The only thing I could think about all the next few days was how she had given herself to me so completely.

Taylor was afraid of me, but she trusted me. That meant more to me than anything else. She trusted me with her body and with her career, and I had to find a way to pay that trust back.

I had started by giving her the best orgasm of her fucking life, and I’d finish by doing better than that.

We were just getting started. I could feel it deep inside my bones. She knew my darkest secret, and she still didn’t reject me. Or at least she didn’t outright reject me; things were still strained between us at practice.

When I tried to confront her about it, all she said was that she was afraid of getting involved with a man with mafia ties. I couldn’t blame her, so I didn’t push. We still talked and joked while we did my rehab, but we didn’t sleep together again.

It wasn’t like I didn’t try. After I left her apartment that day, I figured we’d be doing that more often. But when I texted her the next night after work, inviting her over to my place, she didn’t even bother to answer. She had some lame excuse about her phone dying the next day, but I’d gotten the hint.

Maybe she didn’t hate me, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to take this to the next level.

That was fine by me. I could wait a little bit longer if that was what she needed. I understood that what had happened between us was intense, and she’d need a little bit of space to process it. I wasn’t going to force her to do something she didn’t want to do.

I needed her to give herself over to me willingly.

The days passed like that, and I felt like we were in a holding pattern. My money issue wasn’t solving itself, and the next game was fast approaching. If I lost another big bet, I was going to be in a pretty deep hole that not even a paycheck could cover.

Sunday afternoon. The sun was shining and the weather was gorgeous as the team stepped onto our home field. I wasn’t dressed to play, so I was stuck over on the sidelines with the coaches and the support staff.

I hated being benched. I knew it was only to let my knee heal, but I still couldn’t stand it. I watched Kennings warm up, and he looked pretty good. He had never been a starter and had bounced around between teams for years, but he was a solid performer. He wasn’t a young guy anymore, though.

Still, guys had breakout years all the time. All they needed was one opportunity and one good game to really get out there and do something. Just because he’d never done it before didn’t mean he wasn’t going to make something happen now.

And there I was on the sidelines, totally helpless. It was an awful fucking feeling. My career was at stake, and a lot of money was riding on my team’s performance, and I was as useful as any other asshole sitting in the stands and getting wasted.

The team took the field for the first drive, having opted to receive the ball first. They pushed down the field, with Kennings taking a few decent runs, and ended up kicking a long field goal.

The rest of the first quarter was surprisingly boring. I had thought it was going to be a blowout for us, but the Browns were putting up a fight. Kennings was running okay, not great, and although that made me feel safe in my job, it made me worry about my fucking money.

In the second quarter, Kennings broke out a big run. It was a delayed handoff from shotgun, and he managed to pick his way between the defenders to run for thirty yards. That play put my team in position to score on a quick slant passing play over the middle.

Halftime rolled around, and we headed into the locker room winning ten to nothing. Coach gave some speech about playing tight on defense, about finishing tackles, and about winning close games, but I wasn’t listening.

I was too busy imagining what would happen if Kennings came out and broke a few more big runs.

Maybe I was being selfish. Maybe I should have just been excited for my team to win.

But fuck that. This was my job. If I lost my spot, I may never regain it again.

The team cleared out of the locker room, and I found myself alone. I could hear the roar of the crowd as I leaned back against a locker, staring up at the ceiling. I didn’t want to go back out there, but I knew I couldn’t just hide like a fucking baby.

“Hey.”

I looked up. “Hey.”

Taylor smiled at me. “Can I sit?”

“Sure.”

She sat down next to me. “I bet this is hard.”

“Yeah.”

“Not fun watching someone else do your job.”

“No, it’s not.”

“He sucks, though.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “He’s playing fine.”

“No, he’s not. He hasn’t broken a single tackle all game. That one lucky run aside, he’s basically grinding for three yards per carry. His stats aren’t good.”

“That’s a good point.”

“He doesn’t look like you do on the field, either.”

“What do you mean?”

“You just look . . .” She trailed off, trying to find the words.

“Handsome? Sexy?”

“In control.”

“I’d prefer handsome, but I’ll take that.”

“Kennings looks like a lost little kid trying his best. You look like you belong on that field.”

I nodded at her. “Thanks.”

