DREW LEANED AGAINST THE WINDOW LEDGE AND watched Carolina get into the taxi and drive away.

He was such a dick. It would have cost him nothing but a few hours of his time to go ahead and do the advertising campaign. They’d already run through it once. He knew what to expect. And then it would be over, she’d have what she wanted, and he could go on and do his thing.

But hell, what would he promote for her? Certainly not a damn winning image. He wasn’t a winner. Not this season, anyway. She should go in another direction, get some famous model whose face would sell millions for her.

He sat on his sofa and dropped his chin to his chest. He felt washed-up and finished, like a loser. And it had been a long damn time since he’d felt that way. In college, when he’d struggled it had taken a kick in the ass from Bill Briscoe to remind him why he was there in the first place, and all the things that were worth fighting for.

Bill would kick his ass right now if he could see him sitting here in the dark feeling sorry for himself, when he should be trying to figure out what the problem was with his play, or with his team’s play.

Instead, he was blaming the woman he cared about. But hell, he was grasping here, and what else did he have to grab on to other than Carolina as an excuse for everything that was f**ked up so far about this season?

Something else Bill would likely kick his ass over.

His stomach tightened at the thought of not having Bill around to seek advice from.

He grabbed his phone and dialed Ginger Briscoe’s cell. She answered on the third ring.

“Well, hello, Drew. How are you?”

“I’m doing fine, Miss Ginger. And you?”

“Hanging in there.”

He didn’t want to ask the question, but he had to know. “How’s Bill doing?”

“Hang on just a second, Drew.”

He heard rustling, then a door closing.

“He’s sleeping right now, so I didn’t want my talkin’ to wake him up. It’s not good, Drew. Doctors think the next week or two at most.”

Drew took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Miss Ginger.”

“Nothin’ for you to be sorry about. It’s just his time. The nice doctors down here have done all they could but there’s nothin’ left to be done. It’s in God’s hands now.”

“Is he in any pain?”

“No, honey. They’ve got him medicated. He sleeps a lot, smiles at me a lot, and he and Haven and I are just sittin’ around laughin’ about all the good times we had with all you boys.”

Drew swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I’m going to head down there tomorrow.”

“You do that. I know he’d love to see you before . . . well, he’d love to see you.”

“I’ll talk to you soon, Miss Ginger.”

Drew hung up and got online, booked a flight to Houston, then called his coach, letting him know he’d miss practice tomorrow for family business. He explained the situation, which his coach said was fine with him. Drew promised he’d be back the next day.

It was important to see Bill, to be able to say good-bye while Bill was still around.

The next morning he hopped a flight to Houston and rented a car, then drove to MD Anderson. He sat in the parking lot for fifteen minutes before he gathered up the courage to get out of the damn car.

He needed to see Bill. He wanted to see him, but he didn’t know if he could handle this.

He loved his parents, loved his dad, but Bill had always been like a second father to him. He’d told all his deepest, darkest fears to Bill Briscoe. Bill had seen him at his absolute worst, and had pushed him along when he thought he couldn’t become the man—the athlete—that he needed to be.

And as he stood in the lobby in front of the elevators, Drew needed to be that man right now.

He sucked in a breath and pushed the elevator button, taking it up to the floor where Bill’s room was. He walked down the long hallway, the smell of medicine, illness, and utter hopelessness surrounding him like a dark cloud. By the time he got to Bill’s room, he knew if he didn’t shake this off, he was going to crumble when he walked in.

Fortunately, Haven opened the door, her gorgeous face a sweet balm to his tortured senses. Her eyes widened and she threw her arms around him.

“Drew. I’m so glad to see you.”

He put his arms around her and hugged her tight. “Haven. I’m glad to see you, too.”

She shut the door behind her. “Dad will be really happy you came. Gray came by last week. So did Garrett. Trevor was here the other day. I swear a day doesn’t go by that one of the college boys doesn’t show up. So many of you stopping by has meant so much to him.”

“He means everything to all of us. I hope he knows that.”

She squeezed his hand. “He knows.”

“Is he awake or is this a bad time?”

“He’s in and out a lot because he’s heavily medicated. But come on in.” She pushed the door open and led him inside.

“Look who I found loitering outside in the hall.”

Ginger was sitting in a chair next to the bed, reading a book. “Drew.” With a wide smile on her face, she got up and gave him a tight hug.

He hugged her back, closing his eyes as he held on to her. “Miss Ginger.”

“Thank you for coming,” she whispered before letting go of him. “Bill, are you awake? Drew’s here.”

Drew turned his attention to Bill, who had lost even more weight since the last time Drew had seen him. He looked frail lying there on the bed, his skin sallow and seemingly hanging over his bones. Bill had always been so vital, so robust and full of life. To see him lying there like that was like a knife in his stomach. Drew had to force a smile on his face as Ginger moved aside so he could get closer to Bill.

