When he gave her a look, she added, “With Tara.”
“Fine. Whatever you want.” He grabbed his helmet and headed off to the shower, wondering when his life had gotten so damn complicated. He had enough to worry about with his first preseason game coming up this weekend. He used to ease into these games with the zeal of a kid—no worries. But since he turned thirty and the bloodthirsty wolves of youth and vigor had started hounding his heels, every step he took had to be a careful calculation, and this time he had to put it all on the field. Management told him he was on solid footing and he was still their franchise player, but he knew that didn’t mean shit if he got hurt or his performance this season didn’t rack up the numbers.
And then there was Tara. How could something that had started out so lighthearted and fun and had just been sex turn into something serious?
He stood in front of his locker to get dressed and wondered what the hell he was going to do about that. He didn’t do serious relationships. Hell, he didn’t do relationships with women. He dated them. He fucked them. He had fun with them. Then they went one way and he went another. His career—the love of his life—was football. Always had been, and he assumed it always would be. Oh, he figured he might settle down one of these days, after his football career was over and he had the time and attention to focus on a woman.
What he hadn’t expected was for Tara to come into his life and knock him back on his ass and turn his world upside down.
He wasn’t ready for a relationship and commitment yet. He had to focus on this season, and that meant everything else had to go away once the season started.
He pulled the shirt over his head and sat down on the bench to shove stuff in his gym bag, then dragged his fingers through his hair.
So what was he supposed to do about Tara? Dump her? Walk away and tell her the summer had been fun, but he was done now that the season was starting up? With the other women that had breezed in and out of his life, they’d known how it was going to be. Fun trips, fun photo ops, great sex, but when the season started, it was over. They knew it and he knew it, and they’d been fine with it, because they hadn’t wanted permanence any more than he had.
They’d known the score, they’d played the game, and both sides had won.
Yet on the field today he’d read the riot act to Elizabeth for suggesting he go to a movie premiere with another woman. He’d told Liz he wasn’t seeing anyone else, that Tara was the only woman in his life.
Shit.
Did he even know what the fuck he wanted?
He’d better figure it out before he led Tara on.
Or maybe he’d better figure out what she wanted. She might not want anything other than a summer with him. She was busy building her career. She had a kid to think about. It wasn’t like she was the sort of woman who was out there trying to land a husband. She was fiercely independent, protective of Nathan, and hadn’t wanted to get involved in his lifestyle in the first place. So it wasn’t like she was all in about becoming a permanent fixture in his life.
Did he want her in his life permanently?
He sat and laid his head in his hands. Jesus, he didn’t know. Could he handle that? He’d been chasing after her from the first night he met her, not even thinking about where it might lead. He’d operated on blind instinct. The chase had been fun because he’d never had to chase a woman before.
Now that the season was going to start, it was time to make some decisions, because it looked like his relationship with Tara was headed somewhere. His feelings for her were headed somewhere.
And he had no fucking idea how he felt about that or if he could even handle it. The thought of just walking away from her wasn’t acceptable. He wanted her in his life. But what did that mean, both for him and for her?
Christ. If he ever needed a drink, it was now. Alcohol had always been good for making him forget things he didn’t want to think about. And this was a great topic not to think about.
He grabbed his bag and fished for his keys, then pushed through the doors of the locker room, needing fresh air to clear his head. He hit the parking lot and sucked in a huge lungful of it, realizing he’d been breathing too hard, damn near hyperventilating. He popped the lock on his car, tossed his bag in back, and climbed in, forcing his breaths to calm before he started up the car.
Breathe. Settle. God, what was wrong with him? He had a great life, an amazing, successful career, an awesome woman who seemed to care a lot about him, and for the first time in years he was craving a drink.
What kind of motherfucking weak-willed asshole did that make him?
He had a lot of thinking to do. It was time to go home, change clothes, and take a long run before he did something stupid like stop at the nearest bar and get a drink.