Present Day

I was supposed to be helping to choose new recruits for my Florida Sharks professional football team but all I couldn’t help getting a little bit sappy. Watching athletes right before they hit the prime of their career was inspiring. But it also made me nostalgic, reminiscent. And still a little fucking heartbroken.

I was at the Sharks’ Training Facility, watching the training session for the rookies. They trained at night when we were done using the fields. Coach Rudi Thompson stood next to me, and we both took notes on the new recruits.

“They’re fit enough,” Coach said with a growl in his voice. “That’s for damn sure.”

I chuckled. “That’s because every time they mess up, Coach Donald makes them run laps.”

Coach Rudi shrugged. “It works. They learn that way. I should do it more with the rest of you. You’re all too cocky for your own good. That’s the problem.”

I laughed. “Shit, we’re doing cardio outside of training sessions enough as it is, thank you very much.”

Coach grinned, but the grin didn’t last long.

“What do you see?” I asked.

Coach shook his head. “It’s what I’m not seeing. I don’t see a hell of a lot potential among these guys,” he said. “What am I supposed to do when someone retires?”

He had a point. Every now and then, we needed to pull someone from the B teams and C teams. They weren’t anything special yet. They played games just like we did, but they weren’t nearly as popular. Once a player was good enough and we had space, they’d get moved up to the real team.

“We’ll see what they’re worth in their game, tomorrow,” I said.

The Sharks were off for a while. When that happened, we took time to watch the other teams’ games. We learned from them, we laughed at them, and we scouted from them. It was a team effort.

I played running back for the team, and I was damn good at what I did. I was one of the best players on the field. That might sound like vanity to some people, but it was the honest truth. I enjoyed what I did. I’d played for the Hurricanes for my college team and worked my way up to professional status with the Sharks soon after.

I’d dreamed about making it to this level ever since I was a little kid. Now that I was living the dream, my life was almost perfect.

Almost.

There were definitely holes in my life where things were missing. Love, a relationship, companionship. It was something I tried not to think about most of the time, and when I did, I told myself I didn’t want or need any of that bullshit. I played pro ball and nothing was supposed to get me down. Especially girlie crap like that.

I know that since I’m not in a relationship, I should be able to fuck around with whoever I want. My best friend Hanson used to tell me I should be like him, on the prowl for one-night stands and cheap fucking, because I could. There was a time when he was like that and would want me to go hunting for fresh pussy together, but he had gone and settled down, by dating Lacey and then marrying her.

The man was happier than I’d seen him in a long time. He deserved it. He’d pulled his life together, and he and Lacey had just had a baby. And he’d helped me a lot along the way. Especially one time when I really needed it.

So maybe now that Hanson had Lacey, he understood why I had just never been into playing the field. It seemed empty and meaningless, whereas what he and Lacey had— and what I used to have— was something that lasted and was more permanent. Or at least, that’s how it was supposed to be.

There was a time, just after Hanson had met Lacey, that I’d felt sick to my stomach thinking that I would never have the happily ever after I deserved. Now I could be happy for them, like a man should be for his best friend, but I couldn’t help but think of everything I myself had lost. Nor could I seem to let go of worry that I would never find anything like it again, because I couldn’t seem to stop focusing on the fucking past.

Once upon a time, I was certain I would have my own happily ever after. You always do when you have a woman on your arm and you see your future in her eyes. But I was young and stupid and that had been a long time ago. I was the new and improved version of me, trying hard to put idealist hopes behind me and become impervious to love. I wouldn’t allow myself to be heartbroken ever again.

The wind blew, warm and noticeable, the way Florida wind never really gets cold. I breathed in, and I could taste the ocean on the tip of my tongue. There was something about living this close to water that made me feel at home. Whenever I was inland, traveling with the team, I felt antsy until I got back to the coast.

I looked around the field, losing interest in the practice session. It was just a bunch of repeat exercises, and I had done so many of them myself it had made me sick.

The cheerleaders were training to the side of the field. Slender, flexible women did tricks that made me wonder what they could do in the bedroom if they could bend like that. I could think of a few ways to spend the night with one of them. They wore short shorts that left just enough to the imagination to make me think of sex, and tops that bared their stomachs.

They were every man out here today’s wet dream. By the looks of it, they had more attention than the guys on the field. In fact, the players were sneaking glances toward the cheerleaders as well. But even though I liked to look, thanks to my past, I never could seem to bring myself to give all of me to any girl no matter how hot she was.

“Alright, ladies,” a familiar voice said.

I whipped my head around, trying to look for the woman it had come from.

Could it be her? Could it really fucking be her?

“Take five, have some water. Then right back at it.”

I shivered.

The women jogged off. I scanned them, looking for the owner of that voice. It had tugged at something very deep inside me, but I couldn’t place it. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a little voice warned me that I didn’t want to know, either, but I shoved it away.

I needed to know who that voice belonged to.

The ladies returned to the field a few minutes later and lined up to do their routine again. Sexy bodies all in a row, but I most definitely wasn’t interested. What tiny spark of arousal I had had from looking at them was overtaken by the fact that I thought I had just heard her.

“Ready?” that same voice shouted. “Let’s go!”

I took a step or two closer to the cheerleaders. My eyes fell on their coach, and I realized that it really was her.

Sadie Anderson.

Fuck, I knew it was her voice. I should have listened to the little voice telling me not to find the owner of it, but, instead I listened to the stupid part of me that couldn’t help but do exactly that.

Now that I knew, I couldn’t push it all away again. There Sadie was, facing the cheerleaders. A dream. A nightmare.

Her raven hair was pulled back against her head into a ponytail. I couldn’t see her eyes from here, but they were burned into my memory. Gray, like a stormy sky. Slate when she was angry. Her body was taut and muscular. Sexy as fuck. She’d always been a cheerleader with raw talent for anything athletic.

It was interesting to see that after everything, she still ended up being part of that world. It’s funny how some things you could forget as if it never happened, and other things were ingrained into your very being forever.

Sadie was the one who got away. She was the woman who I had thought I would spend the rest of my life with. She’d been my high school sweetheart. We had taken each other’s virginity. She had been everything to me.

And then she had forgotten about me. Literally.

I took a deep breath and tried to forget about her all over again. But I was the unlucky son of a bitch that remembered everything, no matter how much I wanted to forget.

I always told myself— and I tried very hard to convince myself then while staring at Sadie standing there— that maybe I could forget her, the way she had forgotten me. But no, I wouldn’t want that. If I forgot, I would be in danger of repeating the same heartache again. And I wasn’t sure I would be able to survive that. I’d barely survived it the first time, all those years ago. 

I sometimes didn’t know if I held myself back from being with other women because I could never love anyone the way I had loved Sadie, and, admittedly, still fucking do, or whether it was because if I was able to find someone like Sadie, I felt sure that something would inevitably happen to take her away from me, just like what happened with Sadie. I really hadn’t ever wanted to find out the answer. But now, looking at her, I realize that my heart is still dying to know.

The memory of what happened on Prom night was so vivid, I felt the horror, the agony, all over again. I watched Sadie now as she walked back and forth, correcting the cheerleaders’ stances. This was torture. Dammit, I should just have turned around and left.

As if she could feel my eyes on her, she slowly turned. Her eyes were gray, the color of the sky when it was overcast. I didn’t let her eyes meet mine before I looked away.