Page 89 of Playoff

“I don’t know,” I say. “It’s possible.”

“Look, this is what I meant about Plans B, C, and D.”

“The general plan is one more year with the Rebels, then I move to L.A., finish my degree, and we figure out our future.”

I nod. “That makes sense, but living an eight-hour drive apart won’t be easy.”

“No, but Plan B is the Phantoms pick me up and we have to make even harder decisions. I could ask to be traded. We could keep things on the down low for a year or two while I bank as much money as possible because the money I’d be making will set up our future.”

“Okay.” I hate the idea of sneaking around, but he has a point. NHL money is a lot. In the million-dollar-a-year range. Possibly more. Which could change everything for us.

“Plan C is you think about taking another job—” He holds up a hand before I can protest. “I’m not saying youshould, I’m just saying it’s an option. That’s what we’re doing here, right? Discussing options?”

I nod but my heart isn’t in it.

Ilovemy job.

I love working for the Phantoms.

As much as I love him.

How the hell would I make a choice like that?

“And Plan D?” I ask wryly.

“I’m not there yet,” he admits. “I’m trying to figure it all out. That’s why I wanted to talk. So we can come up with a plan together.”

I want this so much—more than anything—but I’m starting to get an uneasy feeling about it. Sneaking around. My job. His future. Money.

It’s a lot, and it’s beginning to feel like the odds are stacked against us.

Especially since he hasn’t even told me he loves me.

And I’ll be damned if I say it first.

Not this time.

I took the lead when we were kids, but he has to be the one to step up this time.

It’s important to me in ways I can’t quite explain, I just know that it is.

Somehow, I have to make him understand that without saying the words.

“Blake, look.” I sit up and pull the sheet up around me. “We do need to have this conversation, but does it have to be now? I mean, we’ve been back together a few weeks… we don’t know how we feel about each other or what we want or?—”

“Wait. I know how I feel about you,” he interrupts, frowning slightly. “The only question is whether or not you feel the same.Do you want me to spell it out? Because I will, Rowan. I love you. I always have, and I’m pretty sure I always will.”

TWENTY-EIGHT

Blake

It’s probably too soonto be baring my soul like this, but what choice do I have? I know that’s what she wants to hear, what she needs from me. Everything is happening so fast, and I feel a twinge of guilt at keeping the Boston thing from her, but my gut tells me she won’t be thrilled about me going to Boston considering she didn’t react well to the idea of me living in Phoenix.

And now she’s looking at me with tears in her eyes.

“You…do?” she whispers, blinking rapidly, like that’s going to stop the tears from falling. Because one has already started to slide down her cheek.

“Why does that make you cry?” I ask, reaching out to wipe it with my thumb. “Does my loving you make you feel bad?”

---