Page 78 of The Wrong Game

It had been over a decade since that relationship ended, and yet still, the scars from that girl remained. That was how powerful love was. It could save you, could help you live for the first time, see the world in a new way — but it could also knock you to the ground, the force so blunt you never forget the way it felt to fall.

Failed love built walls, but it was our choice whether we decided to hide behind them, or sit on top of them, waiting for someone to come along who could knock them down.

I was the latter, but something told me Gemma was the first.

“Anyway,” I said after a long pause. “Family was just always really important to me. And once my brother was born, when I was fourteen, it was even more so. I never knew how badly I wanted to be an older brother until I was one.”

Gemma smiled, leaning up more. “I think that’s sweet. He’s so much younger than you.”

“He is. He’s a great kid, though,” I said, throat tightening. “He’s had a rough life, but he’s always so positive. He inspires me.”

“Yeah?” she asked, her finger drawing circles on my chest. “What did he think of your girlfriend, the one you dated for a long time?”

“Smooth segue,” I said, smirking.

She blushed. “What? You brought her up.”

“Yeah, and also brought the conversation back around to family.”

“Well, now I’m bringing the conversation back around to her.”

I laughed, but then shrugged, twirling a strand of Gemma’s hair around my fingers. “There’s not much to say. We were serious, at least, I thought we were. I wanted to marry her.” I swallowed. “But, when my football career ended, so did our relationship. Turns out she was more interested in the money I was on track to come into when I went pro than she was in me.” I scratched my neck. “But, in my defense, she was a great actress. I thought she loved me.”

Admitting that out loud stung, and I grimaced a little at the twinge in my chest. Even as young as I was — a senior in high school, a rookie in college — all my coaches saw the pro potential. That was all Emily, my ex, held onto. It was all she pushed me toward. And when I explained to her that Micah was more important, that I wanted to spend my time with him and not with football?

She was gone.

And my family was everything.

“That’s awful,” Gemma whispered. “I’m so sorry. But, why did your football career end?” She ran her fingertips over my chest. “Did you… were you hurt or something?”

I grabbed her fingers, lifting them to my lips to press a kiss to the tips of them. “That’s another conversation for another time,” I told her, not ready to go there yet. “It’s your turn.”

“My turn?”

“Tell me something.”

“Wait,” Gemma protested. “You can’t just leave me on that. I mean, what happened after? You just what… lost her and football at the same time?”

I nodded. “Yep. That’s exactly what happened.”

Gemma softened, her entire body melting into mine. “That had to be so hard.”

I shrugged again, suddenly aware of how deep I’d taken the conversation without meaning to. I’d just wanted to open up a little about my family, and suddenly I’d stepped into a realm I didn’t know how to explore further. “Shit happens,” I finally said. “I learned my lesson, haven’t really dated much since. Nothing long-term and substantial, anyway.”

Gemma nodded, resting her chin on her hands again. “I get that.”

“I know you do,” I said. “But I still don’t knowwhy.”

She blew out a long breath. “I don’t… Zach, I’m not ready to talk about that. Not yet.”

My chest squeezed, not because I was hurt she didn’t want to share with me, but because I knew that look on her face — the one that comes only from being betrayed in the worst way. I didn’t know what happened, but I knew without her saying another word that whatever it was,whoeverit was — they’d changed her. Permanently.

I knew, because my ex had done the same to me.

“It’s okay,” I assured her, rubbing her lower back. “How about something easier.”

She scrunched her nose, then snapped her fingers. “I’m afraid of heights.”