Within an hour, it seemed to Jake like half the town had descended on the toy drive, and soon the whole building was packed with noise and laughter. Someone brought a well-worn collection of swingin’ holiday classics, someone else pitched in a CD player, and more volunteers showed up with snacks and drinks, until he couldn’t move for festive cheer. Franny was testing out her eggnog recipe, and even Debra held court from a chair in the corner, her ankle propped up on a cushion with the cast covered in bright signatures.

“Not bad,” Debra said, looking around approvingly. “I was worried you’d drop the ball on the planning, what with all your other distractions.”

Jake didn’t have to ask which particular distraction she meant; Mackenzie was over manning one of the wrapping stations, swathing toy baseball kits in sparkly wrapping paper, with tabs of tape stuck to the side of her face.

“Just trying to live up to your good example,” Jake replied instead.

Debra snorted. “Would you believe I actually miss it?” she asked. “I’m going stir-crazy waiting to get this damn cast off. I can’t imagine how you must be feeling with your knee.”

“I’m getting by,” he said noncommittally. He was frustrated with his slow progress, too, but any progress at all was welcome after such a long time out of shape.

“So you’ll be wanting to get back to the team, I expect?”

That was Debra for you, she didn’t even try to disguise her loaded questions. Jake glanced over at Mackenzie again. “That’s the plan.”

“Still?”

Jake shot her a look. “As far as I know.”

“Hmm.” Debra didn’t seem satisfied with that response, but it was the only one she was getting. For now, Jake was going to focus on what was right in front of him. Like four dozen gifts that were awaiting gift wrap, and a woman in need of kissing.

He joined Mackenzie at the table just as Riley and Brooke arrived with their own bags of toys, and a steaming jug of mulled wine.

“Look at you!” Brooke admired Mackenzie’s handiwork. “Any time you want to come wrap wedding favors at the hotel, just give me a call.”

Mackenzie shook her head. “Oh no, I know your Bridezillas. They’d set their bridesmaids after me if I folded the party favors wrong.”

“I wish you were exaggerating.” Brooke winced. “But we just had a wedding this weekend, and I swear, the bride had the whole day timed down to the minute. She cut off her father’s toast with an alarm!”

Riley gave Jake an amused look over the women’s heads. “So, how about them Yankees?”

Jake sucked in a breath. “You don’t say that name in this town. We’re all born dyed-in-the-wool Red Sox fans.”

“My bad.” Riley grinned. “And the Patriots? Or are you still loyal to the home team?”

“I haven’t been watching recently,” Jake admitted. “I tape every game, but I can’t bring myself to turn it on. I second-guess everything. You know, the plays I’d make, the interceptions . . .”

“That’s got to be rough,” Riley agreed. “But it looks like you’re on the mend. I saw you out running this morning. Looking good.”

“We’ll see.” Jake found himself answering vaguely again. He understood why they were all asking, it was only out of friendly concern, but still, something in him bridled from the questions, a reflex from all the months he’d spent wondering if his reply would ever be good.

He was more optimistic now. Hell, the way his rehab was coming along, he was pretty damn hopeful. But that didn’t mean he wanted to jinx it, not until the day he was back in uniform, throwing that perfect pass.

“What are you guys doing?” Mackenzie slipped under his arm and smiled up at them. “Don’t tell me you’re still scoring manly points talking about sports?”

“You can score a ribbon or two instead, you know,” Brooke agreed. “We won’t think any less of you.”

“Scoring what now?” Riley looked confused.

The women laughed. “Maybe not.”

They kept talking, about the hotel and the gallery and their big holiday plans. Jake took a mug of mulled wine and looked around the room. Mackenzie, his old friends, the town . . . He was hit with a sudden sense of belonging that took him by surprise.

This had always been his home, right here, and all the years away hadn’t changed a thing.

Except Mackenzie.

She was laughing along to something Riley said, her expression bright. She saw him watching her, and gave him a cheeky smile.

He could see it in an instant, a lifetime spent just like this. Waking up to that smile and falling asleep to the steady sound of her heartbeat, with long days of laughter and easy conversation in between.

Jake looked away, shaken. What the hell was he thinking? He’d always known exactly what the future held: a full recovery and then a trip back south to take his rightful position on the team.

