I probably shouldn’t have lured her here under false pretenses, but Ryan had said he wanted to help and I couldn’t deny a sick kid his right to watch true love blossom. Right?

“What did you tell her, again?” I bounced up and down, too much adrenaline rushing through my veins.

I was a grown man. I didn’t get nervous. Not in front of thousands of people, and not in crucial games that had everything riding on them.

But when it came to Demi these days, I was a sweating ball of stress.

“I told her that there was a charity flag football game I was competing in, and I wanted her to come.” His toothy smile makes me laugh, and I fist bump him for being a sneaky little genius.

“I mean, it’s not a total lie. You are playing a flag football game. It just isn’t for charity and we won’t be joining you. Although, I love hanging out with you, buddy.”

Ryan tosses me the football, glancing over his shoulder at where the game is happening. A couple dozen kids from his school throw around, getting their flag belts all hooked on. It makes me happy that even though he’s going through one of the toughest things anyone could ever imagine, especially at that age, that he still feels good enough to come out and play. He’s one hell of a special person.

“As long as you send me the jersey we were talking about. And tickets to the playoff game.” Ryan does a little dance and I laugh.

“You drive a hard bargain, but you know I’d happily do it even if you weren’t being a great wingman right now.”

Just then, Ryan runs forward a little, his skinny legs doing a jitterbug. I look across the park, which is packed on an exceptionally nice Saturday, and there she is.

Out of all of the hundreds of humans gallivanting in the grass right now, my eyes can’t see a thing but her. Demi has always been the prettiest girl in the room, and her beauty has only increased in the time I’ve been away from her.

She walks toward Ryan, waving and happy, until she sees me standing just a few feet over from him. Then her expression turns to a scowl, and she shakes her head at me.

“Really? You used the kid?” Demi bends down to hug Ryan, but speaks to me, her brown eyes all disapproval.

I hold up my hands, innocent. “Hey, it was his idea.”

Ryan releases her. “It was, technically. Now, I gotta go. Have a romantic lunch.” He winks at her. “Give him a chance, he L-O-V-E-S you.”

We both laugh at his spelling of the word, and I run a hand through my hair as she blushes.

A few beats go by before I speak. “Well, this isn’t awkward.”

Demi is standing in front of me, and I can see she is unsure if she should stay. “Well, you got me here.”

“Yes, and thank you for coming. And staying, when you saw that it was in fact the asshole trying to woo you and not the cute kid who you adore.” I motion to the spread on the ground. “I’ve made us a picnic. A lunchtime, no expectations, no pressure, picnic.”

Demi’s mouth curves into a small smile. “Okay, Casanova. I’ll stay. But only as long as I can eat all the prosciutto.”

She eyes the cheese plate I’ve put on the checkered blanket, and I can practically see her mouth water.

What the hell would my brother, or my teammates, say about me planning a romantic picnic? They’d call me whipped, is what they’d say. They should have seen me researching how to pack a picnic basket, and looking up the best charcuterie ingredients. I thought my dick was going to just about fall off. But I was too concerned with picking the perfect finger sandwiches and stemless wine glasses to care.

It was a good thing I’d spent my money on basically nothing and no one in five years, because I’d bought the best of everything for my one shot at convincing Demi to give this a real chance. I’d even flown in some fancy wine from Italy that one of the defensive linemen, Jared Jones, had recommended.

“Did you get home in time for your dog the other night?” I sit down, pouring out glasses and unpacking more food out of the basket.

In the distance, parents cheer for the children playing in Ryan’s game and we glance over.

Demi’s eyes trace back to me slowly, and she picks up the glass I set down in front of her. “I did, although she took twenty minutes to go to the bathroom and I could have strangled her. But at the same time, she is the most adorable thing since sliced bread, so …”

I chuckle. “Didn’t realize sliced bread was adorable.”

She rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“How old is she?” I set out the food, and take a risk by making her a plate.

I must have picked correctly, because she doesn’t make a snarky comment or roll her eyes, just simply starts nibbling at the spread I’ve given her. Inside, I pump my fist and pretend to put one mark on the board in my favor.

