Everything. Nothing. The fact that I’d woken up in his arms and had felt safe for the first time in years, and that feeling had terrified me more than the grief ever had.
“You were just supposed to be someone to split the bills. It was a relief that you weren’t a typical jock, but I can’t do this,” I said instead, gesturing vaguely between us. “Whatever this is becoming.”
His expression shifted. Something careful settling over his features. “Why not?”
“Because I’m barely holding it together as it is.” The words came out rougher than I intended. “The capstone, keeping up on my other classes, applying to grad programs— I don’t have space for anything else right now.”
“I’m not asking for space. I’m just asking you to stop running away every time we have a moment.”
“That’s the same thing.” I turned to face him. “You want something I can’t give you. Not now. Maybe not ever.”
The silence stretched between us. Seth’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away.
“Is this really about time?” His voice was quiet. “Or is this about what I do?”
My chest constricted. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do.” He stepped closer. “We both know damned well you wouldn’t freak out at the slightest hint of attraction if I didn’t play ball.”
“That’s not?—”
“Tanner.” Just my name, but the way he said it made my throat tight. “I know what happened to your father. I know why you can’t watch games, why you flinch when people talk about the sport. And I get it. I do. But I’m not asking you to be okay with football. I’m just asking you not to shut me out.”
“I watched it destroy him,” I said, the words breaking apart. “Watched it take everything he was and leave nothing behind. And I know— I know you’re different, I know you’re stopping after this season, but it doesn’t change what it represents. What it took from me.”
“I know.” His voice was soft. Careful. “And I’m not asking you to forget that. I’m not asking you to come to games or pretend it doesn’t hurt. I just—” He broke off, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what I’m asking for. I just know that whatever’s happening between us feels worth exploring, and you’re scared, and I don’t know how to make that better.”
The truth of it hit me like a physical blow. He was right. I was scared. Scared of letting someone in when I was barely holding myself together. Scared of what it meant that the person I was drawn to played the sport that had destroyed my family. Scared that even if I wanted this—wanted him—I didn’t have anything left to give.
“I can’t,” I said, even though the words felt like giving up something I hadn’t known I wanted. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do this right now.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Because standing here in the October dark with him close enough to touch, I wasn’t sure there was a difference.
“I should go.” I pushed off the railing. “I’ll see you at home.”
“Tanner—”
“Please.” The word came out ragged. “Just…give me time. Let me figure this out.”
He looked at me for a long moment. Something raw in his expression, something that made me want to close the distance between us and forget every reason I shouldn’t.
Then he nodded.
“Okay. I’ll give you time.” He reached out and brushed his fingers against mine—barely a touch, but it sent heat shooting up my arm. “But I’m not going anywhere. And when you’re ready to talk, I’ll be here.”
The apartment was dark when I got there. I went to my room and sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for the sound of Seth’s key in the lock.
It came an hour later. Soft footsteps in the hallway. A pause outside my door, long enough that I held my breath.
Then he moved on. His bedroom door opened and closed.
My phone buzzed.
Seth
I meant what I said. You’re worth waiting for. Even if you don’t believe it yet.
