“The thing is,” I say, “I don’t disagree with him. James is meant to play football. I don’t want to stand in the way of that.” “Still,” he says. “He shouldn’t have gone behind his back like that. James is terrified he’s going to lose you because of him.” “Not because of him.” I bite my lip. “I just don’t know if I could live with myself if he does something like that again, only with an entire career on the line. If he ruined things for himself, because of me, for me . . . it’s just . . .”
