“I’m not going to Denver, Ryan.”
“Hold on a sec.” He spoke in a muted voice to someone before giving me his full attention. “Sorry about that, Simon. Did you change your flight? I know your first meeting isn’t until Monday, but you’re gonna want to be at the game tomorrow.”
“No, I’ll watch from home. I’m not interested in going to Denver. I’ve thought about it and—”
“Whoa! This is the end of the road, Simon. This is your final option, and it’s a good one. It’s a great organization. One of the best. You’re not gonna play in LA. You’re not really in a spot to be picky. You gotta go where the job is, and the only team that’ll take a chance on you is in fuckin’ Colorado. It’s a nice place. You’ll get used to the elevation. You’ll get used to a new team. You can hike in the off-season, maybe take up biking. And money stretches in Colorado better than in LA. You’re gonna love it. So get your ass to the airport already,” he cajoled.
“No, you don’t get it. I’m choosing not to go. I’m retiring,” I said in a steady voice.
“What the fuck? Now? Why now? They’re gonna give you the shot you want. What’s wrong? You got cold feet or something?”
“No, but I—”
“You’re nervous. I get it. Look, I’ll hold your hand if I have to. Just get your ass to the airport, Simon. Do not blow this. This is what you’ve been fucking waiting for,” he huffed, clearly exasperated.
I smiled, relishing the sudden lightness in my chest. “Not anymore. Thanks for everything, but I’m moving on.”
“You’re serious?”
“I am. Draw up whatever paperwork you need me to sign, and I’ll send it to my lawyer.”
Ryan didn’t answer for a beat. “I don’t understand. You’re finally getting what you wanted. Why would you throw it away?”
“Because it’s not what I need. I don’t want to risk another concussion, another injury, another lengthy hospital stay. I love the sport and I always will, but I want a few other things too. I need to take other chances. Later, Ryan.”
“Simon! Simon, don’t hang up.”
I hung up.
God, that felt good.
I let out a deep breath before stepping out of my BMW and glancing toward the benches and tables adjacent to the main library’s arched entrance. A cool wind blew the golden leaves across the lawn. It had just enough bite to remind California that in spite of the warm weather yesterday, it was indeed autumn. I perched on the table and checked the time on my cell. He wasn’t late. I was early. For once.
The waiting might actually kill me. How fucking ironic was that? I’d waited months to hear news I’d thought would bring me clarity and it had been there all along. He’d been there.
I reread our earlier text exchange and smiled.
Your name is Christopher. You’re a grad student and rocket scientist. Your line is, You said you had something to tell me, Simon.
I’d typed a time and location, then put my phone on silent…and hoped he’d show up. A few hours later, my heart was in my throat, my palms were sweaty, but I felt surprisingly calm for a guy who’d blown up his life in a twenty-four-hour period. And oddly hopeful too.
“Simon?”
My heart shifted back to my chest and jackhammered. So much for being calm. It wasn’t possible to play it cool when the guy who owned a piece of your heart called your name and walked toward you like it was any ordinary day of the week. It wasn’t. And in spite of Topher’s unassuming demeanor, he was no ordinary man.
I stood to greet him, stuffing my hands into the pockets of my leather jacket to keep from pushing his windblown curls from his eyes.
“Hi,” I said lamely.
“Shouldn’t you be on a plane?”
“That wasn’t your line.”
Topher furrowed his brow. “My line? Oh. Okay, but—”
“Please,” I rasped.
He pulled his cell from his pocket, adjusting his glasses as he read, “You said you had something to tell me, Simon.”
He glanced up at me expectantly and fuck—he was beautiful. Perfectly pressed, smarter than hell, quirky, kinky, kind, and…all mine. Mine.
“I’m not going to Denver.”
“But…why?”
I shrugged with faux nonchalance. “It didn’t feel right.”
“You don’t like Denver? I’ve heard it’s very nice. Cold in the winter, but—”
“Denver isn’t the problem. It was time to move on. I’m not playing football anymore. I want to say it was a difficult decision, but I think I’ve known for a while that this chapter is over. It just took me a while to admit that it might be time to think about what comes next. And then you came along and…”
“And what?”
“I realized I wasn’t waiting for a phone call. I wasn’t waiting for football. I was waiting for a sign, a direction, a reason to wake up in the morning, and a place that felt like home. I was waiting for you.”