Chapter 3
3
Cade
Briar: Two touchdowns? That’s all? You’re slipping, Farmer.
Me: It’s all these rookies. I need my boys back to show off my swag.
Reid: What swag? Didn’t the camera catch you face-planting on the sidelines? Or was that just my imagination?
M an, I miss these guys. Everyone’s so busy now, we only get pockets of time to message each other. The texts come in short spurts. I won’t hear from them for a week, but then on a random day, we’ll text for hours. We try to Zoom once a month, but now that Reid is an NFL rookie, Lex is coaching, and Briar is caught up with the foundation, it feels like I’m the leftover friend who has ample time on my hands to sit around and think about how we’re not as close as we used to be.
Definitely not an ideal place to be in.
Me: Did it also catch me shoulder-checking a chick at the same time?
Briar: You didn’t!
Me: It wasn’t my fault.
Lex: What chick?
I want to write back that it wasn’t his ex if that’s what he’s thinking, but he gets touchy any time one of us brings her up. Poor Big Guy has terrible luck in the romance department.
Me: I don’t know. I tried to apologize but she yelled at me.
Briar: I like her.
Me: *middle finger emoji*
Briar: *laugh face emoji* You could use someone to bring your big head down a peg or two.
Me: Moi? I think you’ve got the wrong guy.
Me: And this guy is about to go to practice to show these rookies what’s up. I’ll talk to you guys la?—
I step on the heel of a shoe in front of me. The person lurches forward, barely keeping their feet under them and balancing a big jug of Gatorade in their arms.
The fan of black hair catches my attention when she whirls to glare at me. I tuck my phone into my pocket and give her a wincing grin. “Sorry.”
“What is wrong with you football players? Aren’t you supposed to be agile or something?” She turns back around and shuffles forward with the jug in her hands. “One tried to kill me last night, now there’s a guy completely oblivious to where he’s going.”
The assessment is pretty fair. “Actually, they’re not two separate guys. They were both me.”
She stops, and I almost run into her again. Turning to peer over her shoulder, she pins me with a laser scowl. “They were both you?”
“I’m really sorry.” Apparently my apology does nothing but make her angrier because her fingers clamp around the jug, their tips white. I hesitate because the feedback I’m getting says stay away , but I can’t. “Here, let me help.”
She steps out of the way. “I’m perfectly capable of carrying this without running into anything. I can’t say the same for you.”
I try not to let the budding smile cross my face. “Wow. I get the sense that you don’t like me. Everyone likes me.”
“It must be nice to be you. Congratulations.”
Feisty . “Actually, it is. Now let me take that for you.” She resists at first, holding on to the yellow jug for dear life, but I pry it out of her hands with a hard tug. I tap her arm with my elbow. “This is all part of my masterplan to make you love me.”
“Like everyone else?”
“Like everyone else,” I confirm.
She rolls her eyes. “Love is a disease. It’s a soul-sucking cancer that ends in death. If you’re the lucky one to die, you’re fine. But if you’re the one left behind, you wither away day by day, slowly deteriorating into a black hole of nothingness.”
I blink, moving the jug so I can peer at her. She’s completely serious. “That was a touch…grim.”
“Welcome to my world. Now, can I get the Gatorade back before Coach accuses me of trying to injure one of his players and ruining your chances of a Super Bowl or whatever?”
“ Star player ,” I preen, eyes lighting up with cartoon-like enthusiasm. “And it’s a championship. We’re not pro.”
The look she gives me says she honestly doesn’t care that I can make a joke or what the finer details of football are. The smirk dies on my face.
She reaches for the jug, but I refuse. “Tell me where you want it.”
“Wherever Coach usually puts it.”
I eye the bench ahead on the fifty-yard line of our practice field and start walking. “Who are you, anyway? His assistant or something? I haven’t seen you around before.”
“Or something.”
I roll my eyes. “Has anyone told you your conversation is second to none. Top notch. I’m absolutely enthralled.”
“No. Never.”
I peek around the jug. She walks forward with determination without a hint of a smile. She either doesn’t have a personality whatsoever, or truly doesn’t like me. It’s a shame because she’s pretty—scowl and all. Straight, shiny dark hair, high cheekbones flushed red, and the cutest button nose.
We finally get to the bench, and I set the jug where it’s been in all my five years with the Warner University Bulldogs. She presses down on the top, inspecting it for a moment, then spins and walks away without uttering another word.
Okay. That was…interesting . I can’t tell if this girl is intentionally moody because she doesn’t like football players in general, or if it’s really just me. “You’re welcome,” I call out, and she shrugs in response.
