Because the truth was, yes, there were offers. But not from the top clubs. Not from the ones that mattered. I could probably still play, but not at the level I once had.
Angelo looked at me, waiting. “So? You’re going back soon?”
The question hit harder than I expected.
Before last night, before Rio, the answer had been clear:Of course. I’d go back. I’d fight for it. No matter what it took.
But now, the stakes were different. Everything was different.
It wasn’t just about my knee anymore.
It was abouther.
I hesitated.
And in that hesitation, I saw Rio’s expression shift. Just a flicker, but enough. Enough for her to notice. Enough for her tosee.
I forced a quick smile, reaching for something neutral. “We’ll see. First, I have to fix this knee.”
Angelo nodded like that made sense, but I felt Rio’s gaze on me.
The bell jingled again, cutting through the moment, and a customer stepped inside. The conversation broke naturally as Rio turned to greet the new arrival.
Angelo shook my hand again. “Good luck,” he said, gave me one more smile of appreciation, and moved toward the back.
I stayed where I was for one beat longer.
Because for the first time since my injury, the future wasn’t just one path stretching ahead.
It was a choice.
And I had no fucking idea how to make it.
25
Rio
STEAM CURLED AROUNDus as water cascaded over our skin, heat sinking into my body, relaxing me in a way that had nothing to do with the shower itself. It was him—his presence, his touch, the way his body fit against mine, solid and familiar, like something I’d known forever but was only now allowing myself to claim.
I leaned my head back against his hard chest, letting his hands slide down my stomach before I caught them, lacing our fingers together.
“We’re going to be late,” I murmured, my voice languid, my body still aching from the way we fucked against the warm, wet tiles a few minutes ago—my back against the wall, legs wrapped around his waist, arms around his neck, his palms gripping me tight, the sound of us echoing in the steamy air.
His lips skimmed the curve of my shoulder. “I don’t care.”
I did. And didn’t.
It had only been a few days, but already, this thing between us was overpowering. I tried topretend I could be like Ruby—treating it casually, taking what I could from the moment without a care for the future, without a single gash to my heart. But nights tangled in my sheets, hands roaming, mouths claiming, eyes locking, words whispered in the dark—and I was already too far gone, craving him like something vital, an addiction I couldn’t quit.
During the day, we barely managed to keep our hands off each other around Walter. And every time we were apart, I told myself I could stop this anytime, that I could go back to before without feeling the withdrawal in my body or heart.
Sure, I could go just one night of sleep, just one evening without reaching for him.
I just hadn’t tested that theory yet.
Because then he’d show up at my door. Or I’d be the one reaching first.
Under the warm water now, I turned in his arms, my palms flat on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my fingertips.
