They say all good things must come to an end. They say anything can happen any given Sunday.

But I’m not thinking about football as Miles, the trainer, becomes my crutch, taking me to the lower floor of the stadium where the team doctor waits. Harlan stays behind to play.

This is my biggest fear—a career-ending injury—and as the very real prospect of never playing football again hangs in the balance, a new terror races through me—the horror that I’ve royally fucked up.

I’m on the cusp of losing it all, watching everything I’ve worked for splinter to pieces, but I’ve forgotten one important thing—to tell my woman I love her before the game started.

I’m a great and terrible idiot.

“You doing okay, big guy?” Miles’s arm is under me. Hell, his whole upper frame is under me, since he’s probably all of five foot, nine inches.

“I’m okay. I didn’t need a cart to go off the field,” I say, since I can walk still. But everything hurts with every step. My muscles are sore. My bones ache. I ran into a truck, and it knocked me to the ground. Collings is made of titanium, and it hurt just as much to collide with him. I tread gingerly, carefully moving one foot in front of the other.

“You can do it. You’re going to be fine. We can figure this out,” he says, offering encouraging words, since that’s his job.

I have no idea what we’ll figure out. I have no idea if this is how Garrett felt when he was hit so hard his career ended, but I know one thing—the biggest mistake I made today wasn’t running all-out to the end zone.

It was half-assing things with the woman I love.

I was a dick. Cletus was right, and I hope to hell Jillian can forgive me like the little guy did.

“Slow down,” Miles says gently as we near the locker room.

“Was I walking faster?”

“You were. You need to take it easy. Don’t exacerbate anything. Okay?”

“Okay.” Then I add, “I’m okay.” This time it feels a little truer as we turn into the locker room.

One of the PTs is waiting with the doctor, and he offers to lift me onto the exam table, but I wave him off, hopping up there on my own power.

The bespectacled doctor gets to work quickly, cutting my football pants along the knee.

“Does this hurt?” The doctor wiggles my kneecap.

Oddly enough, it doesn’t hurt as much. I let my mind wander as he does his job, and maybe this is what it means to have an out-of-body experience, since I’m not feeling much pain any longer.

My mind circles again to Garrett, the picture of his little girl, the mention of his wife, the smile on his face.

A razor-sharp awareness zings through me, piercing my heart.

I was wrong.

Garrett might miss football, but his life is far from over.

His happiness is not dependent on the game. His heart is with his family. Friday morning, I only saw what I feared. I saw what was lost, not what he’d found.

But I see clearly now—he’s a man who has what matters most.

The doctor asks a question. I blink and make eye contact. “What did you say?”

“Does this hurt at all? Does anything hurt? You didn’t answer me.”

I look at the doctor. “I love her.”

He quirks up an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

Louder, in case he didn’t hear, I announce, “I love Jillian Moore. I want you to know, Doctor Miller.”

He laughs, his gray eyes twinkling through his glasses. “Did you hit your head, too, Jones?”

I shake my head.

“Let’s focus on one thing at a time, then.” He moves my ankle. “Does this hurt?”

Before I can answer, Ford bursts into the room in a flurry of Armani and wingtips.

“Dude, you can dress down for a game,” I say, laughing.

He glares at me. “Never. Also—”

“—I love Jillian,” I cut him off.

He shoots me a look like I’m high, waving a hand dismissively as he strides to the exam table. “Is he on morphine already?”

The doctor shakes his head. “Of course not.”

“Then what the hell is going on?”

I grab Ford’s arm, getting his attention till he looks me square in the eyes. “I’m in love with Jillian. All I care about right now is that you know that. Do you get it? I love her.”

“Sure. You love her. Okay, great.”

Another slam of the door, and Trevor strides in.

“Tell him,” I shout to Trevor, pointing at my big brother. “He knows! I told him the other night. Trevor, tell them I’m in love with Jillian.”

My brother stops in his tracks and laughs. “But how is your knee?”

