Chapter One
DECLAN
The whole flight home, I practiced what I would say to Sutton. I missed her. Damn, I couldn’t believe how much I missed her.
I felt the absence. Honestly, I’d felt the absence before I left for Seattle.
Ashton slept beside me with his mouth open and his neck pillow cockeyed to one side. I had time. I hate sleeping on planes. I think I want to know if we’re going down. I want to have those last few seconds to say my goodbyes.
I nudge Ashton before he can drool on me.
His head flops to the other side.
My thoughts drift back to what I’m going to say to Sutton.
I went. I saw. And I still choose you.
That was the version I kept coming back to. Simple. No hedging, no lengthy explanation, no bringing up my dad or the contract or any of the things that had been slowly building a wall between us before camp. Just that. Three words—I choose you.
That had to be enough. I think she'll feel a lot better now that I’ve gone to Seattle. I got that out of the way. It had been the elephant in our relationship for too long.
I played out our reunion a dozen different ways in my head. Her face when I walked through the door. Maybe she’d be waiting for me naked on her bed. Or my bed.
Naked was always a good way to greet a guy.
I played out every version of our reunion, including the bad ones.
Because, as much as I don’t want to acknowledge it, I can’t forget the email I saw about her housing. She never mentioned it, so I didn’t either. I told myself it was a misunderstanding. She never removed her name from the list of available housing.
That had to be it.
I am prepared for all the outcomes.
It's how I approach a game and everything. Know the play before you're in it.
The plane lands, Ashton wakes up, and then it’s a hustle to get off the plane and through baggage claim. It feels like it’s taking forever.
I’m so anxious to see her. With my practice schedule at camp and all the other activities, I barely had time to talk to Sutton. I missed her so much.
I notice something is off the second we pull into the driveway. I shake it off because I’m just being paranoid. It’s the weeks apart and the lack of communication that have me feeling jittery.
"Home sweet home," Ashton says, dragging his bag out of the Uber.
I don't answer. I'm already at the front door.
The house smells like it always does. Five male athletes living under one roof have a very particular odor. Not necessarily bad, but after you’ve been gone a while, you notice. The guys arescattered around the living room. Crew is texting on his phone while Holden and Pierce play on the PS5.
Everything looks the same.
But it’s not.
I feel it.
I drop my bag at the bottom of the stairs.
I don't even go to my room first.
Her door is partially open. It’s too quiet. No music. No muttering in frustration at a lesson she’s trying to read. It’s just still.
