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“What extra time?” Something about his tone makes my stomach sink.
“I left the Stallions.”
My mouth tries to form words that won’t come. He said he’d do that if I asked him to, but I didn’t ask.
“Wha…what?”
“I quit.” He takes another swing, the resulting crack echoes through the house as he spins to face me and extends the hammer. “Want a turn?”
“Why?”
“Because it’s oddly satisfying.”
“No, I mean why did you quit? I didn’t ask you to.” My eyes fill with tears, wondering what drove him to this choice, and what it means for us.
“I know.” He meets my gaze.
“Was it because of me?”
“It was because of us,” he answers softly.
“I don’t understand.” I shake my head, the tears still threatening to fall.
“You were right about the whole stepsister thing. The GM thought dating you would cause a scandal.” His whole body seems to deflate, leaving no doubt how much this hurts him. What I don’t know is whether it’s the idea of leaving the game, or the reaction of the GM that hurts him more.
“So, you quit?”
He nods.
My heart flutters inside my chest. I want him to pick me, it’s all I’ve ever wanted, but not if there’s a chance he’ll resent me for it later. I need him to be sure.
“Football is your life, Wes. And we aren’t even dating. Is this what you want?”
“Football is a job. I want you to be my life.” His steady gaze begs me to believe him.
“It’s been eight years. How can you be sure you feel the same way now as back then?” I trap my lips between my teeth and hold my breath.
“Do you know why I fell in love with you?” He answers my question with one of his own.
I shake my head.
“In a world full of superficial people, you were real. Your dad tried to spoil you, but you weren’t spoiled. His life put you in the spotlight but that didn’t change who you were. You were witty and honest and brave.”
“I’m not brave,” I interrupt. “I’ve been trying not to feel anything for eight years because I was afraid to feel.”
“You’re here now, with me, but that scares you. If that isn’t brave, I don’t know what is. The things I love about you haven’t changed. My feelings haven’t changed.” His eyes are shiny with tears, and that sight erases all my doubts about whether I can trust what’s happening between us.
I take a tentative step toward him, reaching my arm out to close the distance between us. That’s all the confirmation he needs. With his long stride he reaches me in three steps, pulling me to him and wrapping his arms around my waist.
“You remember what I told you before? About kissing you?” His chest heaves as he waits for my answer.
“That you wouldn’t do it again until I was sure I’d never want to kiss anyone else,” I whisper.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
I’m expecting him to devour me, to make up for years of separation. Instead, he slowly licks his lips, never taking his eyes off mine. Then he cups my face in his hand and strokes my cheek with his thumb.
