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Prologue
Tatum
Two years ago
He was gone.
For two years, I gave him everything.
I had no friends, life, or worth outside the future he and I created. We stayed up late every night, telling each other stories of how we envisioned our future. Graduate college, land our dream jobs, buy a house, and have kids.
But once graduation day came, I was reminded that despite all our plans, there was one thing he loved more than me. One thing for which he was willing to let me go, given the chance, and when that day came, it was as if we had never dreamt at all.
Our stories weren't fantasies of the future; they were fiction in a fairytale that didn't have a happily ever after. He left me, breaking up and choosing the game he coveted, hoping to live his ultimate dream.
Professional soccer.
In a desperate attempt, I pleaded with him that we could still be together. He was headed to play for League One in Lexington, but it wasn't like he would be there forever. Eventually, Miami would call him home again, returning him to play for the Inferno as their hometown hero.
"All I will be focusing on is soccer," he explained. "It's better if you aren't waiting for me."
"But what about when you come back?"
"There is nothing I want to return to Miami for."
Dammit, his words hurt. What was so bad about Miami? After all, it was where I was. Where I would always be. He had family issues, but couldn't he overcome that to come back to me?
"The only way I will return to Miami is for the Inferno or the university."
They were words I had to accept, so I held my head up and walked away from him. My brother held his arms out for me when I got home, and he cried with me almost as hard as I did.
Hunter was gone.
I had to move on.
"Leaving you just proves how weak he is," Colton tried to reassure me. "He doesn't deserve you anyway."
"I understand why he wants to leave, but why wouldn't he want to stay together?"
"Like I said," Colton huffed. "He's weak."
* * *
One month ago
He was back.
I created a new life for myself in the two years since he'd left. Instead of telling stories with him, I told them to myself about the things I wanted and needed to feel fulfilled in my life. I worked hard at a job I loved, proving that I was capable of more than I thought I was.
But my feelings for him seemed to resurface the second he called. It was as if no time had passed, and he was calling to see how my day went.
He asked for a second chance to rekindle what he regretted about leaving. I hadn't moved on, but I wasn't sure I wanted him back either.
"The only way you will know is if you try," my brother suggested. "See where it goes. You lose nothing if it doesn't work again."
Maybe he was right.
Ultimately, I may end up with my heart in pieces again, but love was worth the risk.
