Page 36 of The Sweetest Return

Distance had never made Andre Jones hard to find. His career happened in public, so pieces of his life had reached me whether I went looking or not. Championships. Interviews. Endorsements. Children in number twenty-two jerseys waiting behind ropes for his autograph. Women near him in photographs with captions designed to make strangers argue.

I saw enough to know when he played hurt.

I knew when the Forge won the championship.

I knew when the injury happened.

For two days, I refused to watch the footage. Then I did once and wished I hadn’t.

After that, his recovery became public too. Crutches. Training tables. Pool work. Controlled smiles that looked nothing like comfort. One photo stayed with me longer than the others. Dre outside a rehab facility, jaw tight, weight shifted carefully, a woman beside him with one hand near his arm and the other holding the car door open.

Aubrey.

At least, that was what the comments said.

I had stared at that picture until jealousy made me feel foolish enough to close the app. I had no claim to him. No right to wonder whether he leaned on her, whether she knew when pain made him quiet, whether she heard his voice first thing in the morning.

I wondered anyway.

Then the comeback talk faded, and his name started appearing beside businesses instead.

Jones Motor Group.

North & Vine.

Jones Outdoor.

He took the money and attention football gave him and built something that could stand after football took itself away.

I had been proud of him. Proud and heartsick and annoyed that pride could survive without permission.

I looked at the award graphic again.

Friday night.

My phone vibrated.

Damien: I’m beginning to feel like you moved just to end things.

I read it twice before setting the phone back down.

I owed Damien some kind of response. He had been good to me, and dragging this out because I did not want to hurt him was not making me kinder. Saying we could figure long distance out would be a lie.

Mama’s sigh earlier had only reminded me how easy it was to look at a man like Damien and see a future that made sense.

The problem was, seeing Dre’s face on my screen made another truth impossible to avoid.

Damien made sense.

Dre reached places in me sense had never been able to touch.

I locked my phone and left it on the island.

Thursday was four days away.

I should have gone back to unpacking.

Instead, I walked to my bedroom and opened the closet.