Chapter 23
The weight of the pass snaps into my hands with a satisfying smack, and the familiar sting bites across my palms. The field smells like freshly cut grass and sweat, and every sound is too loud—cleats tear at the turf, helmets clash, and whistles shriek across the gridiron.
But my head’s not in it.
While the rest of the guys reset for the next drill, I’m standing on the sideline with my helmet tucked under my arm as I read through Jenni’s text again.
My body recoils at the mere idea of having to spend any more time with Jenni, but after last night, I need to know what happened, and what the fuck she said to my girl to make her cower into herself.
Yes, I’ll help her plan this party, for Honey’s sake, because she deserves to see just how many people love her, but that doesn’t mean I won’t grill the shit out of her supposed best friend.
“Evans!” Coach Summers’s voice tears across the field. “You joining practice or just here to record your too-pretty face for TikTok?”
“Sorry, Coach,” I mumble, toss the phone on the bench, shove my helmet back on, and jog to the huddle.
We run another series. My mechanics are fine.
My head is nowhere near the field. The small velvet box buried at the bottom of my gym bag burns like a brand.
It’s been there for weeks—waiting, waiting, waiting.
Waiting for her to stop looking like she’s holding herself together with sheer will.
Waiting for her to remember who she is without me having to remind her every day.
I thought her birthday might be the moment, but after last night and showing her my tattoo idea this morning…
handing her that gift now would feel like throwing an anchor to someone already treading water.
She’d see it as me trying to trap her when all I want is to keep her from drifting any further away.
“Jeez, Evans,” Dax pants as we break from a passing drill. “You look like someone just shot your dog.”
“I’m fine,” I mutter, pushing Dax away.
“You sure?” Reese says quietly, appearing at my side. “Yeah, and I’m celibate. You’ve thrown, what, three ducks in ten minutes? Something’s in your head.”
I don’t answer. Can’t. If I open my mouth, it’ll all come spilling out—the way Honey trembled in my arms like she was holding herself together by threads, how small her voice sounded when she said she didn’t know who she was without me, how Jenni has somehow wedged herself between us and I don’t even know how.
My silence is answer enough, because Reese lowers his voice.
“Did something happen with Honey?” Reese asks carefully, his tone the same one Coach uses when he’s trying to pry an injury confession out of someone too stubborn to admit they’re hurt.
I force a shrug, my grip tightening around the bottle until the plastic creaks. “She just… showed up last night.”
Reese tilts his head, waiting for me to go on.
“Drunk,” I add, feeling like shit admitting this. “Barely able to stand. She wouldn’t tell me what happened, just—”
I cut myself off, my jaw locking because I’m not going to tell him about how she begged me to touch her and if I didn’t, she’d fall apart completely.
Reese exhales, long and low. “Shit, man.”
“Do you think it’s… the noise?” he asks, and I know what he means. It’s the pressure, the trolls, the speculation. Everyone knows about it, but it’s hard to physically do anything.
That’s what hurts the most. I have to watch the love of my life get hurt because no one understands her.
“Maybe,” I admit, because I can’t tell him the truth—that it’s more than that. That it’s her dad, it’s the internship she feels forced to take, it’s Chris showing her there is silence if she’s looking for it. And the biggest thing… it’s Jenni.
Before I can say anything else, Sebi and Dax come bounding over like a pair of Labrador puppies who’ve never known a day of subtlety in their lives.
“Yo, Evans!” Sebi smacks my shoulder pads hard enough to rattle my teeth. “Do you remember that brunette I met in Michigan? The one in the bar?”
“No,” I deadpan.
“She was fucking unreal.”
“I should care, because?”
“Because you cockblocked me, bro,” Dax replies, pushing my shoulder. “Thought she was interested in me until she kept asking about the starting quarterback. When I asked for her number, she asked for yours.” Dax shakes his head. “Fucking disappointing.”
“Did you give her my number?” I growl, still pissed about the last time they did that.
“Relax,” Sebi says, waving me off. “We didn’t give her anything. Just said you were taken. She looked really disappointed though.”
“Heartbroken, honestly,” Dax agrees with mock sympathy. “Asked if we were sure you weren’t available for ‘just one night.’ Had to let her down easy.”
“Great,” I mutter.
Another story. Another girl. Another rumor waiting to be weaponized against my broken honeybee.
“You two are morons,” Mason says, smacking them upside the head so hard their helmets clink.
“Ow—what the hell, Mas—”
“You know,” Mason cuts Dax off, “Evans actually has plans for his career that don’t involve screwing his way through every bar from here to Canada.”
“We’re just having fun,” Sebi protests, rubbing his helmet-covered head as though it will do something.
“Back to work, boys! Evans, suicides, until I see some actual effort!”
I nod, taking off across the field. My lungs are burning, my legs are screaming, and Honey’s broken voice still haunts my thoughts.
By the time Coach blows the final whistle, my body’s running on fumes. I peel off my pads in the locker room while the guys swap their weekend plans and dumb jokes.
I towel off and grab my phone, forcing myself to do the one thing I’ve been avoiding all practice.
I text the devil—I mean Jenni.
Zach: I’ll be there
I hit send before I can change my mind. If helping her throw this party makes Honey feel celebrated, then I’ll grit my teeth and deal with her.
A new message lights up my screen before I can put my phone away.
Tiff: How’s Honey? And don’t lie, because you had your “everything’s fine, totally fine” tone earlier.
Tiff: Also, Ella wanted me to tell you she is all packed for our flight. She’s been telling strangers she’s moving into “Uncle Zach’s mansion,” so… no pressure.
I laugh at her message, excited that she’ll be here for Honey’s birthday too. Hopefully having someone like Tiff around will help Honey open up more.
Zach: Can’t wait, Cuz.
Before putting my phone away, I decide to text Honey since she