Derek“The Wall”Haskins—center back and gym fanatic—practically crushed me alive.
He squeezed like he was trying to test the durability of my ribcage.
“Welcome back, brother!”
Tayler“Turbo”Klein called me a proud asshole but then said he’d missed me too much.
Classic him: insult first, emotion later.
Harrison“Doc”Monroe gave me his usual stern look.
“Don’t do anything stupid again. The team needs you.”
Translation: he wants me here, even if he’ll never admit it.
Liam“Blaze”Whitford told me he’s going to kick my ass on the field, and we both burst out laughing.
That’s our language—challenges and jokes.
And then there was Javier“Saint”Delgado.
He looked a little awkward, hesitant to talk to me.
He hung back, and I know exactly why.
The captain’s armband isn’t on my arm anymore.
It’s on his.
When I saw him walk in wearing it, my stomach tightened for half a second.
Then I was the one who walked over to him. Gave him a pat on the shoulder.
“You earned it.”
He lifted his gaze, uncertain, like he wasn’t sure whether to thank me or apologize.
But he didn’t need to say anything.
He’s my friend, my teammate.
He’s talented, steady, disciplined.
He really does deserve it.
After the emotional reunion, Coach Heart blasted our eardrums with his whistle.
He said he was done with our “soap-opera nonsense” and ordered us to get our asses on the field.
Now we’re outside, on the grass.
The guys warm up quietly.
Someone laughs, someone focuses.
I’m in the middle: hands on hips, deep breaths, muscles remembering what to do even when my head’s somewhere else.
The coach’s whistle snaps me back.
