Page 124 of The Replay

I purse my lips. "This is all assuming that what I want is to be with her."

"And it's not?" Logan asks in the sternest, most incredulous tone he can muster.

Fuck. I roll my shoulders. My heart beats faster, predicting a threat I can't yet see. Whatever it is, it's directly linked to the questions they're asking. And the things I'm avoiding. All for fear of what's to come.

"I want to fix things," I venture. "But it doesn't mean it will end in us being together."

Logan frowns. "Explain."

Perhaps I should. I've tried to keep my friends out of this, and it didn't work. Maybe it's time to change tactics again. My ignorance could cost me new regrets if I don't face everything head on, and they won't let me look away.

I may be a fool at times, but I'm not a coward.

I close my eyes. It's easier to look inwards that way. "When Mariana and I got together in college, it was with the understanding that we'd split up. She had to leave after graduation. I almost did something to prevent the breakup, but her dad changed my mind. Mariana had a future I could not help her with. The least I could do was not stop her from going for it."

I had been planning how in hell to venture the idea of staying in the relationship. England had no football opportunities for me, but perhaps she might still have a career on this side of the pond… except asking her to stay seemed wrong. I rolled it over and over in my head, trying to find a new angle. New options. Anything. Even trying long distance, despite not seeing when we'd be able to be together again. Could we make it past a decade or two of working through careers that would keep us apart? Seeing each other between football seasons, and any short trips she could take when it fit both our schedules?

Until her trip was only two weeks away, and urgency began affecting my sleep. Even my appetite. I don't know what James saw that day, or if he'd been planning it for a while, but he took me aside that Friday after dinner. We went to his home office. He offered me scotch. Then he told me he was simply a loving father, wanting to talk to a young man who loved Mariana too.

As an older, wiser man today, I know James used my love to convince me that letting her go was the best thing I could do for her. But I know it was my mistake, too.

I gaze at the party and the tents, the trees, and a hundred different faces. Yet if someone were to ask me to describe what I saw, I wouldn't have a clue.

I take a deep breath. "Flash forward to getting drafted and realizing I had so much more to offer to someone who had it all. Only to find out she was going to get fucking married. Married. Talk about the future she designed for herself, when she didn't have me to slow her down. A royal. A great job in the field of her choice. What could I do about it? Nothing. But in my despair, I tried the only thing I could think of. The thing I was too chickenshit to do while I still had her. I asked her to change her mind. She didn't."

I should have never listened to James. Age isn't an excuse for not realizing that our love had nothing to do with what we could give each other. Now I have to live with the old, deep-rooted guilt of watching her cry as we said goodbye. When I said nothing if not to comfort her, and did nothing but hold her close and hold back tears.

Even back then, I chose her and her happiness. I supported the version she chose of herself.

"That sounds awful," Pen says.

Saint puts a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry that went wrong."

I shake my head. "There are things you don't know about my story with Mariana. I don't blame you for that— we've kept it quiet."

"And now you're looking back," Rafa says, "and you're thinking you should learn from everything."

His smile is small and understanding, and I let it turn into a warm ember within my chest.

I nod. "So I want to fix it. Mariana does too. To us, that means that if we know we're going to end things again, then we'll be good about it this time."

"But why break up?" Evie asks. "Isn't it going well?"

Two weeks of seeing her smile first thing in the morning. Of laughing with her at night, and holding her close as she gazes at me with sparkling eyes. Of small, stolen moments during the day, ending in a sweet kiss goodnight. The fact she came to the hospital, because knowing I was okay mattered more thananything. And that little smile she gets every time I remind her to drink enough water and eat something.

Yeah. Things have been great. Mundane and intimate. I could have a whole life full of days like these.

"Things are going really well," I say, "but she's leaving. Do you really think we can do this long-distance? Hell, if it's going well, maybe it is because of the promise we made to let each other go. Am I supposed to break it?"

"It doesn't sit right that the way to fix things is to never tell her how you feel," Pen argues.

"Are you at least admitting to yourself what you feel?" Bear asks.

I gaze back at the tall, big man, with his thick black beard and that stark, white scar on his top lip. His eyes are serious on me. It forces me to truly consider his question and, well, no. No. I haven't. I've been protecting myself.

My breathing quickens. "I swore I wouldn't put myself in this situation again. First, I tried to be good and let her go, and it broke me. Then I didn't care if I was being bad, so I called her and tried to make it work. It failed. Now I'm going for yet another chance?"

"La tercera es la vencida," Pen says.