It’s clear that Demi loves her dog, by the way her eyes light up and a small smile touches her full lips. “Maya is three, a golden retriever who loves grilled cheese sandwiches and watching rainstorms through my sliding glass door.”

“Wow, sounds like my perfect match on a dating website. Is she single?” I pop an olive in my mouth and realize how hungry I am.

I was so nervous, that I think I forgot to eat breakfast this morning. And maybe dinner last night. Which for an athlete, is unheard of. I usually consume about five thousand calories a day, and that is a strictly tailored diet of protein, carbs and healthy greens. I’m straying from that during this picnic, but the food was expensive and tastes delicious. And I’d been good my entire career, always following everything to the letter to improve my performance. Now that I was near the end, I could feel myself slipping.

Not just in my diet and exercise habits, but in my personal life as well. I could feel my slide into normalcy, descending from the mountain of champions and stardom to a mortal who would go on dates, mow the lawn, learn how to make pancakes for my kids on a Sunday morning. I couldn’t wait for those things. As much as it was bittersweet that this would be my last season, a fact I hadn’t told many people or announced in the media, I was ready in a way. Ready to become a normal guy, living in the suburbs, letting something bigger than sports or fame dictate and consume me. Letting love, hopefully, consume me.

“She lays down with dogs, but even you are too big of a dog for her.” Demi smiles, and I know that she’s only half-joking. “So, do you like being back in Charlotte?”

The first question she’s asked me that isn’t laced with malice or that rhetorical quality as if she doesn’t really care about the answer.

I look at her, really look at her. And again, I want to mentally kick myself in the balls. Not realistically, because that fucking hurts, but I’m such a moron for treating this girl the way I did all those years ago.

Clearing my throat, because I realize Demi is looking at me like I have three heads, I stop staring so hard and answer her. “It’s a blast from the past, in more ways than one. I’ll find myself walking down a street, or driving through a certain neighborhood, and remember peeing behind a bush I see on the side of the road. I did a lot of dumb, drunk things here in my youth. So, I guess it’s fun to remember, but also strange for this old man.”

“Old man? You’re thirty, Pax.”

My nickname coming off of her lips makes my stomach dip. “In the league, that is ancient. I guess playing football, you always think of yourself as older than you actually are. These young hotshots come in there, their balls barely dropped and walking around like they own the fucking planet. Meanwhile, I’m icing my back after every tackle and taking multivitamins. You should see my pill container, it’s like I’m in a nursing home.”

That makes her laugh, the sound akin to angels flying, or puppies barking, or something equally as cute. “Well, I think that old dogs are wiser, and can be more handsome.”

Tilting my head, I move in a little closer. “Demi Rosen, are you flirting with me?”

She doesn’t pull away, those long eyelashes fluttering in a slow blink. “I must have forgotten to take my meds this morning.”

“Must have,” I murmur, stroking a finger along her cheek.

Demi doesn’t run, but I see the fear. I have to do this right, erase all the memories of me being a dirtbag from her brain. I know she has regret and hurt tattooed on her heart, and I put it there. So I can’t take anything that she hasn’t explicitly given me. I can’t push her whatsoever, I have to let her call the shots this time around.

Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, and I know it’s a reflex … something she can’t control. I’ve seen her do it a hundred times before, in my bed, in a closet at a party, in the shadowed tree line just out of sight.

The sound of afternoon sports games rings out in the park, music and chatter and birds filling up any leftover air space.

I lean farther in and can hear how shallow both hers and my breathing is. “I want to kiss you right now. Believe me, there is nothing I want more. But I’m not going to. When I kiss you for the first time, in a long time, I want you to give me permission. I want you to be completely sure, to make the call. So, Demi, can I kiss you?”

We’re in a trance, a bubble of our own surrounded by hundreds of people all going about their own business.

“No.” The word is a breath, a whisper, but her eyes say yes.

Immediately, I take my hand away from her jaw. “What you say goes. I promise.”

We can’t stop looking at each other, and even though that animalistic need to capture her mouth rages inside me, I won’t pursue it.

Not until she tells me I can.