I lick my lips as my gaze travels along her jaw. “Chargers want to sign me, first round.”
Her lips curve up as she peeks over at me. “That’s incredible. I’m so proud of you.” I smile back at her, feeling the praise in every inch of my body. I don’t know why her being proud of me gets me going, but it does. She looks back to my nails. “What are you thinking?”
I watch her for a moment, gathering my thoughts. “I won’t go first round in the NHL.”
“Right. Is Jude still tracking second or third?”
“Yeah,” I say as my hand travels up her plump thigh. “If I go with the Chargers, it’ll be fifteen million for four years.”
She whistles as she shakes her head. I look down at my hand on her thigh, tracing the curves and bumps along her skin. I wait for the anxiety of having admitted that number to her, but I don’t feel it at all. I feel good, knowing I have her to talk to about it. Before, I could never speak so openly about this with anyone else, but with Ambrosia, I know she’ll be there with me. That one day, my money will be her money, and vice versa.
Or, at least, I fucking hope so.
“That’s a good contract and good money for a rookie.”
“Agreed,” I say softly, and I feel her looking over at me.
“What’s the holdup?”
I meet her gaze. “I wouldn’t be able to play hockey this season.”
Her eyes widen, but then she nods. “Makes sense.” She inhales, letting her breath out with a whoosh. “But sucks.”
“Exactly.”
“Could that be discussed? Like maybe do what you did with this football season, only play important games?”
I shrug. “I mean, my dad would be down, but the risk of injury is still there.”
“Yeah, and if they said that, they want you healthy for a reason. Maybe you’ll be a starter?”
“I don’t know.”
Our eyes lock as she threads her fingers with mine. Silence falls between us as we breathe in time with each other. She swallows before she asks, “Are you ready to be done?”
“No,” I admit honestly, and it’s so easy when it comes to her. “But what if that is a feeling that will never go away?”
Her thumb moves with mine. “But could the same be said about football?”
The question catches me off guard, but I know the answer. The words leave my lips before I can even process the thought. “I was ready to be done after the championship game.”
“Ready or expecting?”
“Ready.” I say it with more confidence than I feel. “Even with football still going until the bowl games, my training has already switched to hockey.”
She holds my gaze and then brings my hand to her lips. She presses a kiss to my knuckles, and then, against them, she says, “Then I think you have your answer.”
I do, and I wait for the fear of losing the sport to hit. I wait to feel like a failure or even like I’m giving up. But the only thing I feel is love for this girl. “You could broadcast in LA, though.”
She shrugs. “Sure, but this isn’t about me.”
“I know, but you’re a part of the decision for me,” I admit, my heart in my throat.
“So you’d want me to follow you?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “You have dreams outside of me.”
“But like you said, you’re a part of my decision too.”
