Page 120 of Love, Literature, and the Linebacker

“That’s what scares me,” Darnell says. “This is everything Dylan’s worked for. His whole life has been building toward this moment. And now that the Larks made it clear they want him if he goes undrafted, he’s standing right at the edge of it, and he’s hesitating. Because of how much he loves you.”

Tears sting the back of my eyes, but I force them away. It feels like I’m trapped in an impossible space, torn between wanting to be with Dylan and not wanting to be the reason he lets go of his future. I never meant to pull him in two directions, but that’s exactly what I’ve done.

“Long distance could work,” I say softly, the words almost a plea. “People do it all the time, don’t they?”

Darnell leans back, shaking his head. “I know it’s an option. But he doesn’t know how to do anything halfway. Not football. Not love. The idea of trying to split himself between both… it’s eating him alive. Football isn’t the only future he can picture anymore.”

A part of me knows Dylan should have been the one to tell me this. Darnell has handed me a private fear and made it sound like a final decision.

I nod slowly, the truth of it burrowing deep in my bones. This isn’t a novel with a neat resolution. There’s no clean answer here, no perfect path where everyone wins. This is real life—messy and complicated and unfair.

Books promise that the hardest choice is usually the right one. Real life doesn’t. Sometimes there isn’t a right choice at all.

I exhale shakily.

Every book I’ve ever loved has taught me that love was worth fighting for. None of them have prepared me for the possibility that loving someone might mean stepping out of the story altogether.

***

Dylan’s dorm room feels too small, the air thick with everything we aren’t saying. We sit side by side on his bed, close enough to touch, but miles apart. I can feel it building, the moment before everything changes.

Finally, Dylan shifts. “Lucy,” he says quietly, “I’ve been thinking a lot about everything. About us.”

I brace myself.

I already know this conversation will determine our future. I can feel it in the way he won’t quite look at me, in the careful tension gathered at the corners of his mouth.

The room feels different tonight. Smaller somehow. The same bed where we’ve laughed and kissed and said things that felt permanent now feels like a place built for impact.

Dylan has always belonged to motion. I built my life around things that stay.

I thought love might somehow make those differences feel smaller.

Instead, sitting here beside him, they feel enormous.

I fold my hands together in my lap, trying to stop them from shaking. I want him to say anything else. I want this to be about Christmas plans or another football team event or the weather. Anything that doesn’t feel like the rest of our lives balancing on the edge of one conversation.

But when he finally speaks, the fear that’s been circling me for weeks sharpens into something I can’t ignore.

“I told Coach if I go undrafted, I don’t want to pursue the Larks.”

My throat dries.

Then, he takes my hand, his grip firm and steady. “If they call after the draft, I’m not signing with them. I’ll find something closer. Something that doesn’t mean leaving without you.”

My chest shakes until breathing feels impossible. This is exactly what I was afraid of.

“No, Dylan, you can’t take them off the table because of me. You’ve worked your entire life for this. You can’t give it up because of me.”

“I’m not giving anything up,” he insists. “I know what feels right. Football is still important, but I don’t want a life that puts three thousand miles between us.”

My hands tremble as I search for words that will stop him. “You’re being ridiculous. This is your dream. We can do long distance. We’ll figure it out. You don’t have to choose.”

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not just about distance. Football matters, but you matter more. I’m not leaving you.”

Tears blur my vision. “You don’t understand,” I say, my heart breaking. “If you give this up, you’ll regret it. And someday, you’ll resent me.”

“I won’t,” he says firmly. “I’m choosing this because I love you.”