It was the ‘I promise’ that had me glance up at him; I felt this huge ugly knot of dread creep up to the center of my chest. “I like it here.”

His green-brown eyes seemed so close to mine. “Remember all that money I made?”

The urge to punch him in the gut was still there, but instead I nodded. “What about it?”

“I can afford the best lawyers.”

“You want me to sue them?” I coughed out.

“If it’s necessary.”

Holy shit. “I don’t want to. I just want to play, here.”

“I know.” He gave my shoulders a squeeze. “If it comes to it,” the German continued, “we’ll worry about it. You’re the best player on the team. They won’t get rid of you.”

Another shot to the heart. Jesus Christ. The best player on the team? I felt greedy, like I needed to gobble up all these nice things and store them for a rainy day when he called me a slow-ass, or even one day when I was older and couldn’t play anymore. I could think back and remember the day the five-time World Player of the Year, The King, told me I was the best player on my team.

He shook my arm. “Yes?”

I nodded, still the slightest bit unsure. “Yes.”

Kulti nodded and blew out a breath. There were dark circles under his clear eyes, and he looked conflicted. “When I get angry I have a hard time controlling what I say,” he said, his chin tipping down.

“Oh, I know. Trust me.” I blinked. “Or don’t.”

The German gave an exaggerated sigh. “You are my best friend.”

I started to make a face like ‘yeah, right.’ Me? His best friend? I’d take ‘friend’. I took the title in the office because it seemed like such a monumental thing to say in order to get me out of trouble.

But… as soon as I started to make a face, I stopped. Kulti wasn’t a man that wasted his words, so… “You have a horrible way of showing it.”

“I know.” But he didn’t apologize. “I’ve done a great deal of things I regret now, and it’s difficult for me at times to cope with them.”

My eyes narrowed, curiosity prickling at me. I might never get a chance to encounter an apologetic Reiner Kulti again. Taking a quick look around, I made sure there wasn’t another person within listening distance and I whispered, “Did you really get a DUI?”

Answering the question wasn’t as easy as I’d hoped it would be, but with a great gulp, Kulti tipped his chin down.

Well. That wasn’t exactly shocking. He’d been blitzed out of his mind when I’d picked him up from that bar months ago. People made mistakes all the time. He had a right to make them as much as the next person. “Okay,” I told him simply. “Thank you for telling me.”

His gaze flickered from one of my eyes to the other before he took a shallow breath and swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the force. “I was in a bad place after I retired,” he explained in that low voice that I liked, unexpectedly. “I was very angry and I picked up a bad habit I’m not proud of.”

I nodded slowly, still keeping an eye out to make sure no one was around. “Do you need help?” I whispered.

Kulti’s eye started to twitch, but he shook his head. “I’ve been sober for over a year.”

I closed one eye and made a face. His timeframe was debatable.

“With the exception of that one day, I have no problem not drinking, but once I start…” Kulti knuckled his brow bone. This was hard for him to admit. Who wanted to admit their failures? Not me. Definitely not him. “I let myself down, and I know there are people that this news could disappoint even more. There won’t be any bars in my future anymore either way. I would rather stay home.” He nudged me. “Or at your home.”