Page 175 of The Sweetest Return

Imani sat up enough to look at me.

“You could help them.”

My eyes came to hers.

“I don’t mean out there playing,” she said. “I know that part is different. But you could help them, Dre. I can tell by how you watch. You’re not done with football. You’re done playing it.”

For a few seconds, I didn't have a damn thing to say.

Coach Wallace had said something close. Pops had been pushing around the edges of it. Marcus probably heard it every time I tried to explain why Apex wasn't right for me.

Hearing it from Imani was different.

Maybe because this was the woman who had known me before anybody cared what I could do with a football. Maybe because she was sitting in my house wearing an old Forge shirt while saying something that made my future feel less like an attempt to replace what I had lost.

The thought didn't feel like mourning when it came from her.

It felt like a door.

“You make shit sound simple.”

“No, I don't.” Her mouth curved slightly. “I make it sound possible. There’s a difference.”

A smile pulled at mine despite the pressure still sitting in my chest. “You been back in Pittsburgh five minutes and already telling me what to do with my life.”

“I’m talented.”

“You are.”

I meant it too much for the words to remain a joke.

She heard me.

Instead of answering, Imani shifted until she was straddling my lap, then slid both arms around my shoulders and tucked her face near my neck. My hands went naturally to her waist, but for a while that was all either of us did.

She held me.

And I let her.

My house had always been quiet, which was part of why I bought it. The gate kept cameras, strangers, reporters, and everybody else's expectations outside, and for years I had mistaken the privacy for peace. Nobody saw me limp on a bad day unless I invited them in. Nobody asked when I was coming back or studied my face whenever the Forge played like they expected to catch grief hiding there.

But once the businesses closed for the night and the calls stopped, all that protection left me alone inside a lot of space.

I stayed busy because busy gave my hands something to do. Dealerships. Restaurants. Jones Outdoor. Contracts, payroll, property, decisions. People needed answers from me and I understood how to be useful in those places.

Home was where useful ran out.

With Imani curled into me while football flickered silently across the television, I understood that quiet and peace were not the same thing. Peace was somebody sitting close enough to see the part of me that still missed the field and not looking away because the answer wasn't neat.

Her palm moved over my chest.

“You okay?” she whispered.

I looked at the screen once before meeting her eyes. “No.”

Her arms tightened.

I closed my eyes and let myself take the comfort without pretending it made me weak.