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“I’m sorry,” I replied. I watched his brain short-circuit as I caught him off guard. “I shouldn’t have avoided you. I needed time to get my head straight after our conversation, and I should have told you that. I did exactly what I promised I wouldn’t, and I’m sorry.”

His mouth parted, but whatever he’d been prepared to say disappeared. Some of the tension in his shoulders eased as the apology sank in—though the worry didn’t vanish completely. He looked almost relieved and unsettled at the same time, like he’d spent so long preparing for the worst that he didn’t quite know what to do with me taking responsibility first.

“And while it doesn’t fix the mistake I made,” I continued, “I was going to come find you when I finished packing up here to talk and to apologize.”

“Okay,” he whispered, nodding slowly. “Give me through the draft and then I’ll come out.”

Of all the things I’d expected him to say, that hadn’t even made the list. Honestly, him offering any kind of concrete compromise wasn’t on the list. And the draft he’d qualify for was only a year and a half away, which was much sooner than I imagined he’d be comfortable with.

“You don’t—”

“No, let me finish,” Theo interrupted with that fire I adored in him, and I fell silent, giving him the space to finish. “I know I hesitated, and I know I said I didn’t want to screw up my chance at football—and I still don’t. I don’t think I have to apologize for that, and I know you don’t want me to apologize for that.”

I didn’t. I didn’t want Theo to make himself smaller to protect my feelings. I wanted the truth more than anything else. We both deserved that.

“I want to play for the NFL, but not if it means that I can’t have you,” he said. “So, I’m asking you to give me until the draft to secure my spot. After that, it doesn’t matter.”

My chest tightened.

“But it does matter,” I replied. The draft wasn’t some magical finish line. Coming out afterward could still complicate contracts, playing time, endorsements, the locker room—everything we’d already talked about. Theo knew that.

“No, it doesn’t. Not to me it doesn’t,” he told me. “I want the best chance I can to get in, and I understand being out could harm my chances. But after that, I don’t care. They can take me or leave me as I am. If it doesn’t work out, then it doesn’t work out. At least I know I can do it. But I won’t lose you over it.”

I just stared at him as my mind worked to process what he was offering. He wasn’t promising that everything would work out, and he wasn’t pretending there wouldn’t be consequences. He was giving himself enough time to protect the dream he’d spent his entire life chasing. After that, he was drawing a line and making me part of it.

I wasn’t about to lie and tell him that he wouldn’t lose opportunities because of it. I couldn’t promise much of anything. Too many variables were beyond either of our control.

“Are you sure?” I asked softly.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he crossed the room in a few quick steps and grabbed my face in his hands. He kissed me hard, and every second of it was filled with all the reassurance I needed and more. My hands settled on his hips as I pulled him closer, and he came willingly, his body settling against mine.

“I’ve never been sure of anything more,” Theo promised when he broke the kiss. “But I have one more condition.”

“Which is?”

“I want to tell the team about us.”

He what?

I was certain I’d misunderstood him. I stared at him, waiting for the punchline that never came. But his expression was unwavering as he watched me process his statement.

“I want to tell the team about us,” he repeated.

“I heard you the first time,” I said. “I just can’t figure out why, because you know how this could backfire.”

“Because I know it won’t.” He wrapped his arms around my shoulders. “I know we still have a few more months to play, but you’re not the coach anymore. At least not in any way that really matters.”

“Theo.” I frowned. “That’s not entirely true.”

“I know,” he replied. His hands shifted behind my neck, his fingers brushing lightly through my hair. “I know you’re still involved until the season ends. I’m not pretending there isn’t a risk.”

“Then why take it?”

“Because they’re my family,” Theo told me simply. “Jude knows, Wyatt knows, Sariah knows, all your friends know… I want mine to know too.”

His response softened my worries just a little. It didn’t take them away, but I could understand his why.

“But the whole team?” I repeated, making a face. The risk of it felt unnecessary. One or two of the guys, maybe. The few closest to him, maybe. But the whole goddamn team? That felt like inviting an administrative nightmare.