Law #3: Don't Fall for the Athlete: Sweet Second Chance Romance (Laws of Love) by Agnes Canestri (black books to read txt) 📗

do, but that drive that made me want to be the best at all costs came from a place of hurt. I wanted to prove myself to my father. And ultimately to myself. I thought that’d make me feel worthy and happy…but it didn’t. At least not the way I’m happy when I’m with you.”

I grip his hands. “Wyatt, you don’t have to give up being with the NFL for me. I was wrong to doubt your words based on our past.”

His lips open, but I continue, “I was reasoning from a place of hurt, too. When you said you loved me, I didn’t want to let it sink in because I didn’t feel I could deal with you ever taking it back.”

“I would never take it back, Ellie. I love you. More than anything,” Wyatt says. “And that’s why I’m thrilled about my decision.”

“What about your career?”

He smiles at me. “My career will go on just as it should. I’m starting a new chapter. Joe was right. A player should quit while they still have a passion for the game.”

He seems entirely self-assured as he says this. I don’t detect even a hint of hesitation.

“How is this possible? Only two weeks ago, you said you don’t know how to live your life without being part of the league?” I ask.

Wyatt cups my face. “You made me realize that my road forward wasn’t becoming a bitter veteran in the NFL. I want to retire. I want to be close to you here. And I’m looking forward to transmitting all I know to these kids.”

His radiant smile reminds me of how happy he looked when he was teaching the boys in the park. Suddenly I feel less worried that it’s only a grand gesture he could regret later.

“So you teamed up with my brother and my friends on this, huh?” I ask.

“I wanted to make sure you knew this was really happening and not just something I planned on doing,” he explains. “I even told my mother and father that I—”

My brows shift upward. “Your father? You spoke to him?”

Wyatt nods. “Yes. I’m committed to a life with you, where only the good from my past comes with me. So I forgave my dad.”

My heart feels like exploding. “Oh, Wyatt, you leave me speechless.” I raise myself on my tiptoes and brush the tip of my nose on his. “This means you’re sure about moving to Phoenix next year?”

“I’m ninety-nine percent sure,” he answers, smiling.

My brows arch. “Ninety-nine percent?”

“The last percent will come once I hear you say what I’m hoping you felt when we kissed.”

He slides his hands to the lower part of my back.

My lips curl up, and I push myself even closer to his chest until my mouth is almost touching his. “Wyatt Harrison, I’m in love with you. Still and forever.”

He grins. “Now, that’s a hundred percent. Probably even two hundred.”

He closes the distance between our lips, and applause fills the air. That’s when I remember we aren’t alone. Our talk entirely blocked out the voice from the microphone and the stares of the audience.

“Shall we stop?” Wyatt murmurs. His fiery breath sends delicious shivers across my spine.

“No, I don’t care who sees us,” I say and press my mouth on his once more.

Wyatt must be glad about my decision because he eagerly picks up right where we left off. I snuggle up to his chest, and he deepens our kiss.

I close my eyes, and the cheering crowd around us disappears. All that remains are Wyatt’s muscular arms, familiar smell, and sweet taste.

Later I’ll have to thank my brother and my friends for rescuing me from my stubbornness and lack of courage. Without them, Wyatt and I might not have gotten our real second chance.

But for now, I just let the joy Wyatt’s lips unleash in me cascade over me, and I revel in the realization that sometimes cheating the laws of reason and love is exactly what leads us to our happily ever after.

Epilogue

(Wyatt)

TEN MONTHS LATER

“That’s it for today, folks!” I blow into the whistle I received from Devon to inaugurate my new coaching career.

The sharp blow cuts through the air like the song of a screech owl in the desert, notifying the players that their suffering is over.

The exhausted boys roar with clear delight, and I can’t blame them. Although today’s workout was the last before their (relatively brief) summer holiday begins, I didn’t go easy on them.

I brought them to their limits—not to enjoy their pain or to cement their acceptance of me as their new head coach—but to give them a glimpse of what they’re truly capable of and what we’ll reach for during our next season together.

Judging by their sweaty but grinning faces, I’ve hit the bull’s eye.

Zoe, Coach Jenkins’s old assistant, whom I kept on because I wanted someone who knows the school’s ropes, ushers the players inside the locker room with a loud, “C’mon guys, let’s hurry. The cleaning crew is arriving early today. All of you need to be gone by the time they get here.”

Everyone jogs behind her giant sneakers, except for one boy.

I recognize him as Terrance, our most ambitious junior varsity player, before he even takes his helmet off. He’s the only one who regularly stops me for some extra thoughts on his performance.

Though I’d planned on leaving immediately after the practice—I need to get to Daisy’s Creamery before Ellie does for a last check on the preparations—I smile at the boy. “Hey, Terrance. You were terrific today.”

Terrence always looks as if he’d run a mile, a constant tinge of red under his tawny beige freckled skin, but at my comment, his usual blush becomes even more intense. “Thank you, Coach Harrison.”

He scratches his curly hair as if unsure how to continue. His jugular artery pounds visibly on his neck.

Even after almost four weeks of working with them, the kids are still somewhat overly excited in my presence.

Zoe phrased it rather wittily once; she said all the Cougars seem high,