Page 98 of Scoring Eden

“She’s right.” I take a deep breath, feeling words swell within me that I’ve never shared with anyone other than my therapist. “My mom and dad aren’t alive anymore, so when I really need a hug from them, I give one to Pig, and I know they’re hugging me back.”

Macon blinks big wide eyes up at me. “You don’t have parents anymore?”

I clear my throat, dropping my gaze to the pig in my lap. “I do. After my mom and dad died, Brynn and I were adopted by new parents.”

His mouth drops open. “You were adopted? That’s so cool. That’s like what happens at the Poppy Flowers home I’m doing the fundraiser for at school.”

“Poppy Fields,” I correct him with a smile. “And yeah, Brynn and I actually stayed there for a while.”

His eyes widen to such a degree I’m surprised they don’t fall right out of his head. “What? Holy shit.”

“Don’t let your mom hear you say that.”

Maybe Dr. Sharma was right. There’s something to be said for talking about things that hurt. I mean, I know she probably wouldn’t have recommended a child for me to have this conversation with for the first time, but his innocence makes it easier. There’s no judgment or pity from him. He’s not asking me difficult questions or giving me stupid platitudes, like “They’re in a better place now.”

If anything, he’s a little overexcited about the information I’m telling him, too young to understand the relentless storm clouds it’s cast over every aspect of my life since I was his age.

And maybe there’s something in that too. That he’s the same age I was when it happened. Because it’s almost like I’m talking to myself, the boy I was back then, before trauma twisted me into someone else.

“Now we’ve gotta do something really cool for the fundraiser,” he declares so loudly I’m sure Eden can hear it all the way down the hall.

“Have you had any more ideas about it?”

“No.” He deflates. “My friend Ben is doing a livestream on Twitch. I wish I could do something like that.”

My eyebrow lifts. “How old is your friend Ben?”

“Nine.”

“Isn’t he a bit young to be on Twitch?”

“He’s gonna use his big brother’s account, who has, like, thousands of followers, so Ben is definitely gonna win.” He draws out the word thousands with a small scrunch to his brow. “Oh, man, I really wanted to be principal for the day.”

“Hey, we’ll come up with something, don’t worry.”

Like cutting my hair.

Damn Roman for putting that idea into my head. Not that I would auction it on eBay, like he suggested, but if I were to do it after a game in front of seventy thousand fans and livestream it on social media with a donation link, I can’t deny that it would probably reap some pretty solid results.

But I don’t think I could go through with it.

My hair is part of my identity. The guys love to give me shit for it, but I’m as famous for it as I am my right foot. It also makes me money. I can’t count the number of sponsorship deals I’ve landed with hair care brands, and some of them have been pretty damn lucrative.

Am I really thinking about cutting it all off to help a kid out with a school project?

Yeah, I guess I am.

Because he’s not just any kid. He’s the coolest little dude I know.

“I’ll help you.”

He bounces about three feet into the air. “Oh my god, really?”

Ugh, I can’t believe I’m doing this. “Remember when everyone came over for dinner, and Roman suggested I cut off my hair?”

His mouth falls open. “But you love your hair.”

“Yeah.” I nod. “But that’s exactly why it’ll work.”