But where did Mackenzie fit into that plan?

“Yo, man, how’s it going?”

Jake stumbled forwards as an unexpected slap came down hard on his shoulder. It was Moose, with a grin on his face and a slice of pizza in his other hand. “Don’t worry, I’m not here to fight you.”

Jake was still off balance from his thoughts, and he looked at Moose blankly.

“Over our girl, Mac.” Moose winked. “No hard feelings, bro. All’s fair in love and war.”

“Uh, sure,” Jake said. “Thanks.”

“Anyway, I figured you two would get it together eventually,” Moose continued, leaning past him to grab another slice of pizza from the table. He sandwiched the two slices together and took a bite. “I mean, everyone knew she was in love with you back then.”

Jake shook his head. “No, we were just friends.”

Moose snorted with laughter. “Sure, you were. But Mac was panting after you like a dog in heat. Isn’t that right, babe?”

Jake turned. Mackenzie was standing right behind them, with the strangest expression on her face. “Hey,” he said, relieved. “You’re just in time, tell Moose he’s full of crap. He’s got some crazy idea you had a crush on me in high school.”

Mackenzie blinked. For a split second, her face changed, then she laughed. “That is crazy,” she said loudly. “Please. I had better taste—no offense.”

Moose chortled along, but something made Jake keep watching her. Her cheeks flushed, and she met his eye for a moment before quickly glancing away.

And just like that, he knew.

It was true.

Despite her laughter and deflection, Moose had somehow stumbled onto the truth that Jake had somehow been too blind to see.

She’d been in love with him?

All this time?

“So, what did you bring for the toy drive?” Mackenzie was asking Moose brightly, as Jake tried to reassess everything he thought he remembered about their friendship.

“We were supposed to bring something? Aww, sorry. I just thought it was a party.”

Jake spoke up. “Why don’t you pick something out from the pile and get it wrapped.” He gave Moose a look, and for the first time in his life, the other man took a hint.

“Cool, see you guys.” Moose strolled away, and they were left alone.

Jake drew Mackenzie aside, into a quiet corner. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

“What? No,” she protested. “That’s just Moose. The guy spent most of high school drunk or high. Or both.”

“Mac . . .” Jake searched her face again, and Mackenzie’s pretense finally slipped.

“Fine. It’s true.”

“But, you had that secret boyfriend.” Jake thought back, reeling. “You were hooking up with him. Someone saw you guys on prom night.”

“They saw me.” Mackenzie exhaled, looking reluctant. “There was no other guy. I was going to tell you how I felt. Only, I heard you talking to your friends, about how you would never touch me. I had to climb out your bedroom window, and my dress got caught, and . . .” She gave a self-conscious shrug. “It was easier just to let everyone think the other story.”

Jake tried to process the revelation. “So all that time, hanging out . . . I don’t understand,” he said, feeling like he just got hit by a truck. “You never said a thing.”

Mackenzie looked away. “There was no point. I knew you didn’t feel the same way.”

Jake blinked. He’d always thought back to their friendship as some rock-solid thing, but now it was shifting, and he didn’t even know how to begin to feel about it.

“It’s not a big deal,” Mackenzie said quickly. “Really. It was just a crush. You went off to college, and I moved on, too. I didn’t even think twice about it until I saw you on Halloween, and then, well . . . Like I said, it’s ancient history.”

But this wasn’t. Whatever was happening between them now was more real than ever, and somehow, knowing that Mackenzie’s feelings had run so deep sent Jake’s head spinning.

“Jake?” Mackenzie looked at him anxiously. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, but I didn’t want to make it into some big thing.” She paused. “Are we OK?”

“Sure, we’re fine.” Jake leaned in and dropped a kiss on her lips. But he wasn’t. He felt a strange burn: tension, coiled in his muscles, needing to get out. “Are you OK finishing up here?” he asked Mackenzie.

“Why?” She blinked, looking uneasy. “Are you leaving? I told you, Moose is making this a much bigger deal than it really was.”

“No, it’s not that. I forgot to do my rehab exercises today,” he lied, hating himself even as the excuse slipped effortlessly from his lips. “My physio said I shouldn’t miss a day.”

“Of course.” Mackenzie reached up and kissed his cheek. “You go, take whatever time you need. There are plenty of people here to give me a hand.”

