The Quarterback’s First Love – Episode 18
Veronica’s threat lingered after the parking lot emptied. Cameron wanted details, but Maddie could only repeat the words. He dismissed Veronica’s ability to take him from her, then caught himself. “Not that you’ve agreed to be mine,” he added. Maddie appreciated the correction.
She held up his jersey. “The press conference was completely insane.” Cameron watched her carefully. “The question was real.” Maddie tried to joke that a football prodigy could not genuinely be in love with a nobody cheerleader who lived in her car.
His expression hardened. “You are not a nobody. And your address doesn’t determine your worth.” Maddie knew the principle but struggled to feel it. Years of surviving on little had taught her to see every generous offer as evidence of her inadequacy.
“Why me?” she asked. “Not the eight-year-old you remember. Me, now.” Cameron considered before answering. He spoke of her courage at the bar, her refusal to let Brett turn poverty into shame, and the compassion that survived everything done to her. None of his reasons depended on nostalgia.
Maddie’s resistance softened. “I can’t promise forever because we had a promise as children.” Cameron nodded. “Then promise me coffee. Maybe dinner. Let me earn the next thing after that.” The modest request made room where his public declaration had created pressure.
“Coffee,” she agreed. Cameron grinned with such open relief that she laughed. He held out his little finger, reviving their childhood method of sealing serious agreements. Maddie linked hers through it.
The moment nearly became another kiss, but her open trunk reminded them of the immediate problem. Cameron offered a guest room at the apartment he had leased near Central. Maddie refused automatically, then saw disappointment replace his argument.
“Let me show it to you before you decide,” he said. “No cameras, no dramatic jersey, no pressure.” Since her alternatives were a shelter or the car, viewing a safe room did not require accepting it. Maddie agreed.
Cameron loaded her belongings into his SUV, refusing to let journalists photograph the process. During the drive, Maddie watched familiar campus streets give way to a quiet neighborhood of modern townhouses. She expected an athlete’s temporary rental; the spacious, sunlit apartment looked more like a home.
“You call this not much?” she asked after stepping inside. Cameron rubbed the back of his neck. “It was the best I could find on short notice.” The understatement was so ridiculous that she stared at him until he laughed.
He showed her a private bedroom and bathroom at the opposite end of the hall from his. New bedding waited unopened, and the closet stood empty. Cameron had prepared the space before knowing whether she would come, a fact both touching and alarming.
Standing in the doorway triggered another memory. Young Jack had drawn a crooked house in crayon and promised that when they grew up, he would buy one large enough for separate rooms—his blue, hers pink—with an ice-cream machine in the kitchen.
“Because I promised you a home,” Cameron said quietly. Maddie turned, realizing he remembered the same afternoon. “And now I can finally give you one.” The sincerity in his voice threatened her carefully rebuilt independence.
“I can’t accept a house as repayment for the accident.” Cameron flinched. “That’s not what this is.” He explained that he needed a roommate, traveled often, and hated returning to empty rooms. The practical reasons were transparently incomplete, but they offered her dignity.
Maddie asked about rent. Cameron tried to waive it, but she insisted on contributing once she found work. They negotiated an amount she could manage and household responsibilities he pretended were equal compensation. The conversation transformed charity into an agreement.
“What will people say?” she asked. Cameron gestured toward their trending names on his phone. “According to the internet, we’re already college football’s answer to a celebrity power couple.” Maddie groaned and covered her face.
He lowered her hands. “Every single thing I’ve seen you do has been for someone else. Choose something that helps you.” The request reached deeper than his promises. Moving in could be an act of self-preservation rather than dependence if she defined the terms.
Maddie walked into the guest room and set the silver football on the dresser. “I’ll stay for one month. Separate rooms, agreed rent, and no assuming that makes me your girlfriend.” Cameron accepted every condition with exaggerated solemnity.
They shook hands, but neither released immediately. Cameron started to tell her that their relationship had never begun at the stadium. Now that she remembered, he wanted to show her letters and photographs proving how hard he had searched.
Before he could continue, someone pounded on the front door and called, “Cam-Cam!” Cameron went pale. Only one person used that nickname. His adoptive mother had arrived without warning, and Veronica’s threat suddenly made terrible sense.