“I don’t know, darlin’. Between us, maybe I’ll retire.”
I just about spit my food out. I knew for sure I choked because the sausage went down the wrong pipe, and I had to take a sip of my lemonade before I got out, “Retire?” the same way I used to say cooties.
Zac leaned over, hand going to the cushion between us, a concerned expression on his perfect face. “You all right?”
I nodded, coughing a little even after a big gulp of tart lemonade, which he’d declined.
He kept on frowning, and I was pretty sure he leaned over a little more. “You sure, honey? Your face is all red. Want some of my water?”
I gave him a thumbs-up even as I coughed a little more.
He didn’t look convinced, but he eased back into the couch and picked up his bowl again, setting it on his lap, but he didn’t start up eating again. He just looked at me all worried.
So even though it wasn’t any of my damn business, I asked again, without choking up half a pound of sausage that time, “Did you say you’re thinking about retiring?” I hadn’t imagined it, right?
His blue eyes flicked to me. “Heard that part, huh?”
“Yes.” He wanted to fucking retire? Just thinking the word in my head felt disgusting.
His response was lifting both those broad shoulders and peering down at his dinner. “I’m thinkin’ about it.”
This is none of your business, Bianca. This is none of your business.
“Why?” I asked before I could stop myself.
“Things aren’t goin’ exactly the way I planned, darlin’,” he stated calmly, evenly. Almost in… resignation? “It’s July, and I don’t exactly have a team waitin’ on me, you know?”
A memory of that damn segment on the sports show a month ago ran through my head. Is it over for Zac Travis as a starting NFO quarterback?
Bitches.
I had a choice, and I knew I did. Keep my mouth shut and commiserate with him. Tell him he had his whole life ahead of him to do whatever he wanted. Say that football wasn’t everything.
Or… not.
Because how the hell could he be considering dropping his dream now? After so long? How?
It’s none of your business, Bianca, my brain tried to tell me for about the millionth time.
And sure, maybe it wasn’t—definitely wasn’t—but how could he seriously be considering retiring?
Was he out of his mind?
Had he told anyone else? That was a stupid question, of course he probably had. Why would Boogie tell me if he had? There was no reason. I could see Boog though telling him everything would work out.
But it wasn’t fine.
And before I could stop myself again, I asked, “Is that what you want?”
Those broad shoulders of his went up.
I could take that as a no, right? “What do your agent and your manager think?” I kept going with the questions like I had some right to know the answers.
That blue-eyed gaze moved to me as he scooped up some more beans and kale in a way that seemed pretty distracted. “They’re… concerned.”
Lord, he was making me work for it. “About…?”
This is none of your business. This is none of your business. This is none—
I saw his hesitation, saw the way his eyes flicked to the side for a split second, and saw as that blond-and-ash-brown-dusted jaw did this weird little grind, but he answered me anyway. “They’re worried I’m too old.”
Too old?
He made a sound I didn’t know what to think of. “I’m not done yet. Least I don’t feel like I am. There’re other things…. It’s just been other shit with the head coach in Oklahoma. We got off on bad terms. We weren’t clickin’.”
Ohhh.
“But not everyone gets it or sees it that way. It wasn’t the right place for me.” He buried those long fingers through his hair, flipping those multicolored strands back, away from his forehead. “Now… I’m here. Trevor and my agent think other teams would rather get someone young,” Zac finished. “Somebody to build a team around and all that.”
I blinked, tapped the handle of the spoon against my nose, and I stared at him. At that Disney prince nose and the silhouette of his mouth and the rest of his handsome face….
What in the hell was wrong with him?
“They’re concerned because you aren’t ‘young’ anymore? They think other teams wouldn’t want you because you’re old? And decrepit?” I mean… he was asking for it, wasn’t he?
He blinked. Zac’s bottom lip dropped into a literal gape, and he sat up straight on my couch. Offended. Or maybe it was hurt? Shocked?
Jesus, help me. Maybe all three.
“I’m only thirty-four,” he basically said in a tone that might have hurt my feelings a decade ago. Eyes wider than usual, or at least what I considered “usual” based off the faces I usually saw him rocking on camera. Yep, he was insulted. “Why are you makin’ it sound like I’m in a walker?”
I blinked again, fighting like freaking hell to keep from laughing, because he really was making this way too easy. Way too easy. And way too fun, even though he’d lost his mind with his retiring talk. “I’m just working off what you said.”
His mouth was still open a little as his eyebrows knit together, 100 percent offended/shocked/hurt.
But not sad at least.
So I couldn’t help it. I snorted. “Hey, you’re the one throwing yourself a pity party for one. It felt like an invitation. You’re the one implying you’re an old man and all that.” All right. And there we were with us going back to young Bianca who had treated Zac just like Boogie, teasing and messing around and normal.
But he deserved it. He was asking for it.
I hadn’t exactly planned on jumping right into it, but old habits die hard. And there were worse things in the world to do than picking on Zac Travis when he was being dramatic. I could be on drugs.
Zac blinked again, thinking. I could tell he was freaking thinking.
And then, then, I looked at him with an expression that said you’re an idiot. Because that was younger Bianca too. Okay, and teenage and adult Bianca, especially around people I trusted and felt extra comfortable with.
My heart was on a different page from my brain, and that was okay.
Then and only then did his mouth curl up. Then he shook his head with a laugh that sounded like it surprised him. “All right, all right. You made your point, kiddo. I’m not old. I know I’m not. Other teams might feel that way, but I don’t feel like it. That’s what I was tryin’ to say. I’m not done yet.”
“You’re not that old,” I clarified, trying to goad him out of his little world a little more, inch by inch.
“No. I ain’t old period.” He gave me a side-look that had his cheek twitching. “Not really.”
But it was too late. We were too in this now, and this was too familiar. Too easy. “You’re sure you can still handle throwing a ball a few feet?”
He laughed, and it was light and awesome, and I couldn’t have expected how glad that made me. “A few feet?”
My response was to shrug at him.
That lopsided smile of his released itself into the world. “I don’t remember you bein’ this much of a pest.”