“Thanks.”

Jake felt like a traitor, slipping out early with the sound of the party still going strong behind him. He headed home to change into his workout gear, and then hit the road, jogging a steady loop out through the woods and along the outskirts of town.

He’d already run a couple of miles this morning at a punishing pace, and the doctor had warned him to take it slow, but Jake couldn’t just sit around for the rest of the night, not with all these new questions spinning in his mind. Mackenzie, their history, and where the hell he was going to go from here.

It used to be so simple.

Train. Play. Let off some steam after the game, sure, but then start the whole cycle again come five a.m. Monday morning. The past ten years of his life were devoted to the same thing. Be better. Stronger. Faster. And damn, if he hadn’t smashed those goals every time.

But what else did he have to show for it?

Jake picked up the pace, his footsteps slapping on the frozen sidewalks. It was easy to feel like a success down in Miami, where he and his teammates were treated like royalty at every bar and club in town. But here, where his sporting achievements were far away? It was harder to ignore the fact he’d built his entire life around the game—leaving barely any room for anything else.

Family. Community.

Love.

Looking back now, Jake felt like a fool not to have noticed Mackenzie’s feelings. Sure, they were just kids, but there must have been signs.

But even if he had known, what difference would it have made?

None—then. But now?

Would he have been more careful with her feelings? Would he have stayed away, knowing the stakes were something real?

Maybe he should have, but if he was honest with himself, Jake knew, nothing could have kept him away. The connection between them had been undeniable, from that very first night. Everything they’d shared as teenagers only made that stronger: the trust and ease between them was the reason why the rest of it was so damn good.

He hadn’t known it could be like this.

Jake stopped, breathing hard. He tried to block the thoughts whirling in his mind, and all these new questions that he was nowhere near ready to answer.

On a whim, he detoured via the old high school. It was closed, of course, after-hours, but he could see the lights of the football field still lit, and when he came closer, he saw Coach Wilson out beneath the goalposts, watching the gangly team throw drills. He was always a taskmaster, making them practice long hours after school.

Jake strolled over. “Hey.”

Wilson turned and took in Jake’s workout gear. “Docs gave you the all-clear, huh?”

“Just some gentle training,” Jake said evasively. “So, this is your current crop?”

“For my sins.” Coach looked back at the field, then let out a yell. “Pick those feet up, Kyle! Come on, keep the pace.”

Jake cast an assessing eye over the kids on the field. There were some steady arms out there, a couple of solidly built guys too, who he knew would make the difference when it came to blocking interceptions. Then one of the guys fell back, further than the rest of them, all the way to the SOMETHING YARD LINE. He gestured for his partner to go long, then arched back his arm and threw a spiraling pass so far and swift that Jake whistled in admiration.

“Yeah, that’s the kid I was telling you about,” Coach said, following his gaze. “Billy Taylor. He’s always been fast, but he got a growth spurt this year, shot up. Six-two now and counting.”

“That’s good.” Jake nodded. Build mattered for the pros, and while you could bulk up in the gym, there was no creating those extra inches of height out of thin air. “How are his reflexes?”

“Could be better.” Coach watched the field with eagle eyes. “But the kid’s got no discipline. Some days, he brings it; others, he doesn’t even try. Remind you of anyone?” he added.

Jake chuckled. “Give the kid a break. When you’re seventeen, it all seems like a game.”

“Well, this game could get him a free ride to college—if he buckles down and works for it. His family could use the break, too,” Coach added. “A scholarship might be his only shot.”

Jake watched the lanky teenager as Coach blew his whistle, breaking up the practice. The rest of the team jogged for the sidelines to retrieve their things and leave, but Billy stayed out there, collecting footballs and practicing his throw. One of the footballs came bouncing nearby, and Jake scooped it up, strolling out to meet him.

“Nice arm,” he said by way of greeting. Billy was even skinnier up close, with a shock of blonde hair and a wary, cocky look.

“You’re Jake Sullivan,” he said, looking Jake up and down.

“That’s right.”

“My mom says you fumble too many interceptions.”

Jake laughed. “Does she now? I’d like to see her hold on tight with five two-hundred-pound linebackers racing straight for her.”

Billy grinned. “She supports the Packers, so what does she know?”

