Page 49 of Her Football Star Ex

He would support me as I worked to move on and rebuild my life with someone else.

And he—

Well, I had a feeling he might be one step closer to being able to switch up the drink selection in his luxury suite next year.

We could be each other’s cheerleaders from now on. Maybe we could even be friends.

Vincent’s chest expanded as he drew in a deep breath. And when he started rubbing my back with his hands, I relaxed against him even more.

When was the last time we’d done this? I knew it hadn’t happened since the night he told me everything.

I hadn’t allowed him to touch me after that.

Had it happened the Saturday before? When he’d left with his weekend bag to fly to an out-of-town game?

Or had we just exchanged a quick goodbye peck on the lips before he left the house that morning?

I couldn’t remember.

I couldn’t even remember our last kiss.

And for some reason, this realization made my chest hurt a little.

If I’d known it would be our last, I would have savored it more—let it be one to remember.

It only seemed right that the last kiss you had with someone be as embedded in your mind as much as your first.

“What are you thinking about?” Vincent asked, his voice quiet next to my ear.

Of course he’d ask that question right when I was thinking about the very last thing I wanted him to know I was thinking about.

Kissing him.

“Nothing,” I hurried to say.

Why did my voice have to come out sounding all breathy?

He stopped the movement of his hands on my back.

“Nothing?” he asked in his deep voice that reverberated in his chest. “Really?”

“Uh huh.” I nodded and pulled away to look at the V-neck of his T-shirt, working hard to keep my face from giving my thoughts away.

“Then why won’t you look at me?” he whispered, a suspicious tone in his voice.

“I am looking at you.” Maybe not his face, but the skin below his neck was still a part of him.

He chuckled lightly, the deep sound causing more goosebumps to race across my skin. “I thought this whole conversation we’ve been having was all about being open and honest with each other. Why are you lying to me now?”

Because if I told him I was thinking about kissing him, he’d probably think I was interpreting his kindness in letting me stay here and the moment we were sharing as something more than it was.

And I wasn’t.

I knew the Emerson-and-Vincent train had crashed and burned long ago. And there was no way to get a train back on the rails that was burnt to a crisp.

But even though I knew all that, it didn’t mean I couldn’t still wish to remember certain “lasts” with him.

Like the last time we laughed so hard together that we couldn’t stand up straight.

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