviate it somehow.

But my dad was right—this is something Drew needs to figure out on his own.

And that scares the hell out of me. I can only hope that when the dust settles from the impending explosion I predict is on the horizon, I’m still standing here.

I know the minute Drew sees me. He trips over the next step going up but catches himself and keeps going as if he didn’t.

So I take a seat and wait for him to finish the zig-zag of rows until he can’t avoid me anymore and I’m right in his path.

“You’re not answering my texts,” I say when he slows to a stop in front of me. I’m standing with my ass against the gate that he needs to get onto the field to go into the tunnel to the locker rooms.

His eyes meet mine, a torrent of emotion raging through them. “I was busy.”

“Running till you collapse isn’t going to solve anything.”

“Like you have a fucking clue what would, huh?” Instead of going through the gate at my back he just hops over the railings at my right and onto the field.

“Excuse me?” I say scrambling after him, kind of surprised by the comment.

“You heard me.”

“Running and hiding isn’t going to fix a thing, Drew.”

“Why don’t you go back to your fucking family and give me some space.”