She fought hard to keep thoughts of Chad Lewis from creeping into her head. The only thing Jamar had in common with that asshole was that they had both started out as clients. There was no rational reason for her to think that her relationship with Jamar would turn out the way things had turned out with Chad.
She returned her focus to the game, but then her stomach started to sour for a different reason. This game was violent as hell. She flinched with every noisy collision between the players.
A few minutes later, Taylor twisted around to face Jamar. “Okay, I have a question. It’s a bit intrusive, and even though you have every right to tell me that it’s none of my business, I would really appreciate an answer.”
“What do you want to know?” he asked in a strained voice, as if he would rather be in a cage with actual lions and bears instead of just watching them on TV if it meant he didn’t have to address her question.
“Why are you trying to get back into the NFL? I know you want to take care of Silas’s family, but is football really the only option? Couldn’t you maybe sell this house and move into a place with only five bedrooms and a regular-sized pool? It seems as if football has caused you nothing but pain. I don’t understand why you want to return.”
“The joy football has brought me far outweighs the hurt. Every hard hit, every bruised rib, every piece of skin I’ve left on the turf has been worth it.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because of the friendships. The camaraderie.” He pointed to the television. “Those men were my brothers. They were family. That’s why it was so hard when I lost it all.”
Jamar paused for several moments before directing his attention to the game. He pointed at the screen.
“It was fourth down and eight yards to go. Common sense says you pass the ball, but the offensive coordinator drew up a running play. Coach knew it was risky, but he had enough confidence in me to put the ball in my hands—to put thegamein my hands. Everyone thought it would work.”
“But it didn’t,” she surmised.
He shook his head.
“What happened?” Taylor asked, knowing his explanation would be meaningless to her. But she sensed he needed to talk through this.
“The Lions drew up a blitz,” he said. “Somehow, they read the play. The defensive lineman—a fellow Longhorn who I played with at UT and who was one of my best friends on the team—caught me on the right side. I never saw him coming.”
His eyebrows pinched together, his grimace reflecting genuine pain. Taylor could see the effort it took for him to swallow.
“I let everyone down,” he said, his hoarse whisper sounding like two pieces of sandpaper being rubbed together. “I knew within seconds that I wasn’t walking off that field—that I would have to be carted off.” He looked over at her. The sorrow in his eyes was soul-crushing. “There were only two days in my life that have ever been harder: the day Silas died and the day we put him in the ground. It’s as if something in me died those days, as if I lost a physical piece of myself.”
“Do you think playing football again will give you back something you lost?” she asked in a quiet voice. “It won’t bring Silas back.”
“No, but it’s the thing that connected us,” he said. “But, you know, this is about more than Silas. This game has been at the center of everything for nearly all of my life. There’s a picture of me on the living room mantel as a baby. I’m dressed in a throwback Houston Oilers jersey and holding this tiny football. Then, when I was five years old, my dad signed me up for peewee football, and I’ve played every year since.”
“No wonder it’s so hard for you to walk away.”
“I just wasn’t ready.” He closed his eyes. “I can’t accept the way my football story ended, Taylor. After all those years, all the work I put into making it onto an NFL team, to have it all snatched away from me like that?” He shook his head. “I want to write my own ending. I want to go out onmyterms, not because of some freak hit to my knee.
“I don’t know if I’ll last longer than a season or two, but the next time I leave football, I want to walk away standing tall. Does that make sense?”
She nodded. “It does. Have you talked to your parents about this?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Mom and Dad called before they left for their cruise. I told them about the real reason I hired you as a trainer. I can tell that my mom’s worried about me playing football again, but they both gave me their blessing. They know how much this game means to me.”
“I’ve watched you push yourself to the limit and beyond nearly every day for the past five weeks,” Taylor said. “You deserve to leave football on your own terms. I hope you get the opportunity to make that happen.”
He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her lips. “You’ve given me the best chance. I just have to make sure I don’t mess it up.”
“Have you talked to Micah about scheduling the team workout?”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “I was going to wait until after the season ended, but he doesn’t think I should wait that long. If I get signed by a team, it’s likely to be one that doesn’t make the playoffs, so what’s the point in waiting. Micah suggested I do it the second week of December.”
“Wow, that soon?” She shrugged. “Well, at least I’ll be back from North Carolina by then.”
He reared back. “You’re going to North Carolina?”
“I didn’t mention that?” Taylor asked. “It’s my dad’s sixtieth birthday. Mom is throwing a huge party for him—which he will absolutely hate every minute of—but he lives to indulge her whims.” She looked up at him. “Do you want to come with me?”
