Page 113 of The Love Playbook

“Um, Mom, this is Chris,” I say, avoiding the use of his last name, because I have no doubt my mother would recognize it. “He’s my . . .” I lock eyes with him as he steps forward, a crooked grin on his full lips as he reaches a hand out, taking my mother’s frail one in his, and shaking it.

“I’m her boyfriend. It’s new, so she’s just a little shy about saying so.” He winks at her, and I swear to god, she blushes. “Nice to meet you.”

My entire body swells, warming toward him.

“You look familiar,” she says, frowning.

The warmth vanishes, replaced with the cold hard pit of dread in my stomach that he might mention who his mother is.

“It’s probably just my classic good looks.” Chris angles his face so my mother can take a closer look. “Also, you might’ve seen me on TV.”

At that, Mom’s eyes widen. “TV?”

Chris nods. “I’m a running back at Ann Arbor.”

“A football man,” Mom confirms, glancing back at me, as if gauging my reaction to everything he just said.

“Um, Mom, I need a minute to talk to Chris,” I say, afraid he might spill the beans, “but as soon as they bring your discharge papers, I’ll take you home.”

“Okay, sure.” She offers him a wobbly smile that hurts my heart. “Nice meeting you, Chris.”

“I’m sure it won’t be the last time,” he says before he follows me from the room.

Once we’re out in the hallway, I close the door and turn to him with a look of defeat. “I’m sorry about all of this.”

Chris steps closer and places a finger over my lips. “What did I tell you about apologizing?”

With a sigh, I lean into his hand, a puppy desperate for pets. “I probably need to go home with my mother. I can’t leave her alone tonight. And I guess I need to start thinking about what I’m going to do, maybe set up a place for her to sleep downstairs until I can figure things out.” My gaze shifts, glancing anywhere but at him while my mind races.

“Hey, look at me.” He cups the side of my face, tipping my head toward him. “She’s going to be fine. It’s just a torn ligament.”

I deflate, wanting to believe him, but even if my mother is okay, what about me? How am I ever going to live my life if I’m constantly having to fix her?

I press a hand to my forehead. “How am I going to do this? How will I go to classes and hold down the fort for her here at home? Between grocery shopping, physical therapy,appointments with her shrink, the doctor, and interviews for a new job?if I can even get her interviews?I’ll be running to Lockport every five seconds. I can’t even begin to imagine how I’ll make this work.”

“We’ll figure this out, Lettie. I’ll help you. We can have groceries delivered and hire an Uber driver or get some of my family to pitch in.”

Oh, yeah. I’m sure Mom would love that. The family of her ex-husband’s fiancée taking her to see her shrink so she can unload about said failed relationship and his new marriage.

“The point is, you don’t have to do it all alone,” he adds.

I shake my head, hating this for him. His family is normal and sweet and stable, everything mine is not. “Chris?”

“Look, I’ll stay with you tonight. We’ll make sure she’s okay, and we’ll figure out what comes next. You don’t have to carry all of it.”

I blink back the moisture building in my eyes, refusing to cry because as much as I hate this for myself, this isn’t his burden to carry. He shouldn’t have to deal with any of this. Instead, he should be back on campus partying or drinking a beer or hanging with the guys, not dealing with my shit.

But there’s also another part of me?an irrefutable piece of me?that’s melting inside at the prospect of having someone I can rely on, someone who cares enough to help me figure this out. Because, until this very moment, I don’t think I realized just how much I’d been carrying. Hearing him say those things and knowing he means them is like a balm to my battered soul.

“You’ll stay with me?” I whisper, more than a little afraid this thing I have with Chris will vanish just as quickly as it started.

“Of course.” He gives my hands a squeeze. “I’m here for you, always.”

I sigh and step forward, leaning my head over his shoulder as the weight from mine lifts. “You mean as my boyfriend?” I ask,peering up at him with a small grin. “Since when did we put a label on us?”

Chris chuckles. “I told you from the beginning you were mine. You just didn’t wanna hear it. Stubborn little Lettie,” he says, brushing the hair from my face.

A laugh abruptly sprouts inside my chest. “Thank you, Chris.”