Page 132 of Keep Me Never
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 allthe 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?”
