Final Play (Fake Boyfriend 6)

I fall on top of Talon, and we crash to the floor.

“Ouch,” Talon says. “But I guess we can do it here.” He wriggles beneath me, and as much as I love the feel of his ass rubbing against my cock, I realize it’s time.

“Marc?”

At the use of his first name and the seriousness of my tone, Talon loses his trademark joking attitude.

“Fuck, what’s wrong?”

“We need to talk.” I wince as I get to my feet and grasp the railing of the boat.

“Are you hurt?” Talon jumps up to help me.

I say the words I’ve been holding on to for months. “It’s my leg.”

The moment it registers, it’s as if I can see Talon’s stomach drop.

“How bad is it?” he croaks.

“It’ll be fine with some physiotherapy. I saw my surgeon when I went to visit Mom a few weeks back.”

Talon frowns. “You went to a doctor and didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Well, too fucking bad because I’m fucking worried.” His anger is worry, I know that, but this is why I didn’t tell him to begin with.

“I’m fine. My leg’s good to go for this season.”

Talon’s lips twist as my words run through his mind.

For this season.

His “Oh fuck” moment is clear on his face. “You’re retiring.”

I want to protest and deny it, but my mouth won’t let the lie pass my lips.

“It’s the logical step if you’re worried about permanent damage.”

I study his face for any of the freaking out I’m expecting, but it’s not there.

“Shane, I love you more than anything in this fucking world. More than football. More than myself—now, that’s saying something. I can’t wait to marry you next year and start something new with you. We’ll be more of a team than we are now, which means I need to trust your judgment. If you say you’re done, you’re done.”

Wait …

What?

“Who are you and where is my fiancé?” I accuse.

Talon chuckles. “Guess I deserve that. I know I can be pushy, and when you got injured, I might’ve pushed you a little too hard to get back into it, but I also saw the hunger in you back then. The longing. You weren’t ready to say goodbye.”

“I’m not exactly ready now,” I admit, “but my gut is telling me I have to. I want to have children with you, and I want to be able to actually run after them.”

Talon looks … surprised? “You want kids with me?”

“Eventually. What, you don’t?”

“No, I do. I’ve always thought I’d have kids … but I mean, I also thought I’d marry a woman, so I wasn’t sure if those plans would change with you or—”

“I want it.”

“Me too. And eventually sounds good. Maybe when I’m closer to retirement. I wanna run after them too.”

I mockingly gasp. “I can’t believe that dirty word came out of your mouth in terms of you doing it.”

“Well, I mean, I know I can’t still be playing when I’m sixty, but you know … fifty-nine is a good retirement age.”

I laugh. “Of course.”

Talon pulls me close and wraps his arms around my back. “How does five years sound?”

“What about three? I might be bored by the time five rolls around. Plus, you’ll be thirty-six if we wait five more years.”

“Nope. God and I have a deal. I’m going to stop aging this year. True story.”

“Oh, so is this the same deal you made with Him to stop maturing at eighteen too?”

“Exactly.” He leans in and kisses the tip of my nose. I kinda love it when he does that. “Kids in three, retire in five?”

“I can work with that, but you know you don’t have to retire to have kids. Plenty of the other guys do it.”

“They do, but they also complain a fuck ton during the season about missing them. I want to be a present father. Besides, imagining you holding a teeny tiny little baby in your big arms? For that, I’d give football up tomorrow if you asked me.”

I pull back. “Look at us being all mature and grown-up and planning our future. Our mothers would be so proud.”

“Exactly. We play out this next season, we kick ass, and then … wait, what are you gonna do the next three years?”

“I have no fucking clue, but I’m excited for it.”

Talon doesn’t seem as excited, but I think it might be hitting him that this is it. This is our last season together on the field.

“I’m sorry for telling you during our bachelor party. That’s a great way to bring the mood down.”

Talon holds me close again. “Oh, my poor, naïve fiancé. If you think this is our actual bachelor party, you’re sorely mistaken.”

I sigh. “I should’ve guessed.”

“Damn right, you should have. Sometimes it’s like you don’t know me at all.”

Chapter Eighteen

TALON

SEVEN MONTHS LATER

There’s glitter and boobs everywhere, and it’s the best thing ever.