“Marry me.” He reaches over and grabs my hand, dragging it closer to him. His palm is clammy and squeezes mine tight, my fingers crunched in his grip.

Butterflies riot in my stomach and my mouth opens and closes. Marriage is something for the future. I don’t know what it takes to be ready for such a step, but whatever it is, I don’t have it. “That’s crazy.”

“I know.” He takes in my expression of disbelief and firms his lips. “But it’s the good kind of crazy, right?”

“Brody …” I shake my head. “Why?”

“Why?” He sets my hand free and thumps back in his seat, breaking our connection. “You seriously need to ask that?”

“We’re going from one day at a time to getting married?”

His jaw tightens. “I don’t need to do one day at a time to know I want to be with you the rest of my life.”

Tears prick my eyes. I feel the same but what he’s asking is impossible. I look somewhere over his shoulder because I’m a coward, unable to bear seeing the hurt I’m about to inflict. “I can’t, Brody. I’m signing with Seattle. I’m leaving.”

“I know,” he says quietly. My eyes shoot to his and I see heartbreak hiding behind them. “I already know. And I’m not going to lie. It hurts you’re not signing closer. The Houston Dash would jump to have you. But here’s the thing. I’m proud of you, Jordan, and I’m not going to hold you back. This is your dream, and who the hell am I to take that from you? Or put restrictions on it. I know I won’t be able to wake up to you every morning, but at least I’ll know I have you in my life. I need you in my life.”

I swallow, not knowing what to say, so I stall, a nervous huff of laughter escaping my lips. “I haven’t even met your family.”

“And if you’re lucky, you never will,” he replies, his eyes darkening into a hard glare. “I’m not asking you to marry my family, Jordan. Just me.”

I should say no. That would be the logical, smart thing to do, and I’ve always been logical and smart. We’re both young. We both have careers. We haven’t even graduated college. Yet I can’t bring myself to form the two-letter word. I swallow, my mouth dry. “I need to think about it.”

After a pause, a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “That’s not a no.”

Jordan

“What?” The word explodes from my brother’s lips via the screen of my laptop. “Fuck no!” He leans in, as if seeing the furrow of fury on his brow up close will force me to comply. “You are not marrying some college footballer. This is not going—”

I cut him off when he begins to finger jab, warming himself up to a full-blown rant. I should’ve kept my mouth shut and spoke to Leah about it instead, but marriage is a life altering decision, and one I wanted my twin to weigh in on. Just not so heavily. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you.”

Nicky rears back like I punched him clear in the nose. “I’m your twin. You should be telling me everything.” His eyes narrow. “What else aren’t you telling me?”

“I’m not keeping anything from you,” I lie, because really, there are just some things you can’t share with a brother, twin or not.

He shakes his head. “The time for your career is now, while you’re young. You won’t get another shot at it, and if you don’t take that shot now, you’re going to live a life of ‘what ifs’ and regrets, and you’ll always look back wondering what could’ve been. How far you could’ve gone.” My stomach sinks because I know his words come from his own experience. He gave his shot away for me, and now his mind will always wonder what could’ve been. “Relationships, marriage, all that bullshit can wait. Soccer can’t, Jordan.” He rakes fingers through his hair and sits back in a huff. “I can’t believe I even have to tell you that.” My lips press together in a tight line. Nicky’s right. I can’t believe he has to tell me either. “When did he ask you?”

“Dinner two nights ago. It was completely out of the blue. We’ve never even talked about it before then,” I add, so he knows I wasn’t keeping him out of the Elliot Circle of Trust.

“And what did you tell him?”

“I told him I’d think about it.”

Nicky curses under his breath but I still hear him. “And after you thought about it, you told him no, right? Tell me you said no.”

For a second I want to show defiance and tell him I said yes, just because I hate the way Nicky acts like my parent. Sometimes it would be nice to have the fun-loving, mischief-making twin back that he used to be before we lost everything. Instead my eyes drop to the keyboard. “I said no.”

“Good.” He tips his head back against his high-back chair. “I don’t want to hear any more about it.”

With Nicky’s words reverberating in my head, I focus on nothing but soccer for the next week. Every morning I wake exhausted, as if I’ve done drills in my sleep. Trials with Seattle Reign go better than I hope and my spirits are high when they call to discuss a contract. It’s really happening. I’m moving to Seattle at the end of the semester, the very next day in fact, and going to training camp with the best team in the NWSL.

Brody trains just as hard for the draft, and we keep up the tutoring. It’s not a huge success. There are some beautiful highs and very ugly lows, but he scrapes by in the last of his subjects. At least he doesn’t have the dark cloud of Kyle Davis hanging over his head. Brody won’t talk about it, but I know Kyle tried laying charges of assault that didn’t stick. Jaxon told me. What else happened I don’t know, except Kyle didn’t spend his last semester at Colton Park University. The college grapevine says he finished up his final semester in San Antonio. Good riddance to bad rubbish.

With the end of senior year arriving, Brody is the number six draft pick in the first round, signing with the Houston Wranglers where he can remain relatively close to his sister. It’s a big deal. Huge. And the media storm rains down, leaving us with little time to talk about our future.

It’s when I’m at Austin airport, having come full circle, that the magnitude of leaving Brody hits. He’s dropped me off and gone to park the car. Tears burn my eyes as I check in at the counter.

“Fuck,” I mutter coarsely and wipe fingers beneath my eyes. Any other word simply won’t do. Not for this.

“It’s teeming rain in Seattle,” the ticket lady tells me with a sympathetic smile. “I’d be crying too.”

“It is?” I didn’t even know but it feels fitting.

“That your man?” she asks. I turn my head. Brody’s standing off to the left of the line behind me, stuck signing autographs. He gives me a wink from under his cap, but I see the frustration in his eyes. Our time is now measured by mere minutes and strangers are stealing it away from us. “Mmm-mmm, he is fiiiine,” she drawls. “I’ve seen you both in the papers. Such a cute couple.” I’m handed my ticket. “Be a doll and get me his autograph?”

I force a smile, tugging at my ticket when she holds it hostage. “I’ll ask him to stop by your counter on his way out.”

Her eyes light up. “Do that.” My ticket is released. “And if Darlene is on the counter while I’m on break,” she calls after me, “tell him she can buzz me from the rec room!”

My back is turned and I’m already walking away, but I wave my ticket in response. Brody’s eyes lift as I stride toward him. He’s different from the day I first met him over a year ago. He’s a little older now, bigger and harder, his body automatically adopting the role of seasoned professional football player he’s just signed on to be.

He’s still surrounded by people, a pen in his right hand as he signs someone’s plane ticket, but Brody’s dark brown eyes lock with mine, not letting go of them. He gives back the autographed ticket to the man beside him wearing a Wranglers tee shirt. The man grins, slapping Brody on the back before turning away, and the next fan takes his place.