Page 74 of Trust Me Always

“You don’t have to wait.”

“OMG, are you still here?” she jokes, tearing her closet doors open and digging around in the little dresser tucked in there.

I slip out and into the bathroom. I’m in and out in fiveminutes or less, stepping back into her room as I scrub the towel across my head to get the excess water.

She’s already changed into her pj’s—a big shirt and shorts—and has arranged our food, having set us up on laptop pads with something playing quietly on the TV.

Her head pops up, gaze landing on my bare chest before lifting to meet my eyes. “Well, are you just gonna stand there and play the role of the Greek god statue or…?”

Smirking, I quietly close the door, hanging my towel on the little hook on the back of it. Picking up both of the laptop pads so our plates don’t fall off when the mattress dips, I climb onto the bed beside her, setting our food back down.

Cam opens up her tri-tip sandwich and is digging in before I’ve even gotten the lid off my pulled-pork mac and cheese. We eat in silence for a few minutes and then she wipes her mouth, reaching over the side of the bed to grab her drink.

“So our little outing was super random.” She shakes her cup a little and goes in for a sip.

“Well, you did crawl onto my hood uninvited.”

Cameron grins, tossing a salt packet at me.

I swat it away and she raises a brow.

“Obviously, I wasn’t referring to you and me, since we’re at the food trucks at least once a week. I meant the practice.”

I take another bite of my mac and cheese, and Cameron groans dramatically, picking up a piece of tri-tip that fell out of her roll.

A low chuckle leaves me, and I nod, swallowing my food before reaching over for my own drink. “I just wanted to see what was up. They start after us, so they’re always practicing later.”

Cam nods. “And you know this how?”

I shrug, stealing one of her Tater Tots and tossing it in my mouth. “I go and watch every now and then. Maybe once or twice a month.”

“Really?” she asks curiously. “Why?”

I shrug, focusing on my food. “Just wanna stay aware, youknow? See what they’ve got on their roster, listen for any rumors I might pick up about transfers that might come in next year or whatever.”

Cam studies me, pushing her tots my way as she settles back against the pile of pillows along her headboard. “Brady,” she begins, a hint of hesitancy in her raspy tone. “We’re juniors. You know what that means. You’re going to be drafted come April. You won’t be here next year, let alone next season.”

“I…ugh—” I cut off, clearing my throat.

“What?” she asks softly, tucking her legs up so she’s in a little ball.

“What if I told you I don’t think I want to be drafted?”

Her eyes widen, and she sits forward, a little frown creasing along her forehead.

With a small smile, I reach over and wipe it away, my eyes falling to hers. “I kinda want to go home, Cammie Girl. Go back and work on the farm like in high school.”

Surprise covers her features then. “With my dad?”

I shrug. “Or start my own, I don’t know.” I shrug again, busying myself by reaching over to grab the bag and throwing our garbage away. “It’s just a thought. I mean, I don’t really have a plan or anything.”

“Brady.” She waits until I look at her. “Are you afraid?”

A choked laugh leaves me, and I clear my throat, shifting on the bed so I’m facing her fully. I contemplate my words, but the longer I look into her big blue eyes, at the tender smile on her pretty lips, the more they untangle.

“If I get drafted, if I’m somehow that lucky and make it to the biggest stage the sport has to offer, it would be a literal dream come true. Hundreds of thousands of people have that same dream, but only handfuls get to live it. If I get drafted, I could get hurt in the first season, hell the first game or play, and just like that, everything could be gone. I don’t want that for myself. I worked way too fucking hard, not only on the field but in theclassroom. I won’t cut out the first semester I’m eligible to enter the draft—not that there’s anything wrong with that. There isn’t, but for me and what I want in life?” I shake my head, my words stronger, more sure as I focus on Cameron. “I’m gonna graduate, Cammie Girl, with honors, and I’m going to have a degree under my belt. And if football comes after that, then I’m even more blessed.”

Cameron stares at me, her eyes growing a little glossy. When she speaks, it’s a one-word whisper. “Wow.”

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