Jake rocked the ball from side to side. “Want to show me your moves?” he said, suddenly tossing it straight to Billy’s face.

The kid’s hands came up fast, stopping it a split second before it broke his nose. “Hey!” he protested, but Jake was already walking away.

“Try the YARD LINE,” he called. “And get your elbow up, it’ll help with the height.”

Billy jogged down the field, into position. He wound up and threw long, the ball arcing in an elegant snap that made it easy for Jake to catch.

Jake was impressed. He returned the ball, and Billy sent it back again. Jake mixed up the next passes, making Billy run for it, testing his reflexes and hands.

The kid had talent. Raw, for sure, but his instincts were there.

He spiraled it hard and wide, and Billy missed the catch. He went to retrieve the ball, and when he sent it back, it was mimicking Jake’s throw: mean, and wide. Jake broke into a sprint, closing the distance and plucking the ball out of the air, the way he had a thousand times before. He landed hard, weight on his right foot, and suddenly, pain jarred through his knee.

Jake gasped, bent double, and almost collapsed to the ground. It was white hot and shattering, and for a moment, the pain consumed him so much he could barely breathe.

Goddamnit.

“Hey, man.” Billy jogged over. “Are you OK?”

Jake nodded, fighting to catch his breath. “I’m fine,” he lied, even as the pain throbbed—that familiar agony he’d thought was behind him for good.

This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t, not after all his months of recovery.

Fear gripped him, and it took everything he had to force himself up. He took a cautious step.

The pain shattered him all over again.

“Let me go longer next time.” Billy was still chatting eagerly. “I think I’ve got it down now.”

“Next time,” Jake said, gritting his teeth to keep from cursing out loud. “I need to call it a night. But good work.”

“Thanks.” Billy smiled at him. “I can really feel the difference, with my elbow.”

Jake nodded wordlessly, limping for the sidelines. Every step was agony, but he didn’t have a choice. What else was he going to do: fall to the ground in the middle of the frozen field and lay there for the rest of the night?

Next time, you won’t be so lucky.

His doctor’s words echoed in his mind. God, what had he just done?

“You want a ride?” Billy was eyeing him warily. “I’ve got my truck out front.”

“Thanks,” Jake ground out, and gave him the address. It wasn’t until he was sitting in the cab with the weight off his knee that he could finally exhale. The memories came flooding back, all those agonizing hours recovering from surgery, the weeks he’d spent doing battle with the walker and cane.

Had he just pushed himself all the way back to square one again?

The fear turned thick and ice-cold, and he didn’t even notice the drive until they pulled up outside the barn.

“When can we practice again?” Billy asked eagerly.

“I’ll see.” Jake tried not to be angry at him. It wasn’t the kid’s fault, after all. He was the one who’d had to catch that pass, to prove himself. For what? “Just focus on regular practice for now. Coach knows what he’s talking about. You’d do worse than listen to him.”

“Fine,” Billy sighed, every inch the sullen teenager. “I guess I could give the old man a shot.”

Jake carefully eased down out of the truck and was relieved to find he could manage a slow limp. The screaming pain had dimmed to a throb, and he found his footing again, slowly climbing the front porch to the door. Inside, he grabbed a couple of ice packs and slid to the floor, trying to keep the panic at bay.

This was just a hiccup, he told himself. It had to be. Pain was the body’s way of getting stronger, wasn’t that what they always said?

Still, he couldn’t keep his doubts from flooding his mind. Like, if he wasn’t even ready to toss a ball around with an amateur, then how was he supposed to take on a pro game filled with brutal hits and guys who wouldn’t think twice about taking him to the ground?

For the first time, it dawned that it wasn’t just about him and getting his own game back in shape. There was a team out there: a board of moving pieces that could all work in perfect harmony—or send him crashing out on the wrong pass because someone sent him reaching too far, stopping too short, or landing on just the wrong angle.

He’d always been a fearless player, that was part of his strength. But trying to imagine himself out there, in the middle of a game, it made his chest clench with fear instead of hope.

One bad tackle. One wrong landing. That’s all it would take to bring him down again. And if that happened . . . would he ever get up again?

Jake took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. For months now, his biggest fear had been that he might never make it onto the field again. But now, for the first time, another question loomed larger, just as terrifying.

What would happen after he got back out there?