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“You’re right.”
My brow smoothed, and the sharpness of the grief inside of me smoothed too. I would always grieve, always miss them, but the grief didn’t slice as sharply having Champion beside me. My family would want me to love and live my life the best that I could without them. But I wasn’t the only one who needed to let go of the pain of the past and move on.
“You are something on the field.” My tone was wistful and a little sad that he might give it up.
Confident, talented, and experienced, Champion was a natural leader. And his body in a Lonestar jersey and those tight pants? I let out a sad, longing sigh at the thought of that being gone forever.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
“I don’t want to influence your decision about retiring one way or the other,” I said carefully.
“But ...” He purposefully paused, and I filled in.
“It should be your choice. It’s your career.” I wasn’t going to be like his dad. If he continued to play, it needed to be for him. “It just makes me a little sad that I never got an opportunity to see you play in person.”
“That makes me sad too.” His blue eyes glowed intently as he looked at me, like they did from inside his helmet during the critical part of a game. “But I am playing at the pro exhibition in Vegas.”
“I’d love to see that.”
“I’d love you to come with me.”
“Then I’ll come.”
With me training a replacement and changing over to doing choreography at Fantasy, I could probably get some time away.
“I love watching you play.” I scrunched my nose. The truth was I was obsessed like a stalker. “Was Zack invited to the exhibition?”
“Oh yeah.” Champion’s sculpted lips curved at the edges. I think he got that I was an over-the-top fan. “He loves any opportunity to showboat.”
“You two are fantastic, so in sync together on the field,” I said. “How’s he going to do with Clint Appleton as quarterback?”
“Not too well, according to Zack.”
“Oh.” That wasn’t good. “Is Zack giving you pushback about considering retirement?” I asked, wondering out loud.
“A little.” Champion started up the engine. “Speaking of considering, we’d better get going.” He released my hand.
“Right. Simon’s probably going to offer you the moon to stay.”
“He probably will, and he should.”
As Champion drove, we were both silent, lost in our thoughts, until he flicked on the blinker and turned onto a short drive that ended at an iron gate.
“If you retire,” I said after giving it some consideration like he obviously had. “You’ll have more time for your photography. You could do an exhibition.”
“I’ll have more time to spend with you if I retire.” He stopped the vehicle beside a guard hut and glanced at me.
“Are you thinking of quitting because of me?” I asked, not sure I liked that idea.
Champion rolled down his window without answering.
“Mr. Morris is expecting you, Mr. Valentine.” A man with gray hair and a mustache pushed a button, and the iron gate with SM in big letters opened.
“Thanks, Spencer.” Champion gave him a nod.
“No, problem.” Spencer touched the brim of his Texas Lonestars ball cap. “Congrats on the Super Bowl win.”
“Thanks.” Champion rolled up his window and drove us through the gate that was ten feet tall, like the fence that surrounded it for as far as I could see.
