PROLOGUE
15 years ago…
Beau
The stadium buzzes with lights, cameras, and crackling energy. It's an early-season game, so the stakes aren't that high, but every game I play against my best friend, Rein Winkelmann, is like the Super Bowl to me.
Two small-town childhood best friends playing in the NFL. This is the stuff of dreams. Rein is more like a brother to me than my own flesh-and-blood brothers. We've been inseparable since first grade. I still remember him marching up to me, all confident and easy with his jet-black hair, catlike green eyes, and porcelain skin. I was hopelessly lost at the cubbies, and he pointed out what went where without making me feel dumb. That was it, we became friends on the spot.
Even at such a young age, we bonded over football. But there was something deeper there, too. A soul-level, once-in-a-lifetime friendship connection I cherish more than anything.
I line up with the guys. Nerves hum under my skin, my cleats bite into the turf, and the noise of the crowd swallows my thoughts. The opening quarter unfolds in efficient snaps and controlled gains, and it ends with the score locked at 3–3.
I spot Rein across the field during the break, helmet off, drinking water, listening intently to one of the coaches. An electric charge shoots up both my arms when his head swings my way. Not like I can wave exactly, but he gives the smallest tilt of his head, and I return it.
If only our families would take a leaf out of our book. I mean, seriously, how long can two families argue over a freaking bridge? But the location of the Gilberton Bridge wasn't an isolated, one-off incident; it was the latest in a long-standing rift between our families dating back centuries to when Gilbertonwas nothing more than swampland and a few dirt roads no map bothered marking.
But we never let the ongoing feud between our families affect our relationship. His parents may hate me, my parents may tolerate Rein, but nothing can come between us. He's got my back, and I've got his. Always have and always will.
Coach calls a quick slant. Simple, fast, no time to hesitate. I nod, already picturing the route, the timing, the window. With the score tied, it's the kind of play that could crack something open.
The new quarter kicks off, and I run the play clean, everything smooth and timed the way it should be. I turn for the ball, already thinking catch-and-go, but the timing is off. My cut comes a hair early. Rein closes a hair too fast. Neither one of us has the space to adjust.
We collide with full force, hitting the turf hard, helmets and limbs snapping in every direction. My vision tunnels, pain explodes through me, and something inside just gives.
The world tilts.
Lights go fuzzy.
Then everything goes black.
1
Present day…
Rein
Sabrina:Did you pick up Grandma's serum from the spa?
An unimpressed sound escapes out the corner of my mouth.
Coming home to Gilberton is always a humbling experience. It doesn't matter that I'm a fully grown thirty-eight-year-old man. Or that I've won the Super Bowl. Or that I can, in fact, read the list she supplied me with before sending me out to run errands for her. As much as we adore each other, to my sister, I am, and will always be, the kid she loves bossing around.
Me:Yep. Got it. And the dry cleaning and the flowers.
I press Send, forgetting to add I'm on my way to pick up her favorite wine from the boutique cellar.
Sabrina:What about the wine for dinner?
I groan, pulling up to a red light, and reply.
Me:On my way to get it now.
I know, I know. Texting while driving is bad. But not responding to Sabrina is worse. Believe me.
The light turns green. I switch my phone to silent and tuck it under the grocery bag on the passenger seat. There. No more distracted driving.
The bridge that connects north and south Gilberton is up ahead. My lips purse. Without fail, every single time I see thatbridge, I think of Beau. How can I not? It’s the biggest reason our families hate each other.
