The Wrong Quarterback (The Wrong Player #1)

Chapter 34

CHAPTER 34

PARKER

I moved down the winding paths of the cemetery, my hands shoved deep in my pockets, every step feeling heavier than the last. The place was quiet, like the silence here was something alive, pressing down over the rows of headstones around me. No sounds, no distractions—just a hushed kind of stillness that made me feel like I was walking into something sacred.

I’d been here once before with Casey, but this was my first time alone. I still found Ben’s grave easily, though, the location embedded in my mind.

When I reached his grave, I paused, looking down at the headstone. Simple, barely more than his name and the dates. It looked plain, not nearly enough to capture who he was to Casey. I crouched down, brushing a bit of dirt from the edge, running my fingers over the rough stone. “Hey, Ben,” I started, my voice rough, feeling a strange mix of nerves settle over me. I hadn’t talked when I was here with Casey, I’d just been there as emotional support.

It felt strange now talking to someone I’d never met, but I kept going. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but…I guess I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Parker.”

I rubbed a hand over the back of my neck, feeling the importance that this moment carried. “Look, I know you probably would’ve had a lot to say about me being with her,” I admitted, managing a small, wry smile. “And I don’t blame you. But I love her, man. More than I can even wrap my head around. She’s…everything.”

I let out a shaky breath, my gaze dropping to the name etched in stone. It hit me then—everything he’d missed, everything he’d left behind. “I’m sorry we never met. I wish we had.” I paused, letting the silence settle before going on. “But I want you to know…you can trust me with her heart. With her life. She’s safe with me.”

The words hung thick in the air, like a physical representation of everything I’d been carrying. I stared at the headstone, as if expecting an answer. “I’m going to take care of her. I promise. You don’t have to worry—your sister’s going to be okay.”

I shifted, digging my hands into my pockets, the words feeling heavy on my tongue. “Ben…I know what it’s like to miss someone after they’re gone,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “Hell, I know what it’s like to miss someone even when they’re still walking the Earth. To carry around that ache, day in and day out. It never really leaves you.”

I swallowed, letting that truth sink in, feeling the raw edge of it in my chest. “But I’m going to be there for her. I’ll help her keep you with her, always. She’s never going to have to carry that alone.” My voice cracked, but I forced myself to keep going, to make the promise as real as I could. “I’ll make sure she remembers every story, every memory, every bit of you. I’ll keep your memory alive with her.”

I took a shaky breath, the truth in those words grounding me, a vow that felt more real than anything I’d said in a long time.

A gust of wind suddenly blew across my skin.

And somehow, standing there, I felt that Ben understood.

The drive to my mom’s house felt as heavy as what I’d just left in the cemetery. Every mile stretching with the enormity of what I was going there to say. And when I walked in, it was obvious that nothing had improved since her stint in the hospital.

I made my way to her room, finding her curled up in bed, covers pulled to her chin, her face pale against the pillow. She was still eating nothing, and now she didn’t even have the energy to get out of bed.

She barely stirred when I came in, and a burst of anger flooded through me. Taking a deep breath, I tried to remind myself that I didn’t know what it was like, to lose my soulmate.

I tried to remind myself that I’d probably be worse than my mom. I’d probably be trying to follow Casey as soon as I could.

I tried to remind myself of all that as I sat on the edge of the bed. The springs creaked beneath me, and I reached for her hand, covering it with mine. Her skin was cool, fragile, like she was slipping away even as I held on.

I knew what I needed to do.

“Mom,” I started, my voice low as I tried to steady myself. “I know you’re tired. And as much as we want you to fight…we can’t do that for you anymore. Not if you don’t want to.”

She didn’t move, but her fingers twitched just slightly, like she could hear me.

“I brought Casey to meet you at the hospital,” I continued, my voice softening. “This girl, Mom, she’s everything. And I’m gonna marry her. Soon. We’re going to have kids, the whole thing. I’d love for you to be there for that. I’d love for you to see me play in the NFL, to watch me build a family, to be a part of it.” I stopped, feeling the words catch in my throat, the honesty feeling like heartbreak.

“But I get it, if you’re done. If it’s too much. You’ve been gone for so long, and I don’t know how to reach you anymore. If you really don’t want to be here…if you’re ready to go…I just…I just need you to know I’m letting go if that’s what you want.”

I waited, searching her face for any sign that she was still there, that the mom I used to know was somewhere under the surface. But she stayed silent, unmoving, and that heavy ache in my chest grew. I squeezed her hand gently, trying to make my peace with it, and stood up.

“Take care, Mom. I love you,” I whispered, patting her hand one last time before I turned and walked out, leaving the house that had long ago stopped feeling like home behind me.

On the drive back to school, my mind was a mess of memories and hope tangled up with grief. And then my phone chimed, breaking through my thoughts. I glanced at the screen, and the words hit me like a punch:

Mom: I’m ready to get help.

I pulled over to the side of the road, the message blurring as the tears came, hot and unrelenting. The burden I’d been carrying for so long finally cracked open, and for the first time in years, I truly let myself cry.