“Rome? Oh, the owner of HotShots?”
He nodded. “We played together in college.”
I considered everything he just said. Reyes must have not only been good butreallygood to have made a position on the national team in a country that honored their soccer players the way America honored its football players. “Do the kids at your clinic know?”
“Yeah.” Rey winced when his knee bumped the edge of the bathtub. “A lot of the families were asking for autographs yesterday. I’m surprised you didn’t notice.”
“I did. I just assumed it was because you were their coach, not that you were some world-famous player.”
He was silent a moment. “I never wanted to be famous. I just wanted to play.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that, so I just wrapped my other arm around him and held him close.
Reyes tried to slowly stretch his leg out in front of us. The tub was huge, with plenty of room for two almost six-foot-tall men to be able to stretch out. He managed to straighten it completely but couldn’t hold it long before bending it again.
“I’m sorry, Jake,” he said softly. “I didn’t mean to mislead you. It’s just… people look at me differently when they know. It’s been nice not having that kind of attention for once.”
“Believe me, I understand.” I kissed his neck. Reyes glanced at me sideways, curious. “I grew up as the son of a police chief, which meant everyone knew who I was and what I was into. It only got worse after my dad died. The press was a nightmare for a few months, and if it hadn’t been for our friend Grant, Mom would have lost it completely not having any privacy. I can’t even imagine trying to live that way on a much bigger scale.” I barely contained a shudder at the thought.
Reyes angled his head to look at me more clearly. I could almost see the tension draining away, sweet relief in his eyes that I truly understood. “Is that why you became a cop? Because of your dad?”
“No. Not initially. I mean, I always admired him, but I actually wanted to be a pilot when I was younger.”
Rey smiled. “You must have a thing for uniforms.”
“Well, apparently, so do you.”
“Fuck, yeah, I do.”
I kissed him, laughing. “Will you tell me about the injury? What happened?”
“Not much to tell. I was doing a move I could normally do in my sleep and didn’t see the guy coming at me. Instead of attacking the ball, he kicked my ankle, which made me fall and twist my knee. It’s been a problem ever since.”
“Kicked your ankle? Isn’t that illegal?”
“Sí,” he said flatly.
I waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. “Is it permanent?”
“No, but… I tore my ACL a few years back, so the doctors say I need surgery if I want to continue to play at that level. They’re trying to prevent it from turning into something worse.”
I heard the uncertainty in his voice. “Ifyou want to continue?”
Rey couldn’t look at me, trailing a hand along my arm, without speaking. When he pulled my arm tighter across his chest, I knew whatever he was going to say was going to hurt… and I almost didn’t want him to say it.
“It doesn’t matter what I want because I’m no longer on the team.”
“Oh, babe. They let you go?”
He gave a small nod. “Replaced me for a younger, faster athlete.”
The news was devastating, and I tightened my hold on him even more, wishing I could take his pain away. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s my career, you know. My whole fucking life! Everything I’ve worked for since I was fourteen. And I lost it all.”
His voice cracked, and I wondered if this was the first time he’d really talked about it with someone. Had Rey grieved for what he’d lost yet? Something told me he hadn’t, and it made me understand Rey better, the sadness I saw in his eyes sometimes. These last two days must have reminded him of all that he’d lost. Which is why heneededto feel good again. I couldn’t blame him. I understood that need far more than he knew. While I hadn’t lost my career and my entire life’s dream, I had been devastated after my dad died. He’d been my best friend, my role model, and the man I’d looked up to more than anyone. His absence left me with a void very little could alleviate, and I’d sought the comfort of another body, just as Reyes had. More often than not, it had been Beckett I’d used to try to feel again, since he was going through his own ordeal at the time and needed the same thing I did. Honestly, I felt lucky every damn day that those decisions hadn’t destroyed the weak foundation we’d built our friendship on. Beckett was the kind of friend you could count on for anything, and I wanted to be that for Reyes now.
Rey’s grip on my hand became a vise and his words melted into nothing more than incoherent mumbles as he broke. There were no real sobs, but I felt his devastation all the same. God, how I felt it. My heart hurt for Reyes, yet I didn’t know what to say to comfort him, so I just kissed his shoulder and held him, nuzzling my scruff against his neck.
