“We were,” Drew says flatly. “Until some shit went down, and I didn’t fight hard enough.”
The words hit home. Didn’t fight hard enough. Is that me? I ask Honey to marry me every damn day. I try to protect her and hold on tight, but if it’s not enough, am I going to regret it?
“Consider yourself lucky,” Jacob mutters. “At least she’s not getting married.”
Drew takes in a sharp breath. “Have you replied to the invitation yet?”
Jacob shakes his head. “Have to by the end of the month, but it’s a lose-lose either way. If I accept, I have to sit there and watch the love of my life marry someone else. If I decline, it just proves I can’t handle it and I’m still in love with her, which will inevitably lead to my mom tiptoeing around me forever, knowing full well if she ever mentions the girl next door, I fall to my knees and cry like a bitch.”
I have no clue what to say, and it almost makes me feel like my problems with Honey are miniscule in comparison. At least Honey still talks to me.
“What about you, Evans? Got a girl?” Drew asks.
“Yeah, I've been with the same girl since high school.”
“High school?” His voice raises in surprise. “So she's the real thing, then?”
“I think so.” The smile creeps onto my face before I can stop it—Honey always does that to me—even with Chris and those texts clawing at the back of my mind.
“Then the best advice I can give you is to lock that shit down ASAP,” Drew says without hesitation. “Once you get into the NFL, it’s damn near impossible to find anyone genuine.”
“Yeah…” I drawl out.I’ve been fucking trying, dude.
Drew leans back. “Look, your salary is public. The girls who come after you? Gorgeous. Not gonna lie, but it’s hollow as hell when you realize none of it’s about you—it’s about what you can give them.”
I nod, chewing on his words. He’s not wrong, but it brings up something I’ve been trying to avoid thinking about. If the league chews guys up like that, what chance does a girl like Honey haveonce the spotlight finds her? She’s already paying the price just for being with me.
“She’s been dealing with harassment,” I admit. “She’s getting anonymous messages with rumors and Photoshopped images of me with other girls.”
“Really?” Drew asks with a low whistle. “They’ve really upped their game since we were there.” He elbows Jacob who shakes his head. “It’s fucked up what people will do to bring you down a peg or two, but she shouldn’t have to deal with that shit because she’s your girlfriend.”
Wife.I correct silently, but I don’t say it. “I’ve tried everything—campus security, new numbers. It never stops.”
Drew leans forward, his voice firm. “Then you’ve got to dig out the root. These things always start with one person. Find them, and the rest crumbles.”
Only one name comes to mind. Jenni. Though after today, maybe Chris deserves the spot right beside hers.
“Any woman who sticks with you through all that deserves to be appreciated,” Drew says. “Don’t fuck it up like we did.”
I swallow hard, the weight of his words landing square in my chest. Honey deserves more than what she’s getting, and I just don’t know if I can give her the life she deserves.
Jacob clears his throat, shifting the mood back to football as though he can feel the weight settling over the table. Soon they’re tossing predictions for the season, talking plays, and giving me advice on what they call my “last couple years” of college ball. I nod in all the right places, but my mind keeps circling back to Honey—on the harassment and the way she feels farther from me no matter how hard I fight to hold on.
By the time we step out into the night air, I’m grateful for the distraction, but itching to be alone.
“Thanks for tonight,” I tell Jacob and Drew as we stand outside the restaurant. “For the advice, not just about football.”
“Anytime.” Jacob claps me on the shoulder. “That's the brotherhood. Passing down what we learned—the hard way, usually.”
Drew nods in agreement. “Good luck with everything, kid.”
I shake their hands, promise to keep in touch, then head back to the team hotel with one thought burning through all the noise of tonight.
Honey.
Inside my room, I kick off my shoes and flop onto the bed, already pulling out my phone. It’s late, but I don’t care. I need to hear her voice.
She answers on the second ring. “Zach!” Her voice is sleepy, but I can hear her shifting in her bed. “How was dinner? I want to hear everything,” she says, perking up.