To tell the truth, I wasn’t putting any weight on my knee, but he didn’t need to know that.
“I’m getting there. I should be ready to go for the season.”
“I wanted to talk to you about that.” Mav’s jaw clenched.
Bollocks. Here it came. They were gonna get rid of me. I could tell by the look in his eyes, the nerves flashing in his expression. I was surprised he was gonna tell me to my face instead of just arranging the deal and sending it to my agent, who had also been calling me every day.
I swallowed past the thick lump in my throat. “Excuse me, I better see if Becca needs any help.”
Hobbling across the deck, I reached my wife, and I couldn’t help but smile as Quinn turned her gaze on me and let out a squeal. Clara placed her hand on her already swelling middle.
“She seems to really like her uncle Taylor,” Clara said.
“Kids just love him.” Becca beamed.
“I have no idea why.”
“Probably because you’re a big kid at heart.”
Was that a good thing? I wasn’t sure.
“How are you feeling?” Becca asked. “Do you need a chair?”
She grabbed my shoulder, but I shrugged out of her hold. “I’m fine, woman. Leave me alone. Stop fawning all over me.”
The look on her face made me feel like an arsehole. And I was. All she was trying to do was help me because I was hurt.
“I just came over to ask if you need any help.”
“No, I got it. I know how to walk.”
I was fucking all this up, and I knew it, but as the night wore on and I watched her with her family—grateful as hell that Scarlett did not show up—something hit me that I hadn’t wanted to admit until now. Becca Barnes didn’t need me for anything. In fact, all I was going to do was break her heart. If I got traded, she’d have to give it everything up to stay with me, and then she’d resent me forever. There was only one thing I could do: separate myself from the woman I loved so she could have the success she truly deserved.
I’d let her go before we got in so deep there was no way we could get out, and eventually, she’d move on. I’d be nothing but a blip on her radar, a mistake she made one summer. These people loved her. They’d take care of her. They’d give her everything she needed, all the support, and I would move on, start over on another team, play for five more years if I was lucky. And then move home to Scotland, as far away as I could get from the woman who owned my heart. Because loving her meant letting her go.
BECCA
Three weeks into Taylor’s recovery, he had only pulled away from me more. He didn’t want my help. He didn’t want to talk to me, and every time he got a phone call from his agent or anybody on the team, he shut down. Something bad was happening with him, and I couldn’t tell what it was. He was slipping through my fingers, and I had no way of stopping it.
I stared down at the macarons I was busy filling, a custom order for a wedding that I’d gotten up extra early to work on because there was nothing worse than a stale macaron. It was a travesty when it happened. I had hoped that focusing on creating this delicate confection would help me stop obsessing over how to help my husband. So far, nothing had done the trick.
The back door opened, and Scarlett trudged inside, her hair haphazardly thrown on top of her head in a messy bun, cheeks puffy and flushed, skin coated in a sheen of sweat, even though it was still chilly in the morning.
“You look like hell,” I said before swirling a perfect amount of filling onto the next cookie.
“Gee, thanks. Not all of us can roll out of bed and look fresh as a fucking daisy.”
“God, you’re cranky. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m just not feeling good.”
“You should go to the doctor. You’ve been fighting this for a long time.”
“I’m not sick. I told you, I’m fine.”
“Still. It could be something more serious.”
“I know. I’ll make an appointment.”