The beginning of a smirk looked like it was tipping the corners of his mouth as I glanced up.
“Like what?” I ask quietly, looking out over the lake.
“I’ve been ashamed of everything I've been dealing with for months. I didn’t tell anyone until the night I told you, and by that time I was easily a few months in. I didn’t want to be judged. But I was losing myself for a while. Mentally, I just wasn’t there. My body, my routines, everything was functioning on autopilot, but I wasn’t really there for it. I don’t know if this makes any fucking sense, but I’m just trying to get it out, to tell someone. And one thing I’m constantly noticing is that talking to you makes me feel better. I’ve just felt broken for the longest time.”
Nate exhales a deep breath.
“Things that are broken can be mended,” I say to him quietly, and feel his lips against the top of my head. A familiar gesture that brings me so much comfort.
“I need to find my purpose. I’ve accomplished so many things already and I’m grateful for all of it, and you’d think that might make all of this better, and easier to deal with, but it really onlyadded pressure. I need to find my purposeoutsideof football. I need to find my why. It can’t be only football.”
“Well, how can I help?”
“You’re already helping.” His eyes close as we lie here, while the sun is nearly setting.
“By making you take a road trip to relax?”
Nate smiles while his eyes are still closed and then shakes his head back and forth.
His blue eyes open and connect with mine, sending my pulse into a frenzy. “By existing.”
I can practically hear my heartbeat with the way it’s pounding. Nate’s still been acting like my best friend, but on steroids lately. Everything is escalated. I’m suddenly realizing how present he has been in my life and how well he knows every little thing about me. I’m noticing how close we are, and how well we interact.
Sometimes the things he does and says make me long for just a little more. He buys me keychains with my name any time he sees them, because one day I made a comment about being on a field trip as a kid where they didn’t have my name and I was devastated. He knows my coffee order, for hot and cold because they aren’t the same. He just knows me, and he gets me, and that kind of bond is really hard to find.
I think, on some level, I can agree that Nate’s feelings for me have changed, but what I’m more focused on is how that makes me feel.
Today, everything feels right. Everything feels good.
Who knows how many miles I walked on the hike, but it brought me some clarity that I didn’t expect. Football has been my life. The only thing that’s ever really mattered. I’ve worked my ass off for years to achieve my goals. Most of them I’ve already achieved. So what am I doing? What’s my purpose at this stage in the game?
When I was listening to a podcast Mia suggested, one of the hosts said something that stuck with me. He said, ask yourself what makes you come alive. Find out what drives you. Find what makes you happy and run with that. Once you figure out what gives you purpose, you’ll find happiness and fulfillment.
My answer to all of those questions isn’t a thing.
It’s a person.
I haven’t taken the time to slow down in years. I’ve been chasing one professional goal after the next and living life in the fast lane. I’ve loved it, but I don’t want it anymore.
I want a house on a piece of land. I want quiet Friday nights in. I want slow mornings and a woman I can’t get enough of. I want all of that and more—with Mia.
“You probably want to change,” I say, pointing to the flannel shirt hanging on the chair.
“I’ll be warm enough in this,” Mia argues, tugging at the sweater she has on.
“You don’t want the smell of a bonfire on that for days. Wear the flannel, Mia.” I turn and walk out of the room, not giving her the opportunity to fight back.
As I’m tossing another few logs into the fire, Mia starts walking down the steps towards me. She’s wearing my flannel over a pair of leggings and some slippers she slid her feet into.
“Is this just for us?” she asks, noticing only two chairs pulled around the flames.
“That a problem?”
She hesitates briefly. “No, no problem.”
I hand her a blanket before taking a seat across from her. The flames rise up quickly, then fall back to a steady pace. All I hear is the faint sound of music across the lake and the crackling of this fire between us.
Her fingers are gently tapping on the nearly empty bottle in her hand.
