Page 66 of Hot Receiver

“Want and need are two different things. I need to know that I’m number one for my partner, and that he’s not afraid to let the world know it. I need to find happiness with someone who wants a future with me, the real me, and that he’ll love meand accept me for who and what I am. I need to be the center of someone’s world because I deserve that. And…” I pause for a second, my heart clenching tight. “I need to break free from the disappointment, anger, and guilt. I need to look forward, not backward.”

I swallow hard, but the lump in my throat is hard as a rock and just as big. “So, you have to let me go, too.”

Chapter 27

Matt

Let him go.

Let him go.

Fuck, it’s what I know I should do. It’s the right thing. I should just step aside and let him leave me here while he goes out and fulfills all his needs so he can finally be happy.

He deserves that.

Freedom. Honesty. Love.

All the things he needed that I could never give him.

The problem is, he may not need me now, but I need him.

When the world closes in, I feel like I can’t breathe properly unless he’s with me. When Rusty showed up at the stadium, Zak was the one I wanted to run to, the only one I wanted to confide in, the one who always cared, who gave so much and asked for so little in return.

It wasn’t until I saw him a few weeks ago that I realized I’ve been sleepwalking through my life since our days together at Ohio State. Our relationship may have been short, but it was powerful and intense and the best fucking time of my damn life.

Yeah, I know exactly what I need.

It’s Zak.

It’s always been Zak.

“What if I can’t?” I struggle for breath, my throat so tight I can barely squeeze words out.

“You have to.”

I sweep my eyes over his face. It’s impassive, just like his tone. His brows knit together, his dark eyes sad but resigned.

Raising my hand to his face, I drag it down the side of his beard, longing to feel the scrape of it against my cheek as he devours me in a deep kiss filled with promises I know he would deliver on because that’s just him. “You don’t want me to. If you did, you’d already be gone.”

“Don’t,” he mutters. But he doesn’t push me away. He doesn’t try to leave.

“What if what I want and what I need are the same thing?” My voice shakes. “What if they’re both you?”

He shakes his head. “They aren’t, and they never will be. You need football. You need it for the security of your family. You need that more than you need me. And that’s okay. I’ve accepted it. It’s time for us to be honest with ourselves. What I want is the ability to be free with someone else. But there are too many obstacles standing in the way of that ever happening, and feelings aren’t always enough to push past them. I won’t be someone’s dirty little secret, and you can’t be without your football career.”

Zak’s eyes drop to where my fingers clench his jacket. He puts his hands on top of mine, then looks at me with such longing that it practically makes my dick drip. But swirled in with that longing is acceptance… that what may have infiltrated his heart a long time ago needs to be eradicated like a fucking disease.

Forever.

The sides of my throat sting when I swallow, like two pieces of sandpaper rubbing together. He ruined me for anyone else a long time ago. If he walks away now, I won’t ever get over him. It was hard enough the first time. He’s carved himself into my heart, marking me with memories of what was, and hopes for a future of what could be if the stars aligned, and we became everything for each other.

“I can’t be withoutyou.” I sound so fucking needy right now, and I hate myself for it. But even though he’s still standing here, I can feel him slipping away and out of my reach.

He peels my hands off him, shaking his head. “Stop. This isn’t easy for me. But I’m not a yo-yo. I’m tired of feeling like I don’t know where I stand with you. When you came over after the game, I finally realized that it was up to me to break away because I knew you never would as long as I allowed myself to take whatever crumbs you dropped for me.”

Ouch. His words pummel me like a weight to the chest, and they fucking hurt. Mainly because they’re true. The times I’ve come to him, it’s because I want to lose myself in him, to have him fuck away the pain, to make my head and heart right.

Selfish. I’ve been completely wrapped up in my own shit, never once thinking about his, or how all of this might have affected him.

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