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“Selfish,” my mother hissed, her fear turning back into biting anger. “You were so busy playing hero on a field that you didn’t think about what this would do to us.”

“That’s enough, Mom,” Amber snapped, stepping forward. “He’s trying to protect us now. Maybe if you actually supported him instead of treating him like a disappointment, he wouldn’t have had to hide it.”

“Amber—” my dad warned.

“No, Dad,” Tina chimed in, crossing her arms. “He’s a great ballplayer. Not just good… Great. Talented. He’s making something of himself, and all you can talk about is how it inconveniences the family dynamic.”

I looked at my sisters, stunned. They weren’t just defending me, they were proud.

“You’ve been watching?” I asked.

Rachel pulled her phone out of her pocket, showing me a bookmarked page of game highlights. “Every Saturday. We sneak into the den after Mom and Dad go to sleep. You’re incredible, Trace. That touchdown pass in the last game? I almost screamed the house down.”

The knot in my chest loosened just a fraction. I had an army behind me I didn’t even know existed. But as I looked at my mother’s cold, retreating back as she walked out to the patio to start the grill, I knew the real battle hadn’t even begun.

“So, what’s college life like?” Tina asked.

They weren’t looking at me like a liar or a disappointment. They were looking at me like a hero. A lump formed in my throat, thick and stubborn. Everything I’d done, from the grueling practices to the bruised ribs and constant fear of Delaney’s shadow, I’d told myself it was for my future. But seeing the spark in my sisters’ eyes, I realized I was doing it for them, too. I was showing them we could break the mold our parents had cast for us. We could be more than just quiet, obedient kids from the suburbs.

“I had no idea,” I said.

“Well, try not to talk about it too much,” Amber said, her hand resting briefly on my forearm. “They aren’t ready to hear that we’re fans. Not yet.”

The sliding glass door creaked open, and my mom stepped back inside to grab a tray of seasoned patties. The warmth of the afternoon sun followed her, but her expression remained wintry. My dad slipped out with his brisket to avoid the looming confrontation.

“The coals are ready,” she announced, her gaze flicking to Rachel’s phone. “I expect everyone outside. We aren’t going to let Trace’s... extracurricular scandals ruin a family meal.”

The tension followed us onto the patio, where my dad took over the grill, the hiss of searing meat filling the silence. I stood awkwardly by the patio table, feeling my mother’s disapproval like a physical pressure. She was methodically setting out the potato salad as if she were laying bricks for a wall.

“So,” Tina said, her voice bright and forced, clearly trying to steer the ship away from the rocks. “Tell us about real college life, Trace. How’s the roommate situation? Is he as messy as you used to be?”

“He’s alright,” I said, grateful for the lifeline. “Mostly stays out of my way.”

“Forget the roommate,” Amber teased, leaning back in her chair with a mischievous glint in her eye. “What about the girls? A star footballer must have a line out the door. Is there someone special, or are you too busy being a celebrity to notice?”

The question had come out of nowhere and stunned me into silence. Immediately, the image of Dakota flashed through my mind. Not the reporter, but the woman who’d been tangled up with me just hours ago. I could still feel the pressure of her hands, the way she’d looked at me when the world finally fell away.

My silence lasted a beat too long.

“Oh, shit, there’s a girl!” Rachel laughed.

My mom paused, a serving spoon in mid-air. “The last thing Trace needs right now is a girlfriend. He’s already proven he can’t manage his priorities. Adding a girl to this mess would be the final nail in his academic coffin.”

She looked at me, waiting for me to agree, to laugh it off, to say I was too focused on my studies. But I couldn’t. I just stood there, the heat of the grill and the memory of Dakota’s touch making my skin feel too small for my body.

The look on my face must have been a dead giveaway.

“Oh, my God,” Rachel squealed, pointing a finger at me. “Look at him! He’s turning red! There is a girl!”

“Trace has a girlfriend! Trace has a girlfriend!” Tina chanted under her breath, her eyes dancing with delight at my discomfort.

“Shut up,” I muttered, just as my mom turned to face me. “Hey, Dad, need some help?”

My getaway was obvious, but I didn’t care. Right now, the grill was the safest place to be.

The afternoon sun was relentless, baking the scent of charcoal and marinated beef into the patio stones. My dad stood over the grill like he was guarding a border.

“Your sisters are in top form,” he said, signaling their arrival.