“Hey, man, I was just about to call you,” Jamar said as he leaned back in his chair. “I need the address of the school where I’m supposed to mail those autographed pictures.” He squinted at the screen. “Wait a minute. Are you in your home office?”

“Shocking, isn’t it?” his agent drawled.

“Did your wife and kids recognize you?”

“Not really. My youngest keeps calling me Uncle Kyle,” Micah said, referring to his twin brother, who was the other half of Hill Sports Management.

“As long as Rhea doesn’t call you that,” Jamar laughed, speaking of Micah’s wife.

His agent laughed along with him, then took a drink from the mug on his desk before continuing. “Is that what you were calling about yesterday?” Micah asked. “Those pictures?”

“Uh, not really,” Jamar said.

It had been less than twenty-four hours since he’d left that voicemail for Micah, but it felt like an eternity. It had been just before he’d called to check on Taylor and upended his entire world by inviting her to live with him.

But Taylor’s presence didn’t alter his reason for contacting his agent. In a way, she was the reason behind this call that Jamar had been putting off for weeks. Her ankle injury had brought things into perspective for him. He recognized the precariousness of her line of work, and how her livelihood could be snatched away as quickly as his football career had been taken from him. He wanted to be a success story for her, a shining example that she could broadcast to the world.

He’d vacillated over when to tell Micah about his decision to make a return to the NFL. He wanted to get a feel for how things were progressing under Taylor’s training program before bringing his agent into the mix. Jamar knew his body, and he knew that if he didn’t feel as if the work he’d done this past month was going to get him where he needed to be that he wouldn’t even bother telling Micah.

He was ready to tell him.

You sure about that?

He immediately silenced that bitch-ass voice in his head. Those twinges he’d felt in his knee were more than likely phantom aches. It wasn’t enough to derail his plans, not when he still had so much riding on them.

He was ready.

His body felt stronger, but even more important than that, his mind felt stronger. He believed in his ability again. The endurance he’d managed to build up these last few weeks had him more confident than he’d felt since that fateful Thursday last year when he injured his knee.

“I called yesterday because I need something from you,” Jamar said.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” Micah asked, his body leaning out of the field of vision as he reached for something to the right of his desk.