Chapter 7 #2
“The best part? She’s never actually watched me play.
She saw a thirty-second clip online and decided that was enough to lecture me about my choices.
” His laugh was bitter. “Meanwhile, my sister hasn’t spoken to me in eight months because I missed her engagement party for an away game.
My dad sends me articles about CTE every few weeks with no commentary, just the links.
And none of them—not once—have asked if I’m okay.
If I’m happy. If maybe I know what I’m doing with my own life. ”
I moved without thinking, crossing the space between us, standing in front of him. His eyes tracked up to mine.
“They see what you see,” he said quietly. “The injuries. The risks. The statistics. And they can’t understand why anyone would choose this.”
“I’m not like them.”
“Aren’t you?” No accusation in his voice—just tired honesty. “You hate watching me play. You hate patching me up. You just said you can’t keep doing this.”
“Because I’m scared, not because I don’t respect you.
” I gripped his shoulders, careful of the bruises, needing him to understand.
“There’s a difference. Your family doesn’t support you because they think they know better than you do.
It sounds like they wouldn’t approve of you being a jock in any sport.
It’s not really about the specific game you’re playing.
It seems like they’re disappointed you didn’t become what they wanted. ”
Something flickered in his expression. Surprise, maybe. Or recognition.
“I’m scared because I’ve already lost someone to this sport,” I continued.
“Because I know exactly how bad it can get, and the thought of watching it happen to you makes me want to scream. But, Seth—” I loosened my grip, let my hands slide down to rest on his chest. “I’ve never once thought you were throwing your life away.
I hate the danger, not the decision. I hate that football hurts people, not that you love playing it. ”
“You mean that?”
“I watch your games. Every single one.” The admission came easier than it should have.
Something had shifted between us the night of my freak-out, and I hadn’t been able to stop myself from watching since.
It was like I needed to know what shape he’d be in when he came home.
“Sound off because I can’t handle the commentary, but I watch.
I track your stats. I know your completion percentage, your yards after catch, and how many times you’ve been targeted in the red zone this season.
I know you’re good, Seth. I know you love it.
And I know you’re smart enough to walk away before it destroys you. ”
His hands came up to cover mine, where they rested on his chest. “My family thinks I’m too stupid to understand the risks.”
“Your family is wrong.”
“They think I’m wasting my potential.”
“You’re not. You’re building something. The athletic training, the sports medicine focus…
You’re going to help people. You’re going to take everything you’ve learned from playing and use it to keep other athletes safe.
” I shifted closer, standing between his knees now.
“That’s not a waste. That’s the whole point. ”
“We’re both fucked up about football, aren’t we?” Seth’s voice was rough. “Your family was destroyed by it. Mine rejects me for playing it. Neither of us has uncomplicated feelings about any of this.”
“No.” I let out a shaky breath. “But maybe that’s why this works. We both understand what we’re dealing with.”
Seth’s breath caught. His hands tightened on mine.
“I’ve never had anyone believe in what I’m doing,” he said. “Not like this. Not without conditions or caveats or ‘but have you considered.’”
“Then everyone in your life has been an idiot.”
He laughed—a real laugh, surprised and warm. “God, Tanner. You can’t just say things like that.”
“Why not? It’s true.”
“Because when you say things like that, I want to—” He stopped. His eyes dropped to my mouth, then back up. “I’ve been trying so hard to give you space. To not push. To let you set the pace because I know you’re scared, and I don’t want to make it worse.”
My heart was pounding so loud I was sure he could hear it. “What if I’m tired of space?”
“Are you?”
I thought about the past three weeks. The careful distance we’d maintained even while tangled together on the couch.
The way we’d touch constantly and then pretend it meant nothing.
The ache in my chest every time he walked out the door for practice, the relief that flooded through me every time he came home safe.
“I’m tired of pretending,” I said. “I’m tired of falling asleep on the couch with you and waking up wanting you and acting like I don’t. I’m tired of being scared of something that’s already happening.”
“What’s already happening?”
"This." My fingers curled into his shirt, feeling his heartbeat racing under my palms. "Us. Whatever this is. It's been building since Auburn, maybe longer, and I've been too scared to look at it directly."
“And now?”
“Now I’m looking.” I met his eyes. “I don’t know what that means yet. I don’t know what I want this to be, or what I’m ready for. But I know I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel something.”
