Page 63 of What Should Have Been Ours

I shake my head as the ref blows the whistle, signaling for us to start. The game kicks off, and for a while, everything is exactly how it should be.

Wes and I are locked in, playing like it’s a professional game. The ball moves down the field, and we’re all in sync. Our team is taking the lead early on.

After a few solid plays, we huddle up.

“Alright, Cam,” Wes says, tossing the ball back and forth between his hands. “You’re going long, I’ll throw it deep. Think you still got the legs for it, old man?”

I scoff. “Trust me, I can outrun your weak arm.”

“We’ll see.”

We break, and I line up. Wes takes the snap, and I take off down the field.

I cut right, and he launches the ball.

It’s a perfect throw, spiraling straight toward me.

I track it in the air, arms outstretched, ready to catch it.

I’m halfway through the play when my heart starts hammering in my chest…too fast.

Too erratic.

I slow down, my vision blurring slightly, the world around me tilting for just a second.

I push through it, forcing my body forward. I reach for the ball—catch it—but the second it’s in my hands, I stumble.

I slow, then stop completely in the middle of the field.

The voices around me start to muffle.

My body feels hot, too hot, my skin prickling.

I exhale sharply, pressing a hand to my chest.

Wes jogs over. “Cam? What’s wrong?”

I shake my head, trying to steady myself. “Just…gimme a second.”

But even standing still, my heart doesn’t slow down.

I take another breath, blinking hard, then make my way toward the sideline, ignoring the eyes following me.

I drop onto the bench, elbows on my knees, willing my body to just calm down.

A moment later, I hear footsteps in the grass.

Then a familiar soft voice.

“Cam?”

I look up.

Gabrielle is already kneeling in front of me, concern etched onto every inch of her face.

Wes jogs over, following me, his brows furrowed. “Dude, what’s up with you?”

“I’m fine,” I say, rubbing a hand over my face.