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I realize scrutiny is a pain in the—”
    Josh snorted and cut in quick. “Don’t expect me to argue the point.”
    Peyton speared him with a gauging look. “Be that as it may, you’ve got nothing to be afraid of. Keep working it. You’ve improved every time I see you and it’s early into rehab.”
    “I know, but I want more—you and the team need—”
    “Man, you are always pushing yourself. I like that trait.”
    Josh remained neutral while Peyton picked up a rubber band and began to stretch and wind it between his hands. “So what’s on your mind?”
    “New York.”
    Peyton tilted his head. Waited.
    “I want to go home, coach. I need to focus, and I need some privacy while I retrain and recover.”
    “New York.” Peyton didn’t seem surprised by Josh’s pronouncement, simply curious.
    “For a month, maybe two, depending on how I feel. I’m going to spend a little time upstate with my family and friends, then I’ve got a big charity event in the works at Lincoln Center for Goal to Go. New York is where I want to finish rehab. I need my hometown and my family right now. I need my foundation. I want to get back on my feet in a way that will allow me to focus without worrying about the entire football fan base in the state of Michigan dissecting my every move. Plus, I don’t need the added pressure of every reporter in suburban Detroit chronicling wobbly passes and mistimed throws while I find my feet, and my arm again. Moving things off-site will be the best thing to do all around.”
    Yes, he needed Westerville. Yes, he needed home, old friends, and security. Most of all, though, he needed Maeve Callahan. Without seeing her, there was no way he could move into the future. Odd that football, logistics, and life choices—the very elements that had forced them apart—drove him toward her once again, and with a mysterious, unwavering power.
    “I’ve set up training sessions and rehab at a private facility just outside the city. I’m subletting an apartment in Manhattan until I’m ready to come back to Michigan, maybe early in the summer, just before training camp.”
    Peyton chawed on his ever-present gum, stared at Josh flatly, and then nodded. “I think that’s a good call, and a strategy a lot of players utilize when recovering from an injury. But I want you to leave here realizing something important.”
    “Which is?”
    Peyton yanked a Detroit visor from his head and tossed it lightly to the surface of his desk. Inching forward, he leaned against forearms that were still strong and beefy despite the onset of middle age. “Which is the fact that you’re going to be back, Josh. Full throttle. There’s no doubt about that within the franchise, and certainly no doubt about it in my mind. You’re young, you’re strong, you’re committed. Beyond that, you’ve got mad skills and a rock-solid work ethic. I realize you need to basically re-learn how to throw a ball, but your accuracy, which has always been incredible, might come back better than ever. Hold on to that.”
    Peyton’s straightforward decrees weren’t meant to placate or mollycoddle; Josh appreciated the support. He stood and extended his hand which was promptly swallowed by that of his coach. “Thanks, Peyton. The vote of confidence means a lot to me. I intend to earn every bit of that trust.”
    All the same, Josh needed to get away. Urgency burned. He wanted to return to what he knew he needed most.
    Maeve Callahan.
     
     
     
     
     

2
     
    “A surprise? Liam has a surprise for us? What on earth could that be?”
    Naturally it was Maeve’s voice Josh heard first. Nerves coiled tight, he shuffled his feet, waiting in the hallway just outside a conference room at the Westerville offices of Zion’s Peak records. Hidden from those inside, he heard her speak, and that alone was enough to push his senses into a free-fall.
    “That’s all he’d say. Even to me. And I’m his wife, for heaven’s sake.” That comment came