Marisa would’ve killed me if I told him about the fire. I’d badgered her about calling and she swore she would.
“The paramedics didn’t even take me to the hospital. LJ picked me up and brought me here. I’m good. I’ve got people around me I can count on.” That was a grenade launched straight in his face.
His gaze swung back to her, softening. Worry creased the deep lines of his face. “What about your things? Do you need new clothes? A computer? Or anything else before your trip?”
“I took care of it all. Renter’s insurance is paying for most of it. I’ll save a nice chunk of change on the checked bag fee, since I only have enough possessions to fill one.”
He shook his head, pain and regret etched deep in every line. “I wish you’d called me.”
She let loose a humorless laugh. “I’ll see you at Monday dinner.”
“I know you think I’m the bad guy, Marisa.” He lifted the brim a few times like he needed to air out the furnace churning in his head before settling it back on his head. “All I want is for you to be safe and happy.”
Marisa peeked over at me with a hide-and-seek smile. “I am.” She stepped closer to me and wrapped her arm around my waist. Her fingers toying with the waistband of my sweats. Shit. This was monumentally bad. After three years of dinners, she’d never taken pissing her dad off this far.
My muscles went lockjaw tight.
His laser focus was back on me. His gaze swept over me from top to bottom, zeroing in on my crotch like he was about to rip my dick off with his bare hands.
I followed his gaze and with horror-movie realization saw the spot on the front of my pants. The slightly damp, definitely not pee spot as I stood with his daughter’s arm wrapped around me.
I jolted, jumping back and pulling Marisa’s arm from around me and dropping my hands in front of me.
She looked over at me, her eyebrows dipping before she folded her arms across her chest again.
My stomach plummeted.
“And I’m safe and happy.” But she didn’t sound it in the slightest. There was an edge to her voice. “I’ll see you on Monday.” She closed the door without waiting for his reply.
With a long hard look at me that felt even more searing than the one from her dad, she dropped her arms and climbed up the stairs to my bedroom.
“Brutal.”
I jerked at the invasion, turning to glare at Reece holding a mug and standing in the kitchen doorway.
“I don’t need the commentary.”
He stepped in closer, chancing a glance at the empty staircase. “All I’m saying is you need to make a choice, because you might not just be fucking yourself over with this thing with you and Marisa. Coach could take this whole house out. I know you two have been friends for forever. But he has your career by the balls. If he decides you’re out, that’s it. No draft. No pro career. No pro money.”
“She’s my best friend.”
“Would she want you giving up your dream for her? For your family?”
My back stiffened. It had been a hard road since my dad had first been diagnosed. My parents had tried to shield me and my brothers, but there’s only so much that can be hidden.
My parents had been struggling even after my dad beat cancer three years ago. It was the scariest time in my life, a time I never wanted to go back to, where we’d had to sit down and decide if we wanted a roof over our heads or to push forward with lifesaving treatment for my dad. If anything like that happened to someone I cared about again, I wanted it to be as easy as writing a check.
I’d waited so long for the time to be right. It had never been.
Not after our first kiss in my backyard treehouse in third grade, where she punched me in the nuts for springing on her.
Not after our second one at the seventh-grade dance, where our braces got stuck together beside the pull-out bleachers in the gym, and we’d had to be separated by the school nurse. We’d spent the next couple years trying to live that down.
Not after I recreated the senior trip for her after she’d saved my dad’s life and she had made it categorically known that she wasn’t into me that way.
But keeping this inside was like wrestling with a part of my soul trying to break free to tell her.
“I love her.”
He squeezed the back of his neck, shaking his head. “Will you still love her in a year? In two years?”
“I’ve loved her since we were fifteen. It’s never going away.”
With the all-knowing look he’d barely earned after having his cake and eating it too with a first-round draft pick and the woman he loved, he dropped his hand to my shoulder. “What’s better for everyone? Waiting or thinking with your dick?”
“I’m not thinking with my dick.”
“That’s not what the stain on the front of your sweats says.” He took a sip from his mug.
I tugged my t-shirt down lower. Did I have a neon fucking sign pointing to my crotch?
Waiting. Waiting even longer for her. I shoved my hands into my hair, resting my forehead in my palms. What choice did I have?
“If I tell her we can’t do this because of her dad, she’ll never forgive him. She barely speaks to him as it is.” I looked to Reece.
“Isn’t it better that she hate him, than hate you?” He disappeared back into the kitchen to leave me with those lingering words.
I was left alone in the empty living room. People laughed and shouted outside on the sidewalks. The blinds were still drawn inside; the house only now waking up.
As much as I wanted the answer to be him, she deserved a shot at some kind of relationship with her dad. Her mom hadn’t always been there for Marisa. A last-minute trip to visit a sick friend, a car breakdown or a work meeting that ran late. Anytime my parents took her aside to talk to her, she’d always reassured us her mom was just busy and was the go-to responsible friend, so everyone always turned to her.
During middle school, Marisa had hung out after school during my practices to get a ride home with me, and she’d usually stayed for dinner.
But her dad was trying. For over a year he’d been trying. Maybe what he was doing to me was fucked up, but I was also the one who showed up to every dinner he tried to have with Marisa to get her to open up. There was only one more dinner left before she left on her trip to Venice—a trip she should’ve been able to take years ago, if it hadn’t been for me. If she hadn’t sacrificed it for me.
Taking the stairs one at a time, I walked up to my bedroom and took a few breaths before pushing the door open.
Marisa was crouched by her backpack, dumping highlighters, pens and paper all over the floor. Her whole life was crammed into that bag and one of my dresser drawers. Other than the few clothes I’d given her, there wasn’t much I could do to help.
My scholarship took care of rent, food, and a night out a few times a semester. I’d check in with the financial aid office and see if I could get a small student loan. Paying it off would be easy as soon as I signed my contract.
I wanted to be able to take her out and replace everything she’d lost. Get her brand new clothes, a top-of-the-line computer, and anything else she wanted. But I wasn’t there—not yet.
After next year. After the draft. After I signed my first pro contract, I’d be able to take care of her and everyone else I cared about without a second thought. I’d seen the plans the drafted seniors were making.