I glance at him. "Damn, you psychic now?"
He smirks. "Nah, just paying attention. You're the top wideout this year. Those teams need a guy like you bad."
I adjust my gloves. "Yeah. I know."
Carter studies me. "But you're not hyped about it."
The easy response would be to brush it off, say I'm focused on the next game, but Carter doesn't buy bullshit.
"It's…a lot," I admit. "Just thinking about everything."
His expression shifts, knowing. "By 'everything,' you mean a certain brunette?"
I shoot him a look. "Not everything is about a girl, Hayes."
He laughs. "When a dude looks that miserable about getting drafted first round, there's usually a woman involved."
I clench my jaw, picking up pace, but Carter keeps up.
"Look, man," he continues, "I get it. Young love, best friends, deep feelings. But you really gonna give up everything you’ve worked for based solely on the chance of her wanting you back?"
The words hit harder than I want. "Nobody said anything about giving anything up."
"Okay, but would you change your plans for her? If some Midwest team comes knocking—hell, even a local team—you gonna pick based on that?"
My stomach twists. I hate that I don't have an answer.
"I'm not saying she isn't important, but this is the dream, Jax. You don't change the dream for a girl. Not unless you wanna be the guy sitting at a bar ten years from now, watching the draft and wondering why you hesitated."
I let his words settle, finishing the sprint with eyes locked ahead, chest burning from more than just exertion.
I don't answer him because I don't need to.
Yeah, this is the dream. Yeah, teams on the other side of the country want me.
But what Carter—what everyone—doesn't understand is, she isn't just some girl.
Madison isn't a distraction. She's not a mistake. She's not a reason to hesitate.
She'sthereason.
For everything.
Why I transferred here. Why I'm playing the best football of my life so far. Why, even with the biggest opportunity ahead of me, all I can think about is her.
She might believe she's too broken to let someone in, but I know better. I've always known better.
She isn't broken.
She just needs someone who refuses to let her believe that lie.
12
MADISON
The crisp morning air bites at my skin as I tuck my hands deeper into the sleeves of my sweatshirt. It's oversized, like most of my clothes, hanging loose over my frame, swallowing me whole. Paired with black leggings and my worn-in Birkenstocks, it's the perfect outfit to blend in, to shrink into the background, to avoid attention.
But no matter how much fabric I hide behind, there's one person I can never seem to disappear from.
