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After another minute of silence I looked over at my brother to find him smirking. “What?”

“She gave you shit about your lack of a love life, didn’t she?”

How the hell? “Why would she do that?”

“Because she’s always shoveled your shit back at you. She’s the only one who can because she’s the only one you let get away with it.”

Except this time I hadn’t. I’d frozen up and refused to be honest. Because the truth would change everything. “There’s nothing wrong with my sex life.”

“Yes there is. It’s sad.”

“It’s not sad,” I bit back. “I get what I need when I need it.”

“And that’s sad. Empty. Lonely. Ask me how I know.”

My hackles went back up. “Look Isaac, I get that you want everyone to be as candy cane happy as you are, but you know full well that’s not how this shit works.”

Even if I thought telling Willa I’d caught feelings wouldn’t send her running for the fucking hills, I still wouldn’t because I wasn’t made to be a boyfriend. I wasn’t reliable. I was impulsive. I didn’t know how to be romantic or sweet.

All the things Willa Cooper deserved in spades.

Isaac turned in his seat, put the truck into gear, and rolled towards the parking lot exit. “Just…keep talking to me. And if Willa is pissed at you for the same reasons, just talk to her too. Tell her the truth. Your friendship has weathered a lot. Don’t doubt it now.”

We rode in silence after that. When we hit the bridge that connected our island to the mainland I rolled down my window and breathed in the scent of home. The brackish water under the mangroves gave way to salt then a sweet mix of hibiscus and other tropical flowers. When people pictured island life they usually imagined bright sun and sandy beaches, but the moment the bridge ended the island surrounded you with vegetation. Bushes, palmettos, swaying pines, and shady oaks. The beaches were there, but you couldn’t see them once the island had you.

Our family owned the marina on the bay side of the island, with our parents’ house a block away. Isaac and I each bought homes as well. We didn’t sell them when we moved up to Tampa because baseball careers were short and unpredictable. Calusa Key would always be home. Plus island real estate was a premium. Selling would be madness unless I never planned on coming home again.

Shells crunched under the tires as Isaac came to a stop by my front door. “See you in the morning.”

I got my bag from the back seat then gave him a wave. “Have a good night.”

Half of my house was a mess. Over the years I’d been slowly renovating it to be hurricane proof. During the winter break I’d dug in on the interior but hadn’t finished before training began. I figured it would give me something to do when I came home. But at the moment it annoyed me. Mostly because it reminded me I got behind because instead of talking to Willa I had stayed home and stewed.

I was a fucking idiot.

Like it was a magnet I went to a box on the bookshelf and flipped it open. Inside were old photographs from college. Willa was in almost every one. Smiling, laughing, and always tucked into my side. Tinkerbell and her Lost Boys.

I rubbed at my chest, wishing this fucking ache would go away.

I had to fix our friendship. Maybe her running just when I was ready to confess was a sign from the universe. A sign that romance was a bad idea.

I promised her that our friendship would remain intact no matter what and I was doing a shit job of it. I was mad that she ran. I was mad that she was freezing me out.

I was mad at her for behaving exactly like I had.

I was such a fucking hypocrite.

This had to stop. And I had to be the one to fix it.

5

WILLA

“Have the drone hover over midfield and stay there the whole shot.”

My assistant, Frannie, frowned. “The whole shot? You don’t want to follow the ball?”

I clamped down on my frustration. Frannie was a good assistant but she was a terrible photographer. She had no understanding of scope, scale, or composition. “Nope. I want a wide shot of the field to take in the amount of movement.”