In the locker room, the sound hit like a wave—music blasting too loud, laughter echoing off concrete walls, cleats scraping tile. Normal. Familiar. The kind of chaos I usually loved because it drowned everything else out. Quinn was already mid-story, hands flying as he reenacted some imaginary defensive breakdown. Jordan lobbed a towel at my chest as I walked past.
“You’re smiling,” Jordan said, squinting at me like I’d grown a second head. “That’s fucking unsettling dude.”
“I’m not smiling,” I shot back, dropping my helmet into my locker.
“You absolutely are,” Quinn added. “Either something good happened, or you’ve finally snapped and this is your villain arc. That would be fun to watch though, not gonna lie.”
I peeled off my pads, the weight hitting the floor with a dull thud. “Relax. I’m allowed to be in a good mood.”
Oliver caught my eye from two lockers down. He didn’t say anything at first. Just watched me the way he always did, like he knew better than to jump into the noise.
When Quinn drifted away, Oliver stepped closer, voice low. “You good?”
“Yeah,” I said—and this time, it wasn’t a lie I told out of habit. Sure, my mind was stretched in every direction, but Ichanneled the energy on the field today, and it worked. If I could continue to push all thoughts of Miles, Nat, my parents, and Em away when I was in the game, I’d be undefeatable.
He tilted his head slightly. “You look… lighter. Why? Why are you lighter?”
I huffed out a breath, rubbing a hand over my jaw. “Trying something new.”
Oliver nodded once, satisfied. He didn’t ask follow-ups. He never did. That was why I trusted him. We had a solid understanding and gave each other the space we needed. I loved the guy, but my mind was so full from all the other shit, and I had to learn to deal with that first. I plopped down, checking my phone when Oliver hit me on the shoulder. “What was that for?”
“After this game, we’re doing happy hour. The Brotastic Five.”
“Oh god.” I pinched my nose. The name was so damn stupid. It truly was. But Callum, Ivy’s husband and Oliver’s best friend from college, named the stupid group chat that, and it unfortunately stuck. It was Callum, Oliver, Jordan, me, and Quinn. How the fuck Quinn kept popping up in my life annoyed me, but he was honestly a good dude.
“The bros are getting restless. We haven’t had a night out in a while, and Sloane is on me to initiate it.”
“I can’t easily… go out anymore. Not with Miles.”
“You know Ivy, Sloane, or your girl Em would help with that.” Oliver squeezed my shoulder. “Think about it. We can also have him in on the fun too. Brotastic plus a pipsqueak.”
My lip twitched. Loved referring to Em asmy girl.She damn well was. “Imagining Miles at a bar with us hitting a hard glass of milk does bring me more joy than it should.”
“You’re getting in the spirit. After Sunday, we’ll talk.”
He let me go, and I sighed, grateful for him and the team. They’d kept me going when Nat died and my world upended.They brought us food, made sure I showered, and were the best guys anyone could ask for. And then, I’d disappeared on them. Guilt pinched at my chest, the ever so familiar ache of regret blooming.
I’m a disappointment.The word kept reappearing, and I shoved it away, refusing to let that cloud my mood. It didn’t matter how many times my parents or older coaches had said it. Em and I had a date tonight, and that was something I never thought I’d have.
My phone buzzed in my hands, pulling me from my spiral when my parents’ names popped up. That didn’t help shit. Their messages were all the same bullshit.
You’re being unreasonable.
This doesn’t have to be public.
We’re trying to protect him.
Think about how this looks.
Protect him.
Like I hadn’t been doing exactly that since the day Nat died.
The thought of my sister hit like it always did—sudden and sharp and impossible to prepare for. One second she was there, loud and opinionated and so sure I’d screw this up. The next, all I had left were memories and a kid who looked at me like I hung the moon.
I showered fast, letting the water pound against my neck, eyes closed as I leaned my forehead against the tile. Nat would’ve loved Em and Miles together. She knew how much I loved her in secret and had teased the hell out of me for not asking her out. She told me to stop being an idiot and let myself be happy so many times.
The grief sat heavy in my chest as I dressed, pulling on a clean shirt and stuffing my practice gear into my duffel. I checked my phone again on instinct.
