Page 47 of Quarterback Crush
And with a remark that was both rushed and random, I said, “I think I wanna be a chef.”
“I don’t think a broken leg is necessarily an end to your football career,” George said with a laugh. “You’ll be fully healed before you know it.”
“I don’t want a football career,” I said.
“Huh?” George stopped pushing and I tilted my head to try to look behind at him.
“I’ve never wanted a football career.”
“But you—”
“Dad wants it. I don’t.” The words came off of my tongue with a brutality not meant for George, but he copped it nonetheless.
“Dude?” George abandoned the chair and stood in front of me, startled.
“I love football but it’s not what I want to do,” I said.
“But...Dad is always saying how great you’re doing and how many colleges are interested.”
“Yeah, it’shisdream, George. It’s never been mine. It’s just that you, Ryan and Lance never took that path so he pushed it onto me.” It was a relief and a release to have gotten it off of my chest, like I’d been dying to say it out loud.
“Okay, okay,” George placated, spreading his hands in a gesture for me to calm down.
“It might sound crazy but I’m almost glad I broke my leg,” I said. “You don’t know the sort of pressure I’ve been under.”
“Ollie, why didn’t you say something?” George squatted down, his face in a frown.
I shrugged. It had been one of those situations where the longer you left it, the harder it was to say or do something about it. Sort of like dating Savannah—an on-off relationship because I lacked the courage to leave it. Yeah, that was my problem—I was a coward, scared to stand up for myself.
But because of Maya, I now had some belief in myself, wanted to find my passion—and I was pretty sure it was food.
“Bro, I’m here for you,” George said, holding out his clenched fist. “We’reallhere for you.”
“You’ll be there when I tell Dad?” (Yep, I wasn’t that brave.)
“Of course,” George said. “I mean, we’re theBlackwell Brothers,right? We stick together.”
I nodded, a relieved breath whooshing out of me.
“Hey,” said George, returning to push me. “So, Maya Shelton...you guys hit first base yet?”
“Shut it, George. Not telling!”
George chuckled, a satisfied smirk on his face. “Ahh, so you have then.”
MOM HAD BORROWED PENNYAdlam’s van to drive us to the game because I’d been able to extend my leg which was a hundred times more comfortable than bending it. George and Lance drove back with us, while Ryan went with Dad.
I fell asleep as soon as we started moving and Mom and George helped me to bed when we got home. The next morning Mom was the first in my room to open the curtains and to give me my pain medication.
“You sleep well?” she asked.
“Yeah, pretty good,” I said, “but I kept waking.”
“Still sore?” I nodded and she tutted. “It might have been a little over ambitious to go to the game yesterday.”
“Yeah, but I had to be there.”
“Rest is more important. You don’t want to compromise the healing process.”
