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His words tumble through my mind on repeat, my brain snagging bits and pieces and shoving them in places in my own life.

Life does change quickly. The fact that Poppy has been in my house, moving around like she belongs there, is proof enough. But the changes won’t stop there. They never do.

“He said that I was lucky that I got to decide when football was over for me because lots of guys don’t.”

I take a long, deep breath and let this soak in. It’s something I’ve been pondering quietly for a long time.

When is football over for me?

Every year that I take the field, I’m gambling with my body. I’m not twenty-five anymore, like Hannah so politely pointed out. And it’s taking longer to recover from the bangs and bruises. But I still love the game. The competition, the adrenaline, and the camaraderie of going into battle week after week with the guys continue to drive me. I’ve spent most of my life working for this—for a career in the pros. For the chance to prove myself capable of extraordinary things. To leave a mark on the game. I know how lucky I am to have made it this far.

But loving the game this much makes it hard to see things clearly. I know the injuries are adding up. Eventually, my age, my body, or some younger guy will force my hand, and I’ll have to retire.

Yet, every year, I convince myself I have one more season left. I can do it all one more time. Hell, it would almost be irresponsible not to play another season and make that kind of money.

I don’t want to walk away too soon and spend the rest of my life wondering what I left on the field. But I don’t want to stay so long that the game makes the choice for me, either.

“Hey, you,” Poppy says, stepping onto the porch as a boom of thunder ripples through the air.

“Come here.”

She doesn’t hesitate to tuck herself under my arm, and the ease in which she does it feels like we’ve come so far.

“It’s so quiet,” she says, laughing softly. “I keep having this internal panic that Sunny’s somewhere eating something she shouldn’t be.”

“Oh, she probably is.” I chuckle. “It’s just not our problem anymore.”

She hums, resting her head against my side. “This week was a lot.”

“Yeah. But it was kinda fun, though.”

“A little.” She presses a kiss to my chest. “I waffle back and forth about wanting to have kids. I figured that I’d be sure about it one way or the other when Sunny went home, but I’m still as waffley as ever.”

I laugh. “Waffley, huh?”

“Yup. Waffley.”

I pull her closer. “I can understand that. I mean, it feels like such a trade-off. You give up your freedom and sanity, if we’re being honest⁠—”

“And sleep.”

“And clean house. Not that it would be a major lifestyle change for you,” I say, teasing her. She punches me playfully in the stomach, making me laugh. “But it’s a lot to consider giving up.”

We stand together, wrapping our arms around each other, watching the birds swoop over the valley. Neither of us say anything for a few minutes. I think we’re both recalibrating ourselves to life without a toddler in the house.

“You’re right,” she says finally. “It’s a lot to give up, but then I think about when she said okay for the first time. Or how happy she is to eat.” She giggles. “The way her little lips press together when she’s sleeping is the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“That’s how they lure you into having kids. They make all the good times seem so good that you get suckered into it.”

She laughs. “You want kids, right?”

I nod.

“Well, yesterday, I didn’t. Today, I might. I’m just not sure, you know, in case it matters.”

I hear the concern in her voice that her uncertainty about having a family might be a deal-breaker for me. And, honestly, I really do want a family and cannot imagine my life without one. But I can’t imagine my life without her, either.

“After this week, I don’t think anyone should be making a decision about kids.” I chuckle, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Right now, I never want to see another diaper again.”