In this time and in this place, he wanted to play. More, he wanted to leave a legacy on the field, to be remembered as his big brother was remembered. As a player who’d elevated the game and whose plays were still considered some of the best ever made.

His one goal.

And he was failing. Over and over again.

His stiff shoulders jolted at the sudden knocking on his door. Wouldn’t be his family, and the residents of this building were all high profile enough that they were careful about not allowing strangers to slip in behind them.

Had to be a neighbor.

Welcoming the opportunity to distract himself, he went to the door and glanced absently at the image shown on his little security screen. What he saw had him wrenching open the door. Because he’d forgotten that he’d recently given an entry code to his building to one other person.

“Catie. What the hell are you doing here?” he said even as he fought the urge to haul her close to him—right where she should be. He’d hated sleeping alone last night but had decided it was the best option given the early meeting.

“Good morning to you too, hotshot.” Dressed in jeans and a comfy sweatshirt in dark green, she walked inside.

He couldn’t help but brush his hand over her abdomen as she moved past. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but I have to leave soon.”

“I know.” Turning, she cupped his face in her hands and kissed him until he was hard and his heart thundered. “How’s that for a distraction?”

He pressed his forehead to hers, let her stroke his nape. “Wish I could take you with me.”

“I, unfortunately, will not fit in your pocket, but I got you something just as good.” Reaching into her citrus-orange handbag, she pulled out a small green stone.

He stared at it for a while before starting to laugh. “No fucking way! You still have it!” Taking it from her, he stared at his handiwork. He’d been sixteen then, and for whatever reason, had decided to give Catie a pet rock. He’d painted it green, put googly eyes on it as well as a button nose of a tiny black pom-pom, then left it on her pillow when they went camping. “He still has his eyes!”

“Of course. I take care of my pets. His name’s Rick the Rock.” Her lips twitched. “You were a weird boy, Daniel.”

“Yes, but you like me weird,” he said, then—without thinking—leaned in to kiss her. It felt good, like life flowing into his body. “Thanks, princess.” The latter came out soft, tender, and he wanted to blush, but she was looking at him with eyes that weren’t hard or amused or scared off, so maybe it was all right.