Total pages in book: 191
Estimated words: 182070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 182070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
Zac’s eyes had flicked up to me when the “m” word had come out of my mouth, and they were still there when I finished. Those light brown eyebrows knit together; they weren’t really thick, but they weren’t thin either. They were just kind of perfect for his face. Honestly, everything about him worked together in a pretty boy but somehow still manly way. “Move to another apartment or somewhere else?”
“Away,” I answered, pulling my legs up onto the couch so my feet were planted on it too and I could balance my bowl on top of my knees. How much should I tell him? “I like Houston, but I don’t really have anyone here anymore other than some friends. And I used to like my job, but now I don’t. Connie lives in Killeen. Boogie’s in Austin….” I trailed off. “Anyway, we’ll see. I’ve still got a few more months left in my lease to decide. Are you… okay in Houston for now? Are you planning on going somewhere else? Back home?”
Maybe I should have shut the hell up and not asked anything about his future.
His smile was strained, and it made me feel bad. “It’s all right so far. I’m still workin’ with a trainer here.” The shoulder he shrugged said everything else though, I thought. “You heard, I’m guessin’?”
About not continuing on with the Thunderbirds? What the hell else would he be asking about? I nodded, leaving that in his court.
He tipped his head to the side in silence. Long enough for me to expect him not to want to talk about his career anymore, and I couldn’t blame him. I wouldn’t. I’d bet everyone wanted to talk to him about it. It had to be annoying. “We’re sortin’ things out,” he stated after a while, spoon still scraping along the sides of the plain white bowl.
Huh. It wasn’t my business to ask.
“I don’t know, darlin’. Between us, maybe I’ll retire.”
I just about spit my food out. I knew for sure I choked because the sausage went down the wrong pipe, and I had to take a sip of my lemonade before I got out, “Retire?” the same way I used to say cooties.
Zac leaned over, hand going to the cushion between us, a concerned expression on his perfect face. “You all right?”
I nodded, coughing a little even after a big gulp of tart lemonade, which he’d declined.
He kept on frowning, and I was pretty sure he leaned over a little more. “You sure, honey? Your face is all red. Want some of my water?”
I gave him a thumbs-up even as I coughed a little more.
He didn’t look convinced, but he eased back into the couch and picked up his bowl again, setting it on his lap, but he didn’t start up eating again. He just looked at me all worried.
So even though it wasn’t any of my damn business, I asked again, without choking up half a pound of sausage that time, “Did you say you’re thinking about retiring?” I hadn’t imagined it, right?
His blue eyes flicked to me. “Heard that part, huh?”
“Yes.” He wanted to fucking retire? Just thinking the word in my head felt disgusting.
His response was lifting both those broad shoulders and peering down at his dinner. “I’m thinkin’ about it.”
This is none of your business, Bianca. This is none of your business.
“Why?” I asked before I could stop myself.
“Things aren’t goin’ exactly the way I planned, darlin’,” he stated calmly, evenly. Almost in… resignation? “It’s July, and I don’t exactly have a team waitin’ on me, you know?”
A memory of that damn segment on the sports show a month ago ran through my head. Is it over for Zac Travis as a starting NFO quarterback?
Bitches.
I had a choice, and I knew I did. Keep my mouth shut and commiserate with him. Tell him he had his whole life ahead of him to do whatever he wanted. Say that football wasn’t everything.
Or… not.
Because how the hell could he be considering dropping his dream now? After so long? How?
It’s none of your business, Bianca, my brain tried to tell me for about the millionth time.
And sure, maybe it wasn’t—definitely wasn’t—but how could he seriously be considering retiring?
Was he out of his mind?
Had he told anyone else? That was a stupid question, of course he probably had. Why would Boogie tell me if he had? There was no reason. I could see Boog though telling him everything would work out.
But it wasn’t fine.
And before I could stop myself again, I asked, “Is that what you want?”
Those broad shoulders of his went up.
I could take that as a no, right? “What do your agent and your manager think?” I kept going with the questions like I had some right to know the answers.
That blue-eyed gaze moved to me as he scooped up some more beans and kale in a way that seemed pretty distracted. “They’re… concerned.”