Silence settles between us as we lose ourselves in our own thoughts for a while. The conversation tonight is heavy, but opening up to her floods me with a lightness I’ve never known before.
“Did you mean it when you said you hated football?” she asks. “The other week … at your house …”
“I don’t know. I used to love it. And a part of me still does. But when something is forced on you for years and years and you don’t have a say in the matter, sometimes that love turns into resentment.”
“Don’t let him steal that from you,” she says, hoisting herself up on her elbow to look me in the eyes. “You’re insanely gifted. Don’t throw that away because of him. If you loved football once, you can love it again.”
“Yeah, but it’s stolen everything from me,” I say, my mind going to the contract I still have yet to sign. “And now it’s going to steal you.”
Irie buries her head against my shoulder. There isn’t anything she can say that hasn’t already been said, any thought she could share that hasn’t already passed through both of our minds.
“Sometimes I wish I didn’t get that Richmond offer,” I confess. “I kept holding out and holding out last fall after the first several offers, thinking they’d eventually stop coming as the rosters filled. But then Richmond dropped this in my lap. Literally an offer too good to pass up. But all I can think about is how easy it would be to walk away.”
“You can’t do that.”
“Now you sound like Mark …”
“That’s not what I mean,” she says. “You’ve been giving this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Talon. You have these gifts, these talents. Use them for good. The world is exceeding capacity on assholes and you have a chance to be one less asshole in the world. Imagine all the wonderful things you could do with that money, with your fame and your image. You could be someone’s hero. Lord knows the world doesn’t have enough of those. I mean … kids will be wearing your jersey, hanging posters of you on their walls and saying they want to be like you someday. And they should be. Because you’re so much more amazing than anyone realizes—and I’d hate to see the world miss out on that.”
“You make it sound so nice,” I say. “But there’s still a missing piece to all of that.”
“You don’t have to love football now. You can learn to love it again.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about, Irie,” I say. “You’re the missing piece in that beautiful picture you just painted.” I pull her over top of me, her long legs straddling my sides, and I sit up. “I want those things, Irie. I want to be that man. But I want you too.” She tries to respond, but I silence her with a kiss, my fingers slipping through her caramel strands. My cock throbs, straining against the inside of my jeans. I’ve never felt this close to anyone in my life and yet it’s not enough. I want more of her.
Deeper, harder, more
“I’m falling for you, Irie,” I whisper. “And I want you to know … I would never use you. I would never make you feel ashamed for enjoying something you have every right to enjoy …”
She kisses me back, her body melting against mine.
“I love you.” The words glide off my tongue, effortless and with an autonomy of their own, and nothing I’ve ever said has felt so right, but maybe that’s because they’ve been there all along, from the moment I laid eyes on her.
I’ve never believed in love at first sight, soulmates, or any of that bullshit—but that was before Irie Davenport walked into my life.
She pulls away, cupping my face in her gentle hands and depositing her wistful gaze on mine. “I … I love you too.”
Chapter 31
Irie
We lie under the stars, basking in silence and our shared confessions and new admissions. It doesn’t feel right to say anything more, to taint the complicated beauty of tonight with small talk.
“We should head back,” I say, gazing at a darkened sky. I don’t feel like dealing with my aunt’s wrath if I stay out too late. Despite the fact that I’m a grown woman, I’m staying at their house and fully expected to respect that curfew.
We stroll the three blocks back to my aunt and uncle’s house hand in hand relatively unrushed, and we stop at the rental car at the end of the driveway. All the other cars that were here earlier appear to be long gone and the house is mostly dark save for a few inside lights.
“I should probably go check into my room,” he says, his fingers twisted with mine as we face one another. “You’re welcome to stay with me …”