“That’s true,” I admit, recalling those terrible early season games and my worries that I was blowing my shot at the pros.
“And you probably stressed about whether it would affect your chances in the draft,” she says, kind and thoughtful, getting me too well.
I look away, rubbing a hand along the back of my neck. “Yeah, I did.”
“And did you break it off with her?” she asks, still soft and caring.
I wince but mumble a yes.
“And did your game improve?”
Grimacing, I bite out a yes again.
I hate that yes.
Hate it so fucking much.
She draws a deep breath then reaches for my hand, squeezing it. “Would it help if maybe we took a week off? Or perhaps more? I don’t want this to get you down.”
No! God, no. Not at all.
Except…what if I’m terrible at balancing everything? What if I lost my focus? What if I can’t manage it all?
“I really don’t want to,” I say heavy and resigned because I probably should say yes. “But…”
She purses her lips. “But maybe it’s for the best?”
I grimace. Damn, she has more guts than I do.
More insight too.
No way can this be the answer. Except the evidence adds up. I thought so last night, but I didn’t want to put the clues together. Now, I don’t know what else to think.
“Maybe it is best,” I say, wishing that weren’t the answer, but fearing it is. “But what about the media tour?”
“Drew,” she says, her voice soft but her tone firm. “Maybe you’re doing too much. You say yes to everything. You do all these charity events, which is amazing. You do all these interviews. But perhaps you’re spreading yourself too thin. I can talk to Stephen, and we can find someone else. Another player. Maybe Clements.”
My shoulders relax, and I hate that I want that so much. But I do. That would be a load off.
“You wouldn’t mind?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “I’ll take care of it. You just focus on football.”
“And next week?” I’m hopeful I can see her again, but is that even fair to ask? Does that make me a fair-weather boyfriend?
No, I can’t ask her to date again next week. I need to get my shit together before I can fully commit.
“Focus on this week,” she says, echoing my thoughts, more caring than I deserve. “That’s all you should concentrate on.”
It sounds like a good plan. But it also sounds like we just put our romance on ice.
23
HIS BAD LUCK CHARM
Brooke
When I walk down the hall in the office an hour later, I get the sense that my co-workers are whispering about me again.