I hold my arms out wide. “Do you people not get it? Listen to me. I. LOVE. HER.”

But they don’t get it. They look at me as if I’ve gone mad.

My heart stops when the most beautiful sight appears at the door. Long black hair, beautiful brown eyes, red cherry earrings. Tears stream down her face as she runs into the locker room. She races to me, puts her hand on my shoulder, and with concern asks point-blank, “Are you okay?”

I smile dopily, happiness whistling a happy tune inside me as I meet her eyes. “I love you. I love you so much I want everyone to know that I’m love with you.”

She dips her face closer. “Did you get hit on the head?”

“No! Why is everyone asking me that?”

Dr. Miller clears his throat. “Jones—”

I know what’s coming, so I slide off the table, landing on both feet without wincing. I take a few steps around the locker room, my arms out wide, showing off. “There? See? Everyone happy? It hardly hurts. My knee is fine. I can probably even run a mile right now.”

Dr. Miller and the PT each grab hold of an arm before I can show them my speed.

“No,” the doctor says sharply. “No running.”

I shake them off and walk the few feet. I stop at Jillian, cup her cheeks, and say once more, “I’m in love with you.” I plant a kiss on her lips. She kisses me back, so softly, so tenderly it makes me tremble.

We break the kiss, and I spin around. “My knee is fine, and I love this woman. Do you all hear that?” I stare at each and every person in the locker room. “She is mine. I’m with her. We’re together. I’m going to take her to dinner and kiss her in public. I’m going to the movies with her, and I’m going to hold her hand. I’m going to spend the night at her house and leave in the morning. I’m not going to hide.”

I turn back to her, my words for her now. “I want a career, I want deals, and I want to play for a long time, but I want you more. I should’ve told you last night. I should have told you the night before. I should have sent more than two texts. I should have called Ford yesterday, and I didn’t because I was afraid of losing everything. I was scared of this very thing happening, but once it happened, I realized you’re what I can’t afford to lose. Even if the deals all fall apart. Even if this ends today. I’m not going to give up loving you for any of those things, and I’m sorry it took me getting clocked to see the light, but sometimes it takes—”

“Man-time,” she supplies with a smile. Tears slide down her cheeks, but they sure as hell look like happy tears now. “It took you man-time.”

I laugh. “Yeah, I suppose it did. Do you forgive me?”

She runs a hand through my hair. “That’s already done.”

I grab her, pulling her close, lifting her up and then kissing her once more. When I set her down, I’m greeted by slow claps from the audience. “See? They’re happy I love you.”

Jillian shrugs. “I think they’re happy because you walked and you lifted me, even though ten minutes ago you were wincing in pain.”

I look down at my knee. “Holy shit. It doesn’t hurt anymore. She’s a miracle worker.”

The doctor laughs, then clears his throat. “Be that as it may, we still need X-rays.”

“Listen to the doctor, Jones,” Jillian says. “Go.”

“Don’t leave?”

She crosses her arms. “I’m not going anywhere.”

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Dr. Miller studies the X-ray film and makes his declaration. “You’re one of the lucky ones. Sometimes you fall and you fracture your tibial plateau. Sometimes you tear your ACL, and sometimes it hurts like hell when you get clobbered and it turns out to be nothing.”

“This is nothing?”

He nods. “This is nothing. Right now, I see no reason why you can’t play next weekend. But come back tomorrow to check in, and you know the drill for tonight – ibuprofen and ice if you need it.”

As I leave with Ford and Jillian, I tell my agent once more, “I’m not having a secret relationship with this woman any longer. I’m having a relationship that’s out in the great wide open, and that’s exactly where I want to be with her. We need to tell Liam.”

“Tell him yourself. He’s chatting with your parents.”

We find them on the field, and my mom clasps me in a big hug, reaching up to circle her arms around me. “They told us you were going to be fine. Thank God.” Her voice is laced with the relief that I suppose only a mom can ever feel this deeply. Liam takes a few steps away, giving us space.

