The way his eyes flutter closed just before his lips brush against mine.
I’ve fallen under a spell, and I can’t seem to break it, no matter how steep the cliff that is inevitably waiting for me. I may have already gone over. I can’t say for sure, but the burning hole growing by the second in my gut says that I’m falling. Hard and fast. And the crash is going to be brutal. Barely survivable.
“It’s obvious.” That’s what Coach Shuster said when he pulled me out to let me know Jayden wasn’t getting called up this time, and he worries that my judgement about his readiness is clouded.
It’s obvious.
I didn’t ask him to delve into the details of what that meant. He didn’t need to. It was pretty clear based on his follow-up.
“I’m sending you back to Sweetwater tonight, uust until the story settles down. We’ll reevaluate on Monday.”
He wasn’t mean. In fact, everything but his words felt optimistic. I think that’s why I ran out of the room so fast wheneverything was said and done. But when I replayed that small part about the story settling down, I got curious. I reconsidered the questions asked during our interviews.
Did we ever date in high school?
How long have we known each other?
Were the three of us—as in me and both Vargas boys—all friends?
Did our relationship ever get complicated?
A quick scan of social media filled in the blanks. Someone leaked a rumor, tipping the gossip side of the media to possible romance brewing in the clubhouse. A few trolls was all it took for people to start sharing photos of Jayden and my father back when he played for him. Of Jayden with me, from our yearbook of all things. Of Jayden with his brother. Of all of us as kids.
And then . . . the crash.
It felt so invasive, the stories written on our behalf so far from the truth it would have been laughable if it weren’t so fucking sad.
My life from thirteen years ago was suddenly crashing into my present, as if I was being forced to live in a loop. And now, I’m being sent home. Pulled away from the one thing that finally made me feel as if I’d made it.
A page ripped out of sports history.
My work might be erased. Trivialized.
Just like Coach Bastion wanted.
I don’t know how to process whatever might be coming next. It’s the mystery of trying to make it in this world. Someone is always coming after your job. And I don’t feel I can ask Coach Shuster questions. I don’t know if I’d like the answers. And I certainly don’t want to take things up with Campbell in PR, or with the human resources team in Texas.
So, I’ll go back to Sweetwater. And I’ll wait. While Jayden stays here.
My hands press against Jayden’s chest as he holds me in his arms. I need a breath, a moment to clear my head. I step back, and worry lines etch his face.
“I’m okay, Colby. I get it. Adriel is where their money is, and my brother is a great player. I’ll get my time.”
I shake my head and flop down on the bed. Fuck, here come the goddamn tears again.
“You don’t understand. This isn’t working. I’m messing everything up for you. Coach . . . he said . . .” I take a deep breath and look up into his eyes as he cups my face in his palms. I lean the weight of my head into one palm.
“He said it’s obvious,” I say.
Jayden’s eyes blink slowly, and he sucks in his upper lip before nodding.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” I laugh. It’s not the funny kind of laugh.
Jayden steps in closer, his knees brushing against mine. The pad of his thumb runs along my lower lip as his mouth forms a soft, soothing smile.
“Yeah, Colby. Okay,” he says, bending down and kissing me gently. I nearly lift off the bed as his mouth pulls away. This is how it happens. How I grow clouded. How I fall into obvious patterns. How people see.