Bill’s eyes were closed, so he grasped his hand. “Hey, Bill.”

Bill opened his eyes partway, looking confused.

“It’s me. Drew.”

He blinked a few times. “Drew? Hey, Drew.” Then he smiled. “Hey . . . it’s Drew Hogan.”

“Mom, how about you and me head downstairs for a quick bite to eat,” Haven said. “Do you mind, Drew?”

“Not at all. I’ll be here awhile.”

After Haven and Ginger left the room, Drew turned back to Bill. “How are you feeling?”

Bill was a little more alert now and pressed the button to lift up the head of his bed. “Eh. I’m dying. It sucks.”

Drew laughed. He’d always loved Bill’s sense of humor. “Yeah, man. It does. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing we can do about it. But they’re giving me great drugs, I’m not in any pain, and hell, I feel like a celebrity. People are popping in here all the time. Before long the paparazzi will be showing up thinking George Clooney is staying here.”

“Then you’ll end up on the cover of the Enquirer.”

“Wouldn’t that be some shit? I hope Ginger combs my hair before they do the cover shoot.”

Drew hadn’t expected this. He didn’t know what he had expected, but not the old Bill. He was glad he’d made the trip. He pulled up the chair and took a seat.

“How’s the season going?” Bill asked, obviously wanting to talk about anything but his health.

“It’s shit. We’re great at home, but can’t win a game on the road.”

“So . . . why is that?”

“Hell if I know, Bill. We’re trying to figure it out. Our goalie is working with an injury, but we’re not laying all the blame on him. We can’t put decent offense together on the road, either. Our road statistics are terrible. It’s like we’re on vacation.”

Bill laced his hands over his stomach. “Maybe you’re just trying too hard. Lose a couple games on the road, you get a mental block, and the first thing you all think is that you can’t win an away game. Then it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.” Bill paused, letting the oxygen he was attached to fuel his lungs. “You tense up and make a lot of mistakes you wouldn’t normally make. Especially if you’re still good at home. That means the mechanics of your game are sound. Other than your goalie injury, it’s obvious your team is solid, right?”

“Yeah.”

“No trauma or drama otherwise, with coaching or teammates?”

“None at all.”

“Then just play the same game you play at home. You’ll win eventually. Stop acting as if it’s the last game of the season and it all comes down to that one game. Just . . . play.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“Because it is. It’s not life and death, you know.”

Drew cringed and gently squeezed Bill’s frail hand. “You’re right. It’s not.”

“Hey, I wasn’t looking for sympathy here, kid.”

“I know. But you’re right. We’re stuck in our heads in the worst way.”

“Then get out of your heads and just play every game like it’s just a game. Because that’s all it is—just a game. The one you love. I think you forgot how to love it.”

“Right again.”

Bill offered up a grin. “I’m always right, kid.”

Drew clasped Bill’s hands in both of his. “I love you, old man.”

“I know. Love you, too. And don’t think that after I’m gone I won’t still be watching over you, because I will. Be happy.”

Drew’s eyes filled with tears. “I hope you will.”

He didn’t want to think about how much he was going to miss Bill. They’d talked on the phone often. Bill would call him after his games and either congratulate him or chew him out when he screwed something up. In college, he’d kept him on the straight and narrow. After, they’d become lifelong friends. But he’d always counted on Bill to give him the best advice.

What was he going to do without him?

Bill drifted off to sleep and Drew sat there with him until Ginger and Haven came back in.

“Did you two get a chance to visit?” Ginger asked.

“Yeah, we did. A nice long chat.”

Ginger put her arm around him. “I’m glad.”

“I guess I should go.”

“I’ll walk you out.”

Haven gave him a hug and Ginger stepped outside with him to walk him to the elevator.

“He’s so strong, Miss Ginger.”

She nodded. “He has his moments. He’s fightin’ it to the very end. But he’s very aware that this is the end. He’s accepted it.”

“Well, he has you by his side, and I’ve never known a stronger woman.”

Tears glimmered in her eyes. “We’ll be fine. Now you go home and don’t worry about us.”

He hugged her. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, honey.”

When he pulled back, he took her hands. “If you need anything, call me.”

“I will.”

He started to leave, but then found himself unable to. He ended up sitting in a chair by the lobby. That’s where Haven found him a half hour later.

“Hey. I didn’t know you were still here.”

He lifted his gaze to hers. “I can’t go yet.”

She nodded and took a seat next to him. “I know the feeling. I should get back to work. Mom said she’d call me when—well when it gets closer. But these are his last days. I can’t not be here.”

He took her hand and squeezed it between his. “I’m sorry, Haven.”

“Me, too. Thanks for coming. It’s meant a lot to my mom and me having you and all the guys come by. And it’s been wonderful for Dad to know that he’s that important to all of you that you’d take the time out of what I know are busy lives for all of you.”