We run another series. My mechanics are fine. My head is nowhere near the field. The small velvet box buried at the bottom of my gym bag burns like a brand. It’s been there for weeks—waiting, waiting, waiting. Waiting for her to stop looking like she’s holding herself together with sheer will. Waiting for her to remember who she is without me having to remind her every day. I thought her birthday might be the moment, but after last night and showing her my tattoo idea this morning… handing her that gift now would feel like throwing an anchor to someone already treading water. She’d see it as me trying to trap her when all I want is to keep her from drifting any further away.
“Jeez, Evans,” Dax pants as we break from a passing drill. “You look like someone just shot your dog.”
“I’m fine,” I mutter, pushing Dax away.
“You sure?” Reese says quietly, appearing at my side. “Yeah, and I’m celibate. You’ve thrown, what, three ducks in ten minutes? Something’s in your head.”
I don’t answer. Can’t. If I open my mouth, it’ll all come spilling out—the way Honey trembled in my arms like she was holding herself together by threads, how small her voice sounded when she said she didn’t know who she was without me, how Jenni has somehow wedged herself between us and I don’t even know how.
My silence is answer enough, because Reese lowers his voice.
“Did something happen with Honey?” Reese asks carefully, his tone the same one Coach uses when he’s trying to pry an injury confession out of someone too stubborn to admit they’re hurt.
I force a shrug, my grip tightening around the bottle until the plastic creaks. “She just… showed up last night.”
Reese tilts his head, waiting for me to go on.
“Drunk,” I add, feeling like shit admitting this. “Barely able to stand. She wouldn’t tell me what happened, just—”
I cut myself off, my jaw locking because I’m not going to tell him about how she begged me to touch her and if I didn’t, she’d fall apart completely.
Reese exhales, long and low. “Shit, man.”
“Do you think it’s… the noise?” he asks, and I know what he means. It’s the pressure, the trolls, the speculation. Everyone knows about it, but it’s hard to physically do anything.
That’s what hurts the most. I have to watch the love of my life get hurt because no one understands her.
“Maybe,” I admit, because I can’t tell him the truth—that it’s more than that. That it’s her dad, it’s the internship she feels forced to take, it’s Chris showing her there is silence if she’s looking for it. And the biggest thing… it’s Jenni.
Before I can say anything else, Sebi and Dax come bounding over like a pair of Labrador puppies who’ve never known a day of subtlety in their lives.
“Yo, Evans!” Sebi smacks my shoulder pads hard enough to rattle my teeth. “Do you remember that brunette I met in Michigan? The one in the bar?”
“No,” I deadpan.
“She was fucking unreal.”
“I should care, because?”
“Because you cockblocked me, bro,” Dax replies, pushing my shoulder. “Thought she was interested in me until she kept asking about the starting quarterback. When I asked for her number, she asked for yours.” Dax shakes his head. “Fucking disappointing.”
“Did you give her my number?” I growl, still pissed about the last time they did that.
“Relax,” Sebi says, waving me off. “We didn’t give her anything. Just said you were taken. She looked really disappointed though.”
“Heartbroken, honestly,” Dax agrees with mock sympathy. “Asked if we were sure you weren’t available for ‘just one night.’ Had to let her down easy.”
“Great,” I mutter.
Another story. Another girl. Another rumor waiting to be weaponized against my broken honeybee.
“You two are morons,” Mason says, smacking them upside the head so hard their helmets clink.
“Ow—what the hell, Mas—”
“You know,” Mason cuts Dax off, “Evans actually has plans for his career that don’t involve screwing his way through every bar from here to Canada.”
“We’re just having fun,” Sebi protests, rubbing his helmet-covered head as though it will do something.