“Getting a drink,” I mouth before reaching his side, nodding my head toward the café on the left.

He nods, resigned.

I buy two Gatorades, dropping them in my carry-on along with my purse. Shouldering the bag, I turn back. Another crowd of fans has him surrounded like the last chip at a seagull party.

“Sorry guys.” Handing over another autograph, he pushes through them, his lips pressed tight in a polite smile. “Really. I have to go.”

Brody finally reaches my side, all golden skin, intense eyes, and light brown hair curling from beneath his cap. His presence is extreme, a giant magnet that draws everyone toward him like metal. Eyes follow him, and the more zealous fans begin their approach. He latches on to my elbow and steers me toward my departure gate.

“All set?” he asks, moving us along quickly, his vibe screaming ‘back off and leave us the hell alone.’

“Yep,” I say, aiming for casual as we reach the gate, but the solitary word comes out a hot mess, strangled by the huge lump in my throat.

“Baby.” His voice cracks, and my bag drops to the floor by my side when he wraps me in his arms, holding me so tight my feet lift off the ground. I burrow against Brody’s chest and his body shudders. “I don’t want to let you go.”

“I’m sorry.” Tears stream down my face now, a tidal wave of emotion I can’t hold back. My eyes will be red, my face splotchy, and I’m no doubt leaving a trail of snot all over his shirt. I don’t care. I hold on like there’s no tomorrow. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I chant into his chest where my face is mashed. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m staying. I’ll tell Seattle I made a mistake. Houston Dash will still take me. I won’t leave them any choice.”

He huffs a sad laugh, his warm chest vibrating against my cheek. “You know I want that. More than anything. But Seattle won’t wait for you. I will.” The announcement booms around us that my flight is boarding. “You know you have to go,” Brody says, yet his arms lock tighter, belying his words.

“Six weeks.”

His clamp on me loosens, just enough for him to draw back and look down into my eyes. Six weeks is how long his pre-camp training is. When he’s done I’m flying back into Austin. But just for the weekend. After that, training begins to get serious. For both of us. He nods. “Six weeks.”

My flight is called again.

“Brody,” I whisper. This is it. I’m not ready. My breath hitches, and both my head and heart begin to thump in perfect symphony. From this moment our relationship status is on long-distance time. Phone calls. Skype. Messenger. This is our life now. Indefinitely. “I love you.”

“I love you too. So much.” Brody ducks his head, his lips meeting mine in a long, deep kiss that leaves me hot and flustered. “We can do this.” He slips a piece of paper into the pocket of my tiny denim shorts.

I glance down as he tugs his hand free from the tight confines. “What’s that?”

“A message from Leah. She wants you to read it the second the plane lifts off the ground, okay?”

Leah.

I lower my head and nod. My best friend blubbered when I left this morning. In a fit of nostalgia, she insisted I leave the apartment the same way I arrived. So I did. A final match of MLB with Hayden ensued. He asked me what goodbye was in ‘Australian.’ I told him, and after getting squeezed by the great, big, bloody Viking, he said, “Hoo roo, mate,” and grinned. “Have a good one.”

My eyes swam in response, blurring him in front of me.

After giving Leah back my key, she crouched, wrapped both arms around my legs just under my butt, hoisted me up, and carried me out the door. No spills. We rolled my suitcases down the tiled stairs together, the wheels hitting each one with a loud thump. Reaching the parking lot, we hugged for an eternity while Brody stowed my bags in his car.

I’m jolted from the memory by Brody whispering, “Go,” in my ear. He nudges me in the back, toward the boarding ramp. “Seriously. Go, before I stop you.”

My legs move on autopilot, taking me down the ramp to the airplane door. I don’t look back, even though I know he’s standing there. I feel him watching me, his words lingering in my head. We can do this. Apprehension prickles along my skin. I’m not sure we can. Nothing between us has felt one hundred percent since I found the bottle of Adderall in his bag. I tried talking to him, but we were both so busy.

Busy is no excuse, my inner voice chides.

And the voice is right.

I’m not sure I tried hard enough.

My stomach dips when the plane lifts off the ground. Remembering the note, I tug it from my pocket. Elliott. Look out the window to the airport parking lot. Leah xo

I turn my head but we’re climbing and I can’t see the airport behind us. After a few minutes the plane banks right and I see it. A giant, white banner held out by a bunch of human specks. Leah must have used at least six king-sized sheets to make it. It jiggles up and down, and I’ve no doubt the entire soccer team is there, waving it above them.

A smile breaks across my face, even as tears burn my eyes. I love Leah. I love that Leah has Hayden. And I hate leaving them both. But the memories hurt beautifully. When I can no longer see them anymore, I tip my head back against the seat and close my eyes.

Five weeks pass as I learn my way around a new city. My limited knowledge of Seattle is that it always rains—daily downpours that turn streets into raging rapids, with natives dressed in raincoats and galoshes, running along the sidewalks holding inside-out umbrellas smashed by gale force winds.

There was a minor sprinkle on my arrival, sort of a ‘welcome, here’s some light precipitation in honor of your arrival,’ but since then it’s been the Sahara freaking Desert. I’m unprepared for the dry air that sears my lungs, and the warm sweeping winds that toss the soccer ball in every direction but where I need it to go.

My contract provides accommodation. Unfortunately it means sharing a two-bedroom apartment with Dani, the Reign’s team goalie. I’ve taken the room Valeena lived in until injury forced her from the team. Dani takes it as a personal insult. My arrival is not met with a welcome mat, but more of a ‘screw up and I will cut you’ mentality. Fortunately, she’s never here, and I spend my nights on Skype with any friendly face willing to talk to me: Nicky, Leah, Hayden, Paige, and Jaxon, but most of all, Brody.

Sitting on my bed, pillows propped behind my back, I take in the four barren walls of my room. I can’t bring myself to decorate the space and pretend it’s home. Without Brody, Seattle will never be home. It’s merely just another stepping stone in my career, the same way Texas was supposed to be.

Opening the lid of my laptop, I click on Skype, dialing Brody for our scheduled call. He answers almost instantly—his chest bare and lower half encased in nothing but black football pants. My blood hums at the display and a whimper escapes my lips. I’m awarded a bright smile, making me hate myself and what I’m about to do.

“Bitch,” I mumble under my breath.

But this is what sacrifice means. This is what it takes to be the best. He’ll understand. More than anyone else, Brody will get it, I tell myself. It doesn’t stop the sharp pang of guilt.

“One more week,” are the first words from his lips.

I give a faint smile of apology. “About that …”

When I trail off, his brows pull together.

I glance down at the keyboard, noting my letter E has a smudge on it. I rub at it, slowly realizing it’s not a smudge. The key’s worn. Huh. I guess E is my most popular letter.

“Jordan?”

I draw a deep breath of air into my lungs and speak in a rush. “I’mnotgoingtobeabletomakeit.”