I watch her walk away, her black hair blowing toward me like shadowy tendrils. Love is a disease?, she’d said. But who says that?
The Bulldogs sweatshirt she wears swallows her. It’s about a size too big, the sleeves completely engulfing her hands. The faded jeans hug her thighs but are frayed around the legs. It takes me a minute to realize that she reminds me of Briar. Well, not the current Briar who’s thriving, but the Briar right after Brady died. She was so broken. When I looked at her, I could almost feel her pain. Everything she was feeling on the inside was worn like a suit of armor on the outside, like she was preparing for battle every single day.
Grief is sort of like that. Something you have to fight against or accept every day. Some days, it gets the best of you. Some days, you even want it to. But others? Grab your sword and shield because it will be a fight like no other.
Back then, Briar would say that love is a disease. Brady’s loss planted a hatred inside her. For her parents, for us, for the darkness threatening to take over.
That sentiment is too harsh, though. Love is so many things. I wouldn’t have gotten through the toughest times of my life if it weren’t for the friends I love like brothers and a sister. They’re everything to me.
I pull out my phone again and finish the last text to my friends and send it. Peering up, I spot just as the new girl slips into the locker room. She’s intriguing to say the least but romantic love scares me. Not because loving someone like that is hard, but because of everything else that goes with it.
An eerie prickle tingles up my spine. Yeah, I’m not ready to fall in love with anyone. I like all the fun parts about relationships. The flirting, dates, intimacy, but once real feelings get involved, I’m out. It’s been years since I’ve had a steady girlfriend, and I don’t mind saying that playing the field is exciting, adventurous, and way less complicated. All my casual flings knew from the beginning what I was willing to give, and real feelings never got in the way, much to my friends’ disappointment. They used to warn me that I’d get myself entangled and fall for someone, but I have a winning season in that department.
“Farmer, hey!”
I turn to find a group of girls just getting to the small set of bleachers that line the other side of the practice fence. I wave, and they wave back frantically.
Well, it would be rude not to go over and say hi.
The locker room door slams closed, and I turn to see Moody Girl returning to the field with sleeves of cups, not giving me a second glance. Shaking my head, I jog up to the fence where the girls have congregated.
“Hey, ladies.” I eye each of them individually. Cassie. Tina. And…Liz.
Marked safe from falling in love with the trio of them.
“Are you going to the Sigma Phi party tonight?” Tina asks, her copper hair in perfect face-framing curls.
“I don’t know,” I hedge. “I might’ve celebrated our win a little too hard.”
“But that was days ago,” Liz states with a smile, like she’s trying to win Warner football trivia.
“Well, the season is in full swing now. You know how it is. …But,” I give my trademark smirk to each of them, “never say never.”
“You’re such a tease,” Cassie remarks.
I shrug. “I can’t help it. If I say I’m going to be there, I’ll have too many girls lined up, and I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”
Tina leans in close to the fence, her manicured nails gripping the metal. “It’ll be our little secret, then.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Brooks jogging onto the field, ready for practice. Shit. I’m late . “Well, ladies, I better go. Maybe I’ll see you tonight.”
“Bye, babe,” one of the girls calls out.
I pat Brooks on the shoulder as I jog past. He’s routinely early to every practice, making the rest of us look like rookies, but it’s who he is. He’d rather be insanely early than one second late. The man is a beast.
On my way toward the locker room, I pass Aidan jogging with his helmet in his hands. “Fucker beat me again. I swear he keeps getting here earlier and earlier.”
I chuckle. As our new QB1, taking over Reid’s spot, he’s set to become captain next season, and he’s had this weird competition with everyone, trying to prove himself against nearly impossible standards.
I burst through the locker room doors and start galloping around. “Let’s gooooooooo!”
High-pitched whistles and cheers rise up when I pass, holding the reins on my fake horse. My teammates whoop it up while simultaneously shaking their heads.
Coach steps out of his office with a clipboard in his hands. “If you weren’t such a good receiver, you could be the mascot. Get your ass ready for practice, Farmer.”
“I might have to take you up on that next year when my eligibility runs out.” I spin a fake lasso and catch Coach just as he frowns at me.
The look he gives me tells me to stop messing around, so I settle at my locker and sit. Lex used to flank me on the left, with Reid on the other side of him. And now every time I look to my left and find a new teammate there, my heart constricts. It’s the name of the game, but I’ve played with those guys since peewee, so it’s been a hard pill to swallow.
Even worse is that I know I’ll never play with them again.
“If you’re the one left behind, you wither away day by day.”
Huh. Maybe she’s got a point…