Seth was quiet for a moment. His hand found mine, threading our fingers together loosely.
“I’m not asking you to have it all figured out,” he said. “I don’t have it figured out either.”
“What do you have?”
“I know I care about you. More than I’ve cared about anyone in a long time.
” His thumb traced across my knuckles. “I know that when I come home hurt, you’re the only person I want to see.
I know that falling asleep with you is the best part of my week, even when we’re pretending it doesn’t mean anything. ”
My chest ached. “Seth—”
"I'm not asking for promises. I'm not asking for labels or commitments or any of that." He squeezed my hand. "I just need to know we're in this together. That I'm not the only one feeling it." “What does that look like?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it looks like this—talking about it. Being honest when things feel like too much. Not running away when it gets scary.”
I thought about all the times I’d wanted to run. All the times I’d woken up on the couch with his arm around me and forced myself to pretend it meant nothing because acknowledging it felt too dangerous.
“I can try,” I said. “I can’t promise I won’t freak out. I can’t promise I won’t need to take things slow.”
“Slow is fine. Slow is good.” His smile was small, tentative. “We’ve got time.”
“Do we?”
“Six more games. Then the season’s over, and I’m just a guy trying to get into grad school.” Seth lifted our joined hands, pressed a kiss to my knuckles—brief, careful, asking permission. “We don’t have to figure everything out tonight.”
The gesture was so gentle it made my throat tight. I stepped closer, let myself lean into his space.
“Can I—” I stopped, uncertain. “I want to try something. But I need you to tell me if it’s too much.”
“Okay.”
I leaned in slowly, giving him time to pull away. When my lips brushed his, it was barely a kiss—just the softest press of contact, there and gone. Testing. Questioning.
Seth’s breath caught. His free hand came up to rest on my hip, steadying without pulling.
“Okay?” I whispered.
“Yeah.” His voice was rough. “That was okay.”
“Can I do it again?”
“Please.”
The second kiss was still soft, still careful, but it lingered. I let myself feel the warmth of his mouth, the slight chap of his lower lip, the way his hand tightened almost imperceptibly on my hip. When I pulled back, we were both breathing harder than the moment warranted.
“Tanner.” My name came out of him like a question and an answer at once. His hand slid from my hip to my lower back, pulling me closer until I was standing flush between his knees. “Can I—”
“Yes.”
He kissed me this time. Not soft, not careful.
His mouth opened against mine, and I tasted heat, desperation, three weeks of waiting crashing through both of us at once.
I made a sound I didn’t recognize—needy, raw—and his grip tightened, one hand splayed across my lower back while the other slid up to cup the back of my neck.
I grabbed his shoulders for balance, then remembered his injuries and moved my hands to his hair instead, fingers curling into the strands, tugging without thinking. Seth groaned against my mouth and pulled me down onto his lap.
The position put us chest to chest, my knees bracketing his hips on the arm of the couch. His hands mapped the curve of my spine, slipped under the hem of my shirt to find bare skin. When his fingers traced up my sides, I shivered and pressed closer, grinding down without meaning to.
“Fuck.” Seth broke the kiss, breathing hard, his forehead pressed against mine. “Tanner, we need to—”
I kissed him again, swallowing whatever he’d been about to say. His hands flexed against my ribs, and I felt him hard beneath me, felt myself just as hard, and some desperate part of my brain said more, now, please.
But then Seth’s hands slid down to my hips and held me still, breaking the kiss with visible effort.
“Wait.” His voice was wrecked, his pupils blown wide. “Wait, wait. We need to slow down.”
“I don’t want to slow down.”
“I know. Fuck, I know.” He let out a shaky laugh, his thumbs tracing circles on my hipbones. “Believe me, I don’t either. But you said—slow. You said you needed slow.”
The reminder hit like cold water. I’d said that. I’d meant it—or thought I had before Seth’s hands were on my skin, his mouth was on mine, and my whole body was screaming for more.
“I did say that,” I admitted.
“And I’m trying to respect that. Even though right now—” He shifted beneath me, and I felt exactly how much he wasn’t interested in stopping. “Right now I want to take you to my room and not come out until Monday.”
The image his words conjured made my whole body flush. “Seth—”