Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Chase
The air is sharp and crisp, but the sun is still warm enough, one of those December days that trick you into thinking winter might hold off just a little longer, even though we know it’s right around the corner.
We’re kicking back on the grassy strip near the playground by Mason and Payton’s family housing unit, scattered in a loose circle while Deaton tosses a bouncy ball between a couple of his day-care buddies. Someone brought a speaker out, and soft music drifts through the air between us.
Mason sighs loudly from where he’s sitting, right between Payton’s legs. She’s got her thumbs working into his shoulders while he leans forward like the weight of the world finally climbed off his back.
“Not saying I wouldn’t rather be out there gearing up for game day this weekend,” he mutters, eyes on Deaton. “But this is so damn nice.”
The guy does look relaxed, maybe for the first time in weeks.
His smile is easy, not tight around the edges, the pressure of leading a team to victory a lot for a man to handle, especially for the quarterback and team captain.
My chest tugs a little, the words such a simple thing for him to say because, come April, he’ll be swooped up quick, maybe even first round.
Brady too, so it’s just a passing comment that doesn’t mean a whole lot.
I’m still trying to figure out how to tell everyone about all the shit happening in my life at once.
The boys still talk about me and the game with hope, and I know, deep down, they truly believe what they’re saying.
Somehow, Coach has held back the news of my diagnosis, I think because the season has technically ended for us, so the focus is on the playoff teams at the moment.
It will circle back around after the championship, though, and I’d hate for everyone to hear it on TV rather than directly from me.
The problem is, once I tell them, they won’t sit here on random afternoons and make comments like he just did. Eggshells will fall around me and they’ll tiptoe, overthinking every word and holding back the ones they think will hurt me somehow.
I don’t want that for them. Their next phase is the NFL and that’s something to be excited about, so I’ve kept quiet about that having been my final season as a football player.
Just like I’ve kept quiet about this being my final semester.
I have a few things in the works that might allow me to stay close, at the very least, but I just have to wait and see how they play out. Once I do, I’ll tell them.
Paige shifts against me, drawing me back in. Her legs are folded beneath her, and she’s leaning slightly into my sides. Her lips meet my cheek, and I wrap my arm around her waist tucking her into my chest, letting my chin fall to her shoulder.
I bury my nose into her neck, just breathing her in, letting myself forget for half a second.
She’s been my rock, so supportive and not in a way where I feel pitied. It was the right decision to tell her, and our relationship feels stronger than ever because of it.
I kiss her skin and she wiggles a bit, my lips curving against her shoulder. I nip at the softness there, and her giggles follow.
I fucking love that sound.
Yeah, okay so maybe I’m being clingy, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Thank god, too, ’cause if I don’t hold on… No, we’re not going to think about that.
“Yo, cool it with the PDA, my man.” Brady kicks my shoe, and I look up. “Some of us are still recovering from seeing you two ‘baking’ in the kitchen this morning.”
I laugh, but I don’t let her go.
Brady sees right through it, his teasing fading into something quieter, something knowing, and I return his small smile with one of my own.
His attention shifts to Paige then. “By the way, Little Miss Baker, where are those raspberry scones you whipped up?”
Paige smiles and stretches across me, grabbing the Tupperware full of the treats he’s after and tossing it his way.
Everyone seems to be in a pretty good place, even though the season ended earlier than we wanted. Finals are coming up on Monday. Just another reason why it’s not quite the right time to tell them. No one needs the extra weight right now, least of all from me.
“Hey, so are we still good to go look for some boxes on Sunday?” Brady asks around a mouthful of scone.
I nod, and Paige glances up at me in question. “You’re looking at me like I’m supposed to remember something.”
She chuckles. “Dinner with my grandpa before I head back to his place to help plan our trip.”
Right. While we’re all supposed to head to the beach house, Paige is going to take her first family vacation with her grandfather. They haven’t picked a destination yet, but I’m betting it will be somewhere expensive. And far away.
I tell myself what I’ve been telling myself since she mentioned it last week: This is a good thing. I can go home, spend some time with my dad and see what else I can sell other than the football cards I pawned this week, and maybe I’ll have a job and a place before she even gets back home.
