IMAGINES | travis kelce + taylor swift (1)

26.1 | no more football

26.1 | no more football

highly requested. especially by jes.
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[TRAVIS]

"I'm sorry this is how it has to be, bubba," Taylor says sympathetically. She plops herself in the center of my lap, cupping my cheeks in her hands while pressing a gentle kiss on my forehead. "I know you were really looking forward to another few years."

I take a deep breath, wrapping my arms around Taylor's shoulders. "I was hoping I could have a one or two year extension. I knew I didn't have too much time left in the clock left, but I was hoping it wouldn't end over something like this."

She flattens her lips on my eyebrow, then on my cheek. "I know, honey. This isn't the end of you, though, you know that. This is what has to happen, baby. You can't play with a shattered knee."

"I was playing just fine with a shattered knee," I argued, placing my chin over her scalp.

"No you weren't," Taylor replies firmly. "You were playing when you shouldn't have been. You pushed yourself too hard. If you had spoken up and taken the time off you needed..."

I groan, my head falling back. "I know. I was stupid."

"You're just stubborn," she tells me.

I should have listened to Taylor and Reid when they suggested I take a week off. The pain was terrible, but I forced myself to power through it. I played fine, or so they say, but I didn't feel fine. The only person who could see through me so clearly was Taylor. At first, like myself, she thought it to be muscle strain or internal bruising as usual. But, after a few weeks, the pain became harder to bare. I struggled through it in hopes that it'd go away, that I could grin and bare it until the season was over. Taylor begged me to stop with tears in her eyes, Coach Reid was right behind her. He told me that a trophy wasn't worth losing a million dollar player. I refused to listen, though.

I scoot her into the crook of my neck, rocking her back and forth. If one thing happened differently, would everything be different today? What if I didn't overrun myself that day? If I hadn't jumped up the second after I rolled my knee...If I had called the medics over, or if I had stumbled off the field with my fist held high, could this not have happened? Would this have ended better? An ACL injury was nothing to pass a laugh about in the NFL, but boy, did I play. I'm still considered young in the NFL, only thirty-five. I ruined a good five years left of my play.

I feel hot tears dripping down my face and hearing Taylor sniffle with a whimper. My heart drops for her. Taylor knew how much this stupid career meant to me. This is what brought us together. Her family and mine. We knew this chapter of our lives would close soon, but we didn't expect it to be so soon on such an unfortunate circumstance. My team made it to the Super Bowl this year, and though I have missed the last three games, I wanted to close my career on a good note. Even if we didn't make it, which I was confident we would, I wanted one last play on the field with my guys. Pat, especially.

I shift a little, moving her off my lap. I put my hand in hers and guide the other up to her face to wipe off a stray tear. "Baby," I mutter, turning her chin with my finger. "Look at me, a'right?"

She nods, indicating to me that she's read to hear what I have to say. One thing about Taylor: no matter how sad, stressed, angry or frustrated she was with me, she always listened to me. Even if she knew it wasn't going to be what she wanted to hear. Taylor was open to let me make my own decisions, but not when it effected my well being.