Page 124 of Holding On

"Wait." I sit up. "You're saying you're planning to play this year? But what about your leg?"

"I should be off the crutches in a few weeks. I won't be able to play right away but if I'm in good enough shape, Coach said I could be back playing mid-season."

"But don't you have to do months of physical therapy?"

"Yeah, but I can play while doing that. They're not mutually exclusive."

"Have you talked to your parents about this?"

"Why would my parents care? It's what they want. In fact, my dad is the one who pushed me to go to the gym today. He was here this morning."

"Wait—what?" I shake my head really fast. "Your dad was here? This morning?"

"He was here to check out a new prospect he might want as a client. Some high school kid. He stopped by to tell me to get back to training. He'd already talked to Coach about it."

"And you listened to him? You never listen to your dad."

"I do. I just don't always want to. But in this case he was right. My workouts at home aren't enough. I need to be back on the field, throwing the ball."

I look at him, completely confused. "Okay, what's going on here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why are you suddenly so interested in playing football again? I thought you were done with it. I thought you wanted to do something else."

"I never said I was done with it. I said I liked having a break from it. But the truth is, I miss it. I miss tossing the ball. Being on the field. It's who I am."

"You're more than football, Ethan. You know that. We've talked about it."

"Doesn't matter. Football is what I'm meant to do, whether I want to or not."

This doesn't make sense. Ethan suddenly wants to play football? And make it a career? It goes against everything he's told me since I met him.

"Is this because of your dad?" I ask, assuming his father must have threatened him. "Is he making you play?"

"It isn't about my dad," he says harshly. "It's about me. I have to think about my future, and my future is football."

"Since when? Just yesterday, you were talking about doing something else. And now you don't want to?"

"I can still do something else, but I'll do it later, after my pro career is over."

"But you don't want to play pro."

"I never said that."

I toss my hands up. "Then who have I been talking to the past month? Because the Ethan I know said he didn't want to keep playing football."

He sighs. "I changed my mind, okay? Now can we talk about something else?" He pulls me down to his side and kisses me. "Or not talk at all?" He whispers it by my ear as his hand slides over my hip and up to my breast.

"Ethan," I breathe out, distracted by his touch.

"Yeah," he says as his lips move down my neck.

"I can't do this again. I have to leave."

"I'll be quick," he whispers in my ear.

I check the clock by his bed. "I can't. I don't have time." I attempt to get up but he stops me, his arm tightening around my waist.

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