FOURTEEN
CHASE
The wheels of my truck crunch over the dirt and gravel of the road leading up to the main ranch house. It doesn’t matter that I grew up here, that I’ve driven this road hundreds of times and spend half my time living here—the view of Oakwood Ranch still steals my breath away. The distant, white-capped mountains that seem to cut into the sky. The foothills of brown rock and gold and orange leaves, rolling all the way down to the edge of the ranch land and the new fences that surround paddocks of rich green grass. All of them now filled with the horses Dylan bought last year, coats of black and chestnut and gray.
Sometimes I still can’t believe a drunken decision in a bar one night has led Dylan to this life. Nearly two years recovering from an ACL tear that killed his career in the NFL, and now here he is—part cowboy, part horse-whisperer, stepdad, married, a baby on the way. There were dark times for him, but I’ve never seen him more content than he is with his boots in the dirt and Izzy’s hand in his. Dylan has found the kind of life I can’t imagine ever finding for myself.
Dylan’s gonna make one hell of a dad. I already see it with the kids he coaches and with Madison, too. He’s patient and kind, and full of warmth. Whereas I can’t even buy a damn house plant for my apartment. I know Serena was frustrated with me back in the store. I tried to explain it, but admitting the truth was hard. The Sullivans have given me everything I could have ever wanted. Love, support, fun, and a career doing what I love. I’ve never, not for one single moment, felt anything less than a brother and a son. And I hate that it’s starting to feel like that hasn’t been enough to heal the damage my biological parents did by abandoning me.
I shift my eyes to Serena as I slow down the truck and park beside Dylan’s Raptor. She’s been quiet on the journey, staring out the window, making whatever calculations she makes to predict the weather with freakishly perfect accuracy. I want to cut through the silence that’s settled since we left the store. I’ve never felt the need to fill our silences before, but this one feels different.
Last night, I watched her fall asleep next to me, and when she shivered, I moved her into my arms without thinking. I lay awake most of the night, staring at the ceiling, trying to silence the part of me that wanted to wake her up and kiss her again. Not for the cameras, not for show, but for me.
I kill the engine and shut down thoughts of last night. “Ready?” I ask.
Serena shoots me a smile, reminding me of the girl I met in third grade who could drink an entire chocolate milkshake in under six seconds.
We step through the screen door and into the kitchen. It’s a wall of warmth and noise. Jake and Harper are sitting at the table. Mama’s setting out coffee mugs, the smell of the earthy grounds thick in the air. Dylan and Izzy are leaning against the kitchen worktop with Flic beside them. It’s the first time I’ve seen her away from The Hay Barn in months. Her white-blonde hair is braided back in its usual style, but she’s swapped her black tank and tight jeans for a red Stormhawks hooded sweatshirt.
Buck barks a greeting, bounding over to us in a clatter of paws and swishing tail.
“We were starting to wonder if you two had eloped,” Jake calls.
“We were downtown,” I say, grabbing two mugs of coffee and adding creamer before passing one to Serena. “Shopping.”
“Attempting to shop,” Serena corrects with a playful eyeroll that makes me huff a laugh. Maybe I imagined the awkward silence a moment ago.
I spot a plate of blueberry muffins on the table and beeline for them, taking a seat beside Jake and biting into the warm, sugary center.
“What’s going on?” I ask between mouthfuls as everyone takes a seat around the table. “If this is a surprise intervention after that toothpaste commercial, don’t worry. I’m retiring from acting.”
Mama smiles as she shakes her head. “Flic stopped by for breakfast this morning. I thought you should all hear what she told me.”
We all turn to Flic, and I catch the same determined glint in her eye I see at closing time when she’s kicking out the stragglers, myself included. “I’ve been hearing some worrying things about the state of the Stormhawks finances,” she says. “I was hoping it was nothing, but last night I overheard two of the Stormhawks management team in the bar talking about the sale of the club.”
Serena gasps, the sound sharp as a shocked silence falls over the kitchen.
The Stormhawks are in trouble? The Huberts are selling? I feel like I’ve just taken a helmet to the chest, and by the looks on everyone else’s faces, this news has winded them too.
“They can’t,” Jake says, as stunned as I feel. “It’s one of the last family-owned teams.”
“Larry Hubert started the team in 1959,” Dylan adds.
“And Don would never?—”
“Don’s in his eighties now,” Mama says, straightening her shoulders, all business. “He’s just one member of the board, alongside his two daughters and two grandsons. Sadly, it seems none of the younger generations have Larry or Don’s business sense or share the same passion for the club.”
