The second Russ said those words, my mind was gone, trying to chase down a million different things that I know are far off in the future.

The IFL wants me. The Armada want me. They're already talking about making an offer.

"They're really interested in having an experienced Eastshore alum on their team," Russ had said, right after mentioning them. "A lot of the boys they've got now are pretty green. Just out of college, and some of them without a lot of game time."

They want me to be a mentor. A leader. It's everything I've always wanted: To give back the way my coaches gave to me. Whenever things were rocky with my dad or with school, my coaches always lifted me up and gave me the confidence I needed to get through all of it. One of the assistant coaches at Eastshore encouraged me to come out to my teammates, and supported me through the whole thing.

I want to be that for someone someday, and it can start in Pensacola.

"What do you need from me to make it happen?" I ask, cutting him off as he's telling me more about the team and the typical seasons the league plays.

Sure, the IFL isn't nearly as big or as prestigious as the NFL, but it doesn't matter. They have loyal fans and good players, and those are the two most important things to me. If I can be recognized for the work I put in and help others gain that same recognition, I'm good.

"It'll be a pretty steep drop from what we were expecting, Trav," he warns.

"Russ. Seriously. I've got more money than I know what to do with. If you need to take a bigger commission—"

"You know it's not about that," he says, his tone a little defensive.

"I know," I tell him. "And I wasn't trying to imply otherwise. But you and your family have sacrificed a lot for me. Hell, you gave me two weeks away from all of the bullshit."

I look at Shane when I say it, and he smiles back at me. If not for Russ running such amazing interference, we would've never met. I really hope they can sit down to a meal someday.

Russ' wife absolutely hated Jeremy, but I have a feeling she's going to love Shane.

"And I'm happy to do it," he says, "I just want you to know what you're getting into."

"Email me their offer and I'll look it over," I say, just wanting to get off the phone so I can celebrate.

"Well, here's the thing."

At first I don't hear the hesitation in his voice, but the silence that follows unsettles me.

"They want to make sure you're still fit to play. They're going to fly you out in a month to do a fitness test, and if you don't pass with flying colors, I don't think they're going to make a formal offer."

I let out a breath and follow it up with an incredulous laugh. "Seriously, you're worried about conditioning? Just send me a trainer; you know I'll put in the work."

"I do, and I'm sending one first thing tomorrow morning. But there's more to it than that," he says.

After that first "reveal," I don't have a whole lot of fear over what it could possibly be.

"They can't risk any big scandal," he says. "They want to make sure things quiet down and the focus stays on your career."

"Well yeah, I agree. Not planning on having another big scandal, Russ," I say a little testily.

"They don't want to take any chances, so their terms are no social media at all for the first six months, and then you'll be slowly reintegrated, under their supervision."

My brow creases at that, and for the first time since he told me, my happiness begins to lose a little bit of its hold.

"Social media's the best way for me to interact with fans."

"I told them that, and I'm going to push for you to have something, but they were pretty adamant about it."

An odd mix of emotions settle in me as I consider what this means. It's almost like unwrapping an amazing Christmas present, but being told you can't play with it with your best friend. Social media is a part of who I am as an athlete. I've been building up my Instagram account for years.

But… it's only temporary, right? Just six months without it, and once things calm down, I can't imagine the Armada being unreasonable. Especially if I'm performing for them.

"Russ, I need you to answer this next question honestly," I say, pausing for a moment to collect myself. "How likely am I to get another offer?"

Russ is silent for a time, and I already know the answer before he says it. "Not likely."

I turn my head away from the phone and let out a breath, my eyes falling momentarily closed. I shouldn't be surprised when Shane steps closer and puts his hand on my arm, rubbing in soothing circles, but it still touches me somewhere deep down.

"Send the trainer," I tell him after a moment.

There's hesitation there. It still doesn't feel as amazing as it felt when there weren't such heavy strings attached. But I'm getting another chance; another shot at what I was born to do after something that could have ended my career.

Russ and I say a little more to each other, but he hangs up soon after, wanting to book the flight for the trainer he's sending up to Glen Springs. Apparently the guy's worked with Olympic athletes before, and he can get me into the shape I need to be in despite how little time I have.

