Page 2 of The Long Game

And, Lexi Benson… the one who got away.

I keep glancing back at TJ. He confided in me earlier in the year that if we made the Super Bowl, he would retire tonight. After eight years in the league, he wanted to end it on a high note. This would mark his second Super Bowl and my first. I was disappointed to finally have hit our stride just for him to retire but I couldn’t blame the guy. He accomplished everything he wanted to.

I still have a dream that I plan to achieve before retiring: Win a Super Bowl with Luca Benson—playing on the same team. A dream we've had since first grade.

"My kids are getting older, Tuck. My oldest started peewee football and now that all the kids are in school and can’t travel, I see them so much less."

Sadie had gotten pregnant TJ’s first year in the NFL and his kids have known nothing but the open road. They had to move once due to a trade, uprooting their entire family when Sadie was eight months along with their second child. "I’ve had a good run. A longer career than most. If I get this second Super Bowl, I need to hang it up and spend the rest of my life doing what really matters—being with my wife and kids."

I couldn’t believe he was willing to walk away at the height of his career. It seemed crazy to spend our whole life chasing a goal only to give it up before it gives up on you. I’d always imagined that when I finally retired, it would be because I was forced out or got injured. TJ was going out with time still left on the clock.

After the ceremonies are over and TJ is voted MVP, he makes the speech in front of a stadium full of adoring fans…and a good portion of hateful ones, too. With his wife tucked under his arm and three small sons standing on the podium, he makes the speech I was anticipating but had hoped he’d reconsider once he had won another championship. How could he possibly want to walk away on a high like this?

It’s nearly one in the morning when a call comes in on my cell phone. I’ve felt several calls vibrate in my pocket since I left the stadium for the bar. I’ve ignored most of them. Now that things are no longer in a complete frenzy, I pull the phone from my pocket.

The name on the screen has my pulse kicking up again, the sounds of the bar fading into the background as I stare down at my phone. I swallow hard.

Lexi Benson calling…

My celebration rounds from friends, family, and colleagues didn’t feel complete, because theoneperson I want to hear from the most is trying to give us space.

"Lexi!" I say, with more enthusiasm than I planned.

My fingers tighten around the phone as I press it hard to my ear. My other hand comes up to block out the noise of the bar. I don’t want to miss a single word, my smile stretching wider at the sound of her voice than it did when I won a Super Bowl.

This is the first time I've heard her voice in six years, when I asked her to move to be with me at her family's beach house and she responded by asking for space.

"Oh, hi, I didn’t expect you to answer," she says softly. "I didn't mean to interrupt your celebration."

Like I could stop myself from picking up.

"You didn't. I'm glad you called," I say, wishing I could tell her so much more, but I can't risk her pulling away.

Memories flood back at the sound of her voice, dragging me back to that lake house—to her in my arms.

"Congratulations! I’m so proud of you, Evans."

My smile widens even further. The kind of smile that might hurt tomorrow.

"Thanks, Lex," I say, my voice a little softer.

"I always knew you’d do it but seeing it... impressive work, MVP."

"Hate to break it to you but I’m not the MVP. Did you turn the T.V. off early, because they awarded it to TJ Holloway?" I laugh, trying to keep it light.

"I might be a little biased. You’ll always be my MVP, Tuck."

My stomach flutters at her words, and I wish she was in my arms so I could kiss her. It’s the only thing that would top this night.

"How’s the Cayman Islands? Are you sipping a pina colada for me?" I tease.

"I don’t think this hotel bar serves piña coladas," she says, amusement in her voice.

"What tropical paradise doesn’t serve piña coladas? I guess you’ll have to change that when your firm buys the place."

"We won’t be buying this place. My dad doesn’t have any interest in buying a hotel in Los Angeles right now." She laughs uncomfortably, and my heart stops.

"You’re in LA? Right now?" My emotions clog my throat. She’s taking too long to answer. "Where are you?" I scan the room, already searching for the exit. Wherever she is, I need to be there. The high of the win is already fading, replaced by the hope that I'll finally get to see her again—after six years of "space".

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