Page 99 of Most Valuable Player
They don’t respond. Part of me wants to sink under the table so I can’t feel their eyes, but I keep steady, knowing I still haven’t explained myself enough.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble, a familiar stinging surfacing in my eyes. “Iknow things have been tough since we moved. I know taking a position like that is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that hardly anyone will ever get to experience. I know it could keep us from sinking into more debt. I know that turning it down is selfish. So. I’m sorry. I promise I’ll find another way to—”
“Cameron.”
Mom’s voice is gentle. It draws my gaze up to hers, and I’m startled to see that she’s smiling weakly, her own eyes glazed with tears.
“Sweetheart,” she whispers, “you have neverowed usfor anything.”
My mom always has this way of luring the latent tears down the rest of my face. “But it’s my fault we had to move,” I croak, snatching my napkin so I can dab the water away. “If I hadn’t been…If I had stood up for myself, I…”
“Cameron Morelli,” Dad says, more stern than normal, and it worsens the flow I’ve been trying to stem. “Our decision to move was based on several factors. We had been considering it foryears, but it took a while to gather the funds for a down payment on a new place here in Elwood. You and your mother faced the worst of what that miserable little town had to offer.”
He folds his thick, hairy fingers together atop the table, pinning me with his stare. His level face is lessening the painful ringing of panic in my ears.
“Yes, we may have quickened our decision because of what we saw happening to you,” he continues. “We may have moved before we were fully ready. That was our decision. Not just for you, but for all of us. It was the best choice we’ve ever made because suddenly, we were happy again. The three of us. Things aregood, Cameron.”
He reaches across the table with his ridiculous wingspan and clutches my left fist, which has been lying there, clenched and white.
“You don’t owe us for that decision,” he murmurs. “It’s our job toprovide a safe, loving, accepting environment for you. Seeing you smiling and making friends…that’s payment enough.”
My breath is haggard and my face is sopping wet. Mom also reaches out, settling her hand atop his and mine.
“We’re sorry if you ever felt pressured to do something you didn’t want to because of this,” she says softly. “If you don’t want to play football in college, or if you only want to play on a rec team, or if you want to drop it altogether, we’ll support you. All we have ever wanted is your happiness, Cammy. Don’t factor money into what you want to do, okay?”
Cam Morelli would’ve walked away from this conversation eons ago with a shudder of revulsion at his own weakness.
But I’m not him. I’m myself again. So I lunge onto my feet, skirt around the corner of the table, and fling myself into my parents’ arms, bursting into sobs that wave across my entire body. I don’t know where I’ll be next fall, if I’ll be playing football, if I’ll choose to focus on other, new interests and hobbies. But it’ll be okay.
Because I don’t feel alone anymore.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Mason
It’s cozy and calm, this little party. Despite the chaos the footballers are sowing in the backyard. The trees are frosted, the awnings slick with icicles, the chimney puffing smoke. The Morellis’ radiator works overtime on the back porch, giving my shivering legs reprieve whenever it oscillates. The mug of steaming hot cocoa and marshmallows in my hand soothes my New Year’s Eve chills.
Cameron, Anup, and Jody are trying valiantly to build a snowman, though the snow is so loose and fluffy, it’s difficult to pack. Ravi and Darius are tossing a football around, typical jocks even outside of the season. Faintly, I hear the Morelli parents talking in the kitchen as they clean up appetizer plates from earlier. It’s kind, the way they all speak to each other. I wish my dad could hear what it’s supposed to sound like, but he isolates and doesn’t like meeting people, so I’m not sure I could convince him to come around.
Though, I should still try. I was lucky enough to find someone who didn’t give up on me. Maybe I shouldn’t give up on him, either.
It’s been a few weeks since Liam’s banquet. His number is still blocked, so if he’s texting me, I’m not getting them. Cameron’s constant, lingering presence around me, anticipating trouble, helps me rest easier. I’ve been spending several nights at his house, and while it’s not permanent, it gives me peace of mind while the dust settles. Idon’t have to fear Liam tapping on my window at night to confront me about the emergency restraining order. If he’s pissed, he hasn’t taken it out on me, and that’s what matters.
Cameron heaves a giant snowball atop their “base,” then turns toward me with a toothy grin. “It’s looking great, babe,” I say with a thumbs-up.
“Damn right. Anup, give me the buttons. Time to suit him up.”
Anup snickers, fumbling within his massive parka jacket. “Shouldn’t he get a head?”
“Thisishis head.”
“So he’s just an ass and a face? No body?”
“He has a face and a body,” Cameron complains. “Just no ass.”
“Then how is he going to have gay sex?”
“…Okay, he has an ass and a head. No body.”
