“Yes, he will be home after camp,” I assure her.
“Yes,” she mumbles as her eyes start to close.
And for the first time since Aaron came back, I believe everything will be okay.
No doubt.
No fear.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-TWO
Liam
Everything seems louder when your head isn’t right. Whistles feel sharper. Corrections seem personal. Mistakes amplified.
And today? I’m one bad play away from snapping.
“Let’s go again!” Coach shouts.
I jog back to the line, sweat dripping from my face, trying to force my breathing into something controlled.
We’re running red zone drills. Short field. Tight windows. No margin for error.
This is where I usually thrive. Precision. Timing. Execution. Leadership.
But right now, my head is in New York. To Alie’s voice, telling me she loves me. To Sera’s soft voice, telling me about her day.
Then to picturing Aaron’s smirk when he thinks he has Alie where he wants her.
I clap my hands once. “Trips right, X slant.”
Brody lines up wide left, bouncing on his toes.
I snap the ball and drop back, but the pocket collapses faster than I anticipated, so I rush the throw, making it high. Too high.
Brody leaps for the ball, but it grazes his fingertips and hits the turf.
“Fuck!” I shout, frustrated with myself.
Coach blows the whistle. “Pitz! Set your feet.”
“Yes, Coach,” I snap more sharply than I intended.
Aston meets my gaze across the line of scrimmage, eyes narrowing.
We reset. I overcorrect and hold on too long. Sacked.
By Aston.
Coach throws his clipboard down. “What the fuck, Pitz? What’s going on with you today?”
Nothing. Everything.
I shake my head. “Sorry, Coach. I’ve got it.”
But maybe I don’t.