“If a conglomerate buys the team, they’ll gut it,” Jake says. “It’s always the same. They sell the top players, bring some money in, and rely on the rookies to carry the club for a few seasons. Watch to see if they sink or swim then start from scratch. New players. New sponsors. New ethos.”
“All the outreach programs and support for the city will be slashed,” Dylan adds with a deep scowl. “A lot of kids are gonna suffer.”
“It could just be talk,” Flic says quietly. “But I wanted you all to know.”
From across the table, Serena shakes her head. “I think it’s more than talk.” All heads turn to her. “Liv overheard that some of the cheer coaching jobs might go part-time or be cut altogether. I hoped it wasn’t true, but if they’re in financial trouble…”
I sense Serena’s fear deep in the pit of my stomach, knowing how much working with the cheer team means to her. And I know how tight things are for her already. I watch her calculate if she can afford a second iced coffee. I know there are months she barely scrapes by with rent, bills, and groceries. Going part-time would crush her dream. I’ve offered to help her out too many times to count, but she always refuses. It kills me to think her dreams might be crumbling right alongside mine. I love playing quarterback, but the idea of doing it anywhere but my home team feels wrong.
I take Serena’s hand across the table. Her fingers curl around mine. “Nothing’s certain yet,” I say.
“What can we do?” Flic asks, grabbing one of the muffins.
“I’ll do some digging with the magazine,” Harper says.
“Ryan asked to meet about official Stormhawks business,” Serena adds. “He deals with the staffing. I’ll meet with him and see if he knows anything.”
My jaw tightens and it’s a fight not to shake my head and tell Serena, The hell you will. No way do I want her meeting with her ass of an ex. An anger I usually only feel on the field starts to pulse through my body, and it takes everything to bite it back. Serena is a grown woman. She can take care of herself. I would never dream of telling her what she can and can’t do, even if I do want to pummel someone right now. Namely Ryan.
“Call me if you need backup,” I say quietly.
Our eyes meet and something unspoken passes between us. She knows I’ve got her back and she’s got mine.
Across the table, Mama looks thoughtful. “You know, it might not be a conglomerate. Look what happened with the New York Steelguards a few years back. One person bought the majority share of the team.”
“Some billionaire finance man who knows nothing about football or our club. How is that better?” Jake grumbles.
“One thing’s for sure,” Flic says, that glint in her eye again. “If the Stormhawks do get bought by a single buyer, they’ll be the most hated person in Denver. The fans are loyal—to the Huberts and the team.”
Mama nods. “But for now, all we can do is wait. You boys focus on your game. If we reach the playoffs, we might attract new sponsorship, and that could be the lifeline we need.”
We fall silent again, everyone lost in their heads, trying to imagine a future where the Hubert family no longer owns the Stormhawks, where Jake and I play for different teams, and Serena no longer coaches the cheer team.
It takes Madison bursting into the kitchen to lighten the mood. “Flic,” she yells, throwing herself into Flic’s arms.
“Hey, girl, whatcha up to?”
Mad waves a notebook in the air. “Planning our route for the Denver Fall Fair next Friday. Did you know it’s going to be Halloween too? I’m going as a Stormhawks tight end, like Dylan and Jake.”
“No offense taken,” I quip, sticking my tongue out at Mad.
She returns the gesture before turning back to Flic. “I want to go on every ride twice. And the ghost train five times. I think I’m tall enough for Vortex this year.”
“Mad,” Izzy says gently. “Flic might not want to?—”
“Oh, Flic wants to,” Flic replies, winking at Mad. “I’m game for every ride as many times as you want.”
Mad hisses a “Yessss.”
Izzy laughs. “You’re my hero. Have I told you that?”
“Every day,” Flic says with another wink.
“At least I’ve got an excuse to avoid the rides this year,” Izzy adds, patting her stomach and causing a goofball grin to spread over Dylan’s face.
“Everyone’s going, right?” Flic asks, looking around the table. “It’s the one Friday of the year I take off and you know I love to spend it with the Sullivans.”
Jake is first to agree. “It’s tradition. And our game is on Sunday that week.”
“It’s the Tidalrunners, right?” Harper asks. “I’m so coming to that one. What’s the temperature in Miami right now, Serena?”
“You’ll get daytime highs of eighty-six,” Serena replies without a moment’s pause. “It’ll feel pretty humid, but you’ll get plenty of warmth and sun.”
“Perfect,” Harper replies. “We’ll hit the fair next Friday night, then fly to Miami on Saturday.”
I glance at Serena. We’ve been going to the Denver Fall Fair together since the fifth grade, only missing it when the game schedule got in the way. It’s tradition. A ritual that’s always felt like ours.