Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 52440 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52440 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
The statement won't shock anyone. Hell, I'm sure they already see it coming. The whole goddamn world has already seen me at my worst. They've seen it since I was drafted, perhaps even before.
Now, it's time to give them something better.
"Teo! Teo!" reporters shout, surging toward the property line when I pull up at Nadia's an hour later. I ignore every single question they lob in my direction, heading straight for the door and my girl.
My fucking heart cracks in half when I find her curled up on the leather sofa in the living room under a big blanket, her eyes rimmed in red, and her gorgeous face splotchy. She's been crying—all damn day from the looks of it.
She takes one look at me and cries out softly, sitting upright. Her eyes lock on my face, a fresh flood of tears pouring down her cheeks.
"Butterfly," I whisper, crossing to her in two steps. Within seconds, I'm on my knees beside her, pulling her down into my arms. And for the first time since I drove to the airport two days ago, I feel like I can breathe again.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she sobs, shaking in my arms as I press her face up against my throat, holding her tightly.
"Hey, hey," I croon, shifting around until I'm on my ass, leaning back against the sofa with her in my arms. I rock her gently, running my hands through her hair, my heart cracking with every apology that tumbles from her perfect lips. "You have nothing to be sorry for, butterfly."
"You q-quit football because of m-me."
"No, baby," I say firmly, tipping her head back until her watery eyes meet mine. "I quit football because it isn't my heart. It never has been. I'm holding that right here in my arms."
"Teo." More tears pour down her cheeks.
"There is nothing more important to me than you, Nadia," I whisper, pressing my forehead to hers. "I'm the one who told everyone that we're dating. I'm the one who risked the truth about your past coming out. It was my responsibility to fix it." I brush tears from her cheeks, drying them with my lips. "No one gets to decide for you how or when you tell your story, butterfly. I'm not going to allow them to make that choice for you."
"I just want to sing, Teo," she says sadly. "I don't w-want to spend the rest of m-my life remembering the saddest parts of it. But this feels w-wrong. You can't give up football to protect me. It's not f-fair to you."
"I didn't just do it to protect you, butterfly. I did it for me, too."
She blinks at me.
"Every time I'm on the field, I remember the saddest parts of my life, too. They use that shit to hit at me, to try to get a reaction out of me," I explain. "That won't ever stop, Nadia. It's part of the game. I've spent my career raging against it. Fucking hating it. But I've gone back out there every week and done it anyway because I liked the pain. This shit is punishment, butterfly. It's been punishment for years."
"Teo," she whispers, her bottom lip quivering.
"I broke your fucking heart. It's what I thought I deserved. To be punished. To keep hurting myself for it. All the shit I do…everything I've done…I've been trying for years to punish myself for hurting you, but it never changed a goddamn thing, butterfly. It didn't unbreak your heart. It didn't unbreak mine." I exhale a breath. "It's time to let it go."
"W-what are you saying?"
"Emelia is releasing a statement in the morning—another statement," I amend. "I don't know if I'm an alcoholic, but I'm something, butterfly. After I found out last night, I went to a bar. I intended to drink myself stupid and tear the place apart. It's what I always do when shit gets hard, drink or fight." I swallow, the pain in her eyes killing me. "You stopped me."
She stares at me, not speaking.
"I don't want to be that man anymore. You deserve better than that man." I cup her cheek, wiping away more tears. "So do I, Nadia. And I can't be him if I'm on that fucking field every week, listening to the same shit, seeking the same punishment. I can't do it if I don't ask for a little help. So I'm asking. We're telling the world I retired to seek treatment. It's what I need, and it's a big part of the truth."
"Teo, you d-don't owe me that," she whispers, shaking her head. "You don't have to destroy your reputation to try to bury my truth. That isn't right."
"Baby, I destroyed my reputation a long time ago. This is me finally doing something to fix it. It's not wrong to admit you need help. It's wrong to know you need help and refuse to seek it." I brush my lips across her forehead, breathing her in. "I can't be that man, butterfly. You deserve better. I didn't give you better once. It broke us both. I'm not making that mistake with you again. If this puts the focus on me and my shit instead of something you never wanted to share, I can accept that."