I realize Brady is still looking at me, waiting for an answer and try not to swallow.
“Monday after finals?”
“Works for me. It’s not like I’m taking much home yet.” He chuckles.
“Hey!” Cam smacks him, head still buried in her textbook. “I want to start packing on Monday, that way I can take those last few days to really go through everything and see what I need to leave and what can go.”
I might have convinced everyone we should take some things to the beach house when we head out next week.
I didn’t think anyone would go for it, seeing as they still have one full semester here, but surprisingly, they agreed, planning to leave not much more than their clothes and necessities behind.
It was the only thing I could think of so that when they saw me loading up my things, no one would question it.
“So, Monday afternoon?” I double-check.
“Yep.” He nods. “I’m staying the night at Cam’s Sunday, and I’ve got no finals till Tuesday, so just pull up when you’re done and we’ll go.”
Panic flairs and I tense. “Actually, can we take your truck?”
He frowns for half a second but shrugs it off a moment later and digs into his second scone.
It’s a little after two when I make an excuse to leave a bit early, letting Paige know I’ll call her later tonight before bed.
I head to the little pizza place down the road and pull into the parking lot, my shoulders falling when I see the Help Wanted sign is no longer hanging in the window. I never did get a call.
That’s all right.
I’ve got a good eight or so other applications out right now. Someone is bound to call.
Unless every other college student is looking for work over the break too, but then again, my availability won’t end in January.
The sound of gravel crunching has me turning. A blue Bronco pulls in, one of the ancient ones with only the doors and the long, massive window in the back—the one I was told to look out for.
I open the glove box, pulling out the single paper that now sits inside.
My fingers run over the edges slowly.
Maybe it’s dumb, but I feel like I’m betraying something, like I’m handing over a part of my identity. But then again, who even am I now?
I climb from the cab, forcing a smile as I reach the old man who exits the vehicle first. The guy in the passenger seat is out next, and of course he’s wearing an AU baseball hat, a wide grin on his face as he circles my truck.
He slips inside, revs the engine, and pops the hood, disappearing under it while I stand back, a hint of guilt in my gut.
When he comes back, his grandfather at his side, it’s with a white envelope and a smile.
He holds it out and I take it, passing him the pink slip in return.
“Thanks, man,” he says. “She’s a beauty.”
“Yeah.” I nod. “She is. My dad took good care of her.”
He slips inside it and drives away.
I watch as my truck rolls down the road, its new owner behind the wheel.
I look down at the envelope in my hand.
There’s four thousand dollars in it, and I thought holding it in my hands would make things start to feel right.
It doesn’t, and I’m not sure what to do with that.
Paige
He’s not okay, and I’m not sure what to do about it.
He disappears at random times, and when he comes back, it’s always with his shoulders a little lower, his eyes a little less alive.
But the saving grace is when he sees me or takes my hand, and everything in him shifts.
His smile is more genuine and his eyes shine.
He spends so much time trying to be strong, and I don’t know how to tell him he doesn’t have to be. Not for me. I know it might not be the same, but I do know what it means to hurt; I know loss. First with my dad—I didn’t know my mom, so she doesn’t count—and then the studio.
The plan was never to be actively there after I purchased it, at least not yet.
I knew I had to get through school first before I could dedicate my life to the youth in need, like some of my past instructors did for me.
If it weren’t for youth groups and rec centers, my life would have been a lot different.
Those programs and the people who ran them were one of the only ways my dad was able to work to give us a home.
I want to give back in the same way, but then the flood happened, and the damage just keeps coming. The place will be shut down and seized by the city soon.
That’s the only reason why I agreed to go away for the holiday with my grandpa, especially with Chase hurting the way he is. I think it will be good for him to finally talk to his dad about what the doctors told him.
And honestly he seemed really happy for me when I told him my grandpa’s idea.
My grandpa was so excited I agreed that he even promised we wouldn’t talk about work or the offer he made me.
Funny, considering I’m going to ask him to allow me to sign it while we’re there.
There’s a part of me that worries Chase won’t understand, but I’m hoping once I give him all the facts, he will. I have to believe that.
The alternative is just too devastating.