When I pull my phone away from my ear, Shane is looking at me expectantly.

"Well?"

A smile curls my lips because his interest seems genuine. "An IFL team wants to sign me."

I expect more of the grin he was giving me earlier, and I get it. Sort of. Something rings hollow in the expression, and I realize it's because it isn't reaching his eyes. His face scrunches a little when he really smiles, and it just isn't doing that right now.

I feel unsettled again, and I have no idea what to do about it. So I just opt for being honest.

"You don’t seem all that happy," I say.

Shane looks away and lets out a slow breath. It feels like a kick in the teeth, and for a split second I remember the way Jeremy reacted to my career news. He was never happy for me; for any of the goals I achieved. He said they took me away too much. I always thought he was being sweet, but I know now he was just selfish.

"I am, Trav." Warm green eyes look up at me, and I know he's telling the truth. "I know how much you want this. I just…"

He looks away from me and shakes his head, so I step closer to him, my hands on his arms.

"You can tell me," I say.

"It's stupid." He still isn't looking at me. "You and I… we aren't even…"

I gently grip his chin and tilt it up, forcing him to look at me. "Tell me, Shane."

"What does this mean for us?" he asks, finally lifting his eyes to mine. "If you go off to… wherever this team is, what happens to us?"

At first, something in me rebels. I hear Jeremy again, telling me I'm being selfish because I'm doing things outside of practice and games. Telling me I don't care about him because I'm not putting him first.

But Shane isn't Jeremy. They're nothing alike. Shane is a good, honest man, and what I hear in his words isn't an accusation.

It's fear.

"What do you want to happen to us?" I ask carefully.

He doesn't take that well, pulling away from me. "You're not baiting me into that, Travis. I'm putting myself out here, telling you I want more—"

"You haven't, though," I tell him, my own tone a little defensive. "You also haven't told me what 'more' means to you."

Shane may not be Jeremy, but I'm also not a mind reader. What we've had this past week has been amazing. And the attachment I feel for him is deeper than it has any right to be. But if he doesn't want anything more than a summer fling…

"More means… more," he says, gesturing. "More of this. More of you. I know it was stupid to think you'd stay here, but I guess I was hoping… I don't know. I was hoping the choice might be a little more difficult."

That pierces right through to my heart. It takes my breath away for a moment, and I try to process everything I'm feeling instead of just reacting like a wounded animal.

He wants me to stay here. Which means he wants something long term. Something more than a fling. My heart squeezes in my chest, even in the middle of this very uncomfortable conversation.

Knowing that somebody like Shane wants me, it means more than I can really say. He's the type of guy who doesn't need to be with someone; he can get by fine on his own. He's chosen me. He wants me.

And I can't help myself. My hands slide to his cheeks, framing his face as I press a tender kiss to his lips.

He's stiff for a moment, but eventually his mouth yields and he kisses me back, his fingers sliding into my hair, playing with the strands at the nape of my neck. We hold each other that way, face to face, and communicate without words. His kiss is a little desperate, and I try to make mine soothing. The last thing I want is for him to think he's losing me.

I draw back, though, because I know a kiss won't be enough. I need to say it.

"I have to take this chance," I say softly, resting my forehead against his.

"I know. I want you to. They should be bending over backwards to get you. You deserve it."

My lips quirk in a smile and my thumbs caress his face. "I don't want this to end. I know it'll be harder, but the IFL's season is shorter, and I won't have to do all the stuff I usually do with the press. I can come back here at least once a week."

Shane scoffs. "That's going to cost a fortune."

"It's worth it," I say without hesitation. My chest suddenly feels tight as my next words come to me. "I know it's only been a week, but I've never… I've never really felt this way about anyone before. I'm not going to fuck it up, Shane. Not for anything."

I can feel his intake of breath, and when his eyes widen slightly, I see everything he hasn't wanted to let himself hope for. He feels the same way. Maybe we haven't put a name to it yet, but I know he does.

"Good," he says, his voice a little rough. "Good."

His fingers curl at the nape of my neck and he pulls me down for a long, slow kiss, saying more than our words ever will.

Just a couple weeks ago, I was hit with two devastating losses on the same day. Now my heart feels more full than it's ever been, and I can only see it getting better from here.