As soon as we’re inside and he locks the door, he’s pulling me into his chest, heartbeat thundering against mine. “You scared me.”
I lean into him for a minute, taking in his familiar scent that has haunted me for months. “What’s going on?” I manage to ask.
He hooks an arm around my waist and steers us into the living room. My legs still feel a little unreliable, so I don’t argue when he lowers me onto the couch and starts piling pillows behind my back until I am sitting straight.
“Before we get into it,” he says, stepping back enough to look at me properly, “I want to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me.”
I look at him again, noticing the weariness in his expression. His face is still as handsome as ever, but faint lines betray how exhausted he is. “Okay?” I reply cautiously.
He takes a slow breath, like he’s bracing himself. “Did you tell Sandra you were going to, uhm . . . th-that you were going to s-seduce me?”
My eyes widen immediately, my heart dropping straight into my stomach. “What? I never said that,” I blurt out, and then something clicks in my head. “Oh my God,” I whisper, dragging an arm over my face.
He reaches forward and gently removes my hand, holding it between both of his. “Hey. I’m not angry or anything. I just need to clear the air.”
“I’m guessing she’s the one that told you that.” I groan when he nods. “After you guys separated, she kind of figured out that I like you, but I didn’t comment on it. And then she made this passing comment that I could do something about my attraction to you by seducing you. I didn’t even acknowledge her or the statement.”
He gives me a small smile at that and squeezes my hand. “Thanks for explaining. I have to admit, I was furious at first, thinking maybe what happened was you messing with me, and I was foolish enough to fall in love with y?—”
“Y-you love me?” My voice wavers, and I can’t tell if it’s from fear or hope, or both.
He smiles properly this time, the kind that softens his whole face. “I’m caught off guard myself.” Then he scratches the back of his neck. “So, I kinda fucked up,” he admits, and he must see the panic on my face because he rushes to add, “but I fixed it for you.”
My heart is hammering, but I force myself to take a slow breath. “Okay?”
He starts pacing in a small circle. “When you went down on the pitch and didn’t stand up immediately, I freaked out and I ran over to help you. I left the game and asked Coach Jones to sub in the backup goalie. Let’s just say he didn’t appreciate that.” He lets out an exhale. “I got suspended for that. Then, out of nowhere, news started circulating on social media that we’re both”—he hesitates—“gay, and allegedly seeing each other, claiming some anonymous source tipped them. At first, I thought it had to be Sandra, given how angry she had been, but my cousin later found out it was a Danish guy who claimed you came on to him in Copenhagen. When I came to drag you away, he assumed we were together or something. It’s dumb if you ask me,” he explains in a rush.
I stare at him, my mouth ajar, caught somewhere between shock and disbelief. That motherfucker in Copenhagen was all over me! I know I should say something, but I’m too dumbfounded to even speak.
He takes a deep breath. “Anyway, I went back to the stadium to see Coach Jones after the game. I called my agent on the way to explain what I wanted to do. I had to release a statement because I had no idea what was going on with your team or where their head was at. So, I announced my divorce and made it clear the rumour about us being together is false, that while I have feelings for you, they were unrequited and?—”
“You did what?” I cut him off.
“Please understand, I was under immense pressure, and at the time it had seemed like the best option so it wouldn’t fall back on you.”
“No,” I say, feeling weaker than before. “That’s not what I meant. You shouldn’t have said it was one-sided. Because it isn’t.”
He stops pacing mid-step, his eyebrows pulling together. “I didn’t think?—”
“You didn’t think I’m in love with you?” I shout, a little fire returning to me. “I practically told you in Sheffield, but you rejected me,” my voice lowers on the last word.
He drops to his knees in front of me. “No, I wasn’t rejecting you, I was thinking of your future, of everything that could go wrong. But when you fell, all I could think of was how much I love you, and how it would kill me if something happened to you.”
All at once, his words feel like a punch and a balm, making my heart thunder so hard I can feel it in my throat. “I still can’t believe it,” I say. “That you love me.”
“Isn’t it obvious?” he asks and there’s that slight curve at the corner of his mouth, the one I’ve imagined more times than I can count, and it makes my stomach do a ridiculous flip.
“I mean, you did upend your life for me, but you can never be sure with men.”
He chuckles and wraps his arms around my waist. “I love you.” I hear it loud and clear even though the words are muffled against my shirt.
“Wait, are you still suspended?” The thought slices through the haze of relief and disbelief I’m feeling.
He nods. “Yeah, but I think I’ll retire. I wanted to add that to the statement, but my agent asked me to hold off until we saw how things worked out.”
“I don’t like the notion that people will think I don’t love you. I can retire too.”
“You will do no such thing.” He lifts his head up. “I did what I did so your career wouldn’t have to suffer, okay?” His eyes locks with mine, unflinching and full of conviction.
