“Boss, unless you’re trying to tell me you always sleep in the fetal position, I’m gonna need you to tell me the truth.”
I roll over to face him, but only because his hand gently does the rolling for me. “I could say the same thing to you. What happened tonight?”
His sigh has a physical weight to it. “I got a call. From Otto.”
“What happened?” I ask, my own pain taking a back seat to whatever Sean’s going through.
“He invited me to an eval camp. If it goes well, Otto said they’ll offer me a three-year contract.”
“Three years? Sean, that’s amazing!” I sit up just enough so I can scoot over and throw my arms around him.
Except, he’s barely moving. He pats my arm, but he’s not reciprocating.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. It’s just a lot to process.”
“What is?”
“The chance to be chosen. Not just as a backup, but for real.”
“That’s a good thing! They see so much in you!”
“What about … what about us?”
My heart trips over the way he saysus. And that poor, battered heart stays on the ground for a minute too long, not ready to get up yet.
What about us?
Was it a question? A regret? Was he offering me a choice or backing away from one?
How do I even respond?
“Don’t worry about us,” I tell him. “We have all year to figure it out.”
All year.
That’s what we agreed to. That’s all I have the right to ask for. Who cares that I want more years, maybeallthe years? This isn’t about what I want right now. It’s about Sean. What he deserves.
“All year, huh?” he echoes, though his words sound a lot more final than mine.
I go the positive route. “Yes! This isn’t the time to worry about anything except this evaluation. When does it start?”
“Monday. It goes for three weeks.”
I’m glad it’s too dark for him to make out just how fake my smile is. “Perfect. Monday will be perfect. We’ll spend the weekend packing and making a plan.”
“A plan for what?”
He doesn’t sound bitter, but genuinely curious. But what does he mean by asking that? Is he wondering why I would want to make a plan at all?
“A plan for the next three weeks,” I say. “And whatever you want after that.”
“What if they want to sign me? You’d be okay with me being gone eight or nine months of the year?”
Nine months?“Wow. Yes! Of course!”
My mind fast forwards to lonely breakfasts and holidays in hotel rooms, if he can do holidays at all. I think about watching him on TV, about being on a field hundreds of miles away, watching a team—my team—and wishing I were watching him.