“I mean it. I’m not just saying it because, you know.”

“I know what?”

“Because we’re doing whatever it is we’re doing.”

I laughed again, shaking my head. “What are we doing, Taylor?”

“I don’t know.”

“One second you want me to take you, and the next you’re holding me at a distance.”

She looked away. “I’m just scared.”

“I know you are. But what are you scared of?”

“The mafia.”

“I don’t think that’s it.”

She stood up. “No? So it’s totally unreasonable for me to be afraid of the mafia?”

“I didn’t say that. I just don’t think the mafia is the real issue.”

“Go ahead and tell me then, Owen, since you know me so well.”

“Okay.” I stood up and stepped toward her. “I think you’re afraid of me.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“I think you are. Or maybe you’re afraid of yourself when you’re around me. I’m not sure there’s a difference.”

“You think I’m out of control around you?”

“You think that.”

“No. You’re so damn arrogant.”

“Maybe, but I’m right.”

“Listen to me, Owen,” Taylor said, looking back at me angrily. “You don’t know everything. Things between us are so messed up.”

“So why are you here then?”

“Because . . .” She shook her head. “I don’t even know.”

“Because you can’t help yourself. You want to be around me.”

“Asshole.”

I stood up and walked toward her. She looked away, and I could tell she was nearly shaking with rage.

Or maybe it was desire. I couldn’t tell the difference when it came to her.

“There’s something about me that you want. We both feel it.”

“We should get back out there.”

“Maybe. Admit that you can’t stay away.”

She looked at me and sighed. “Fine. Will that make you stop?”

“No, but it’ll help.”

She cracked a small smile. “Come on, asshole.”

I smiled as I followed her back down the long hall and out onto the field. The next half hadn’t started yet, but it was coming. We headed over to the sideline, and she went to rejoin the training staff. She gave me a quick nod as I stood next to the running back coach.

I felt like I understood her, but she was constantly changing her mind. One second I had her, and the next she was drifting away. I knew things wouldn’t be this complicated if we didn’t work together and if she had never found out about the mafia, but there was no changing reality. This was the situation we were in, and we needed to figure it out.

As I stood there and watched the second half kickoff, I knew that I was going to make it work. Maybe she was going to keep running from me, but I’d catch her eventually. It helped that she was drawn to me and couldn’t stop herself, even when she wanted to.

The second half started a lot like the first one. We stopped the Browns on four plays, and then we got the ball back. We slowly drove down the field and made it within twenty yards of the end zone.

It was a routine play. The QB was under center and Kennings was lined up behind him. The QB took the snap, dropped back, and handed it off to Kennings.

But something went wrong. Kennings didn’t get a good hold of the ball for whatever reason, and when the defensive linebacker burst through the line and tackled Kennings hard, he knocked the ball free.

For a short moment, anyone could have gotten it. Guys scrambled for the ball, trying to grab it. But in the end, one of the defensive lineman for the Browns fell on it, and it was officially ruled a turnover.

Kennings had fumbled the ball in the red zone. We were still winning ten to nothing, but we had just missed out on a huge opportunity.

I looked over at him as he came over to the sidelines. He looked pissed, angrier than I’d ever seen him. Part of me was rejoicing in this moment, but I knew I had to do something.

I pushed through the crowd of guys and grabbed onto his shoulder pads. “Kennings,” I said.

“What, Owen?”

“Don’t be a fucking pussy, man.”

“What?” He seemed shocked.

“Use this anger. You’re running hard. Run fucking harder. Get back on that field and make those fucking pussies pay for what they did.”

He stared at me for a second and then nodded. “Thanks.”

I slapped his helmet and then walked off.

In a lot of ways, Kennings was my competition, but I couldn’t let him lose this game. Even if I hadn’t had money on it, I would have given him a pep talk. He needed it, and I knew it would have more weight coming from someone who didn’t really want him to succeed.

As I got back in my spot on the sidelines, I knew that the game was still hanging in the balance. Anything could happen, and it could go either way.

I looked back toward the stands, and for a second, I could have sworn I saw Tony standing there, grinning at me. My heart started beating hard, and I had the urge to climb up there and beat the fuck out of him.

But it wasn’t him. It was just some drunk fan who looked like him.

I turned back toward the field, my stomach a knotted mess.