“I’m great, Mom. I’m all good.”

We separate, and she pats my chest. “You be careful.” Her blue eyes are fierce and full of love.

“Mom, I want you to meet someone.” I squeeze Jillian’s arm, and she smiles at my mom. “This is Jillian Moore. She works for the team. She’s my girlfriend. Can she come over for dinner sometime?”

My mom freezes for a moment, then turns to Jillian and shakes her hand. “You’re welcome anytime, sweetheart.”

“So great to meet you. And thank you, Mrs. Beckett. I’m looking forward to it.”

My mom swivels her attention to me, wagging a finger. “And thanks for telling me you had a girlfriend.”

I shrug happily. “Everyone is kind of finding out at the same time. But I’ve wanted to introduce her to you for a long time.”

“Good. Now, let’s have you meet his father,” my mom says to Jillian then takes her to meet my dad.

Ford brings Liam to my side, and my agent’s voice is deep and firm. “I believe you gentlemen have some things to chat about, and I’m happy to help.”

“Thanks. I can take it from here,” I tell him, since this is my job—to man up. Like my dad taught me—success on the field is about talent and effort, but also luck. This is the effort part.

I look at Liam and waste no time. “I’m dating Jillian. I love her. And if that causes a problem with the contract, I’m sorry. Please know I enjoyed working with you. But I love this woman.”

Liam blinks, surprise registering in his eyes. He’s quiet at first, scratching his jaw, swinging his gaze down the field. He takes a breath then turns his attention back to me. He hooks his thumb over his shoulder. “I met your parents.”

“Good to hear,” I say, not sure why he’s mentioning what I already know.

“They’re good people.”

I smile. “They are.”

“Your mom couldn’t stop talking about how worried she was about you, but how she knew you were going to be okay.”

“Yeah?”

Liam nods. “She said she watched the replay over and over. Said it was like a fall you took in high school, but you walked that off, too.”

“Those are the best kinds of falls.”

He’s silent again, and I have the impression he’s the type of man who’s fine with the quiet. Who takes time to process. When he speaks again, his words surprise me. “I see you introduced Jillian to your parents.”

“I did,” I say, then add, “sir,” because he feels like one right now.

He laughs lightly as he tucks his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “And you invited her to dinner at their home.”

Damn, he has good ears.

“I bet that’s not something you’ve done a lot before.”

I shake my head. “Never.”

He rocks onto the balls of his feet. “Listen, Jones. I appreciate you telling me about Jillian now, before it gets out. It’s always good to know these things. You can never be too careful these days. With the climate we operate in, we’ve both seen how brands and companies have to be sensitive about the slightest things—a wrong comment here, a remark out of context there, something that sounds far too insensitive . . .”

His observation is spot-on, and exactly why I’ve been cautious with Jillian. But it’s his turn to speak, not mine. So I wait.

He heaves a sigh. “But you’re in love with her, and I don’t have the sense you’re going to go carousing down Fillmore Street with a bottle of Jack Daniels before you screw her in an alley, to be frank.”

I jerk my head back, startled by his bluntness. “No, I don’t plan to do that.”

He claps my shoulder. “Just keep doing things the right way. Be good to her, treat your fans well, and keep loving on that pooch of yours. That’s all I can ask for. If you do that, we’ll keep doing business together.”

My muscles relax, and I smile. I was willing to let him go. More than willing if I had to, and maybe that’s the biggest reason he’s keeping me. “Count on it.”

He nods. “I will.” He screws up the corner of his lips, as if he’s thinking. “Also, I’m happy for you. You chose well.”

“Thank you. I think so, too.”

* * *

A little while later, I tug Jillian close and whisper in her ear, “Come home with me tonight.”

She arches an eyebrow. “That’s presumptuous of you.”

“I’ll make it worth your while. Presumably.”

And I do. I make it very worth her while indeed.

Three times, in fact, including once with her bent over the bed. Yeah, my knee is just fine. Sometimes, I suppose your luck doesn’t run out after all.