“Yeah, he retired right around the same time he broke up with me.”
Roman cocked his head. “Did you ask him why?”
“Tried to. But he wouldn’t take my calls, and when I got to his place in Chicago to talk to him, he’d already moved out. Had to call his mom just to make sure he wasn’t dead.” He’d never forget how walking into Bennett’s empty apartment had been like having a knife sliced clean through him.
Kas made a sound of sympathy. “Have you asked him since he’s been in town?”
Sandro shook his head.
“So what now?”
“I don’t know.” Frustrated, Sandro dug the base of his palm into his forehead. He didn’t know anything—how much longer his body would last, if it would be up to playing next season, what he’d do after he retired, what the future looked like for him and Bennett.
“Are you going to hook up with him again?” Roman asked.
“I don’t know. What would even be the point? We’d just be going around and around in circles, repeating the past. Not to mention that he’s filming a documentary about my team. That’s a huge ethically gray area.”
When Roman and Kas remained silent, Sandro dropped into a crouch and let out a full-body groan.
“I have thoughts,” Roman said slowly. “Let me tackle the documentary first. I don’t know anything about the ethics of you dating the team’s filmmaker?—”
“Wow. There’s actually something you don’t know?”
“Shut up and listen, asshole.”
Rolling his eyes, Sandro rose.
“Like I was saying,” Roman went on, a hint of attitude in his voice, “I don’t know anything about the ethics, but if you want this thing with Bennett to go anywhere, it’s something you’ll need to talk about with him. Maybe he has the answers you need or maybe it’s not as ethically gray as you seem to think. Now, about repeating the past . . . Why would you be repeating the past? Who says the outcome won’t be different this time?”
Well. Okay.
That was a question.
One Sandro hadn’t considered because the past had too much of a hold on him.
But what if they didn’t repeat it? Could they start fresh? The past would always be there, but that didn’t mean they had to let it define their future.
Bennett had broken his heart once, but life was full of pain. If he let it rule him, would it later turn to regret?
Kas leaned closer to Roman and whispered, “I don’t think he has an answer for that one.”
Sandro chuckled and hung his head back. “I’m telling your husbands you were mean to me.”
They just laughed at him.
Bennett woke up alone.
Before his stomach could sink at that realization, he listened for sounds of movement in the house. When he didn’t hear anything, he rose, pulled on underwear—noticing as he did so that Sandro’s own underwear was gone—and headed downstairs.
The rest of Sandro’s clothing was gone too, as were his coat and shoes.
He’d left?
“Seriously, Ro?”
Was this payback for fifteen years ago?
No. Sandro wasn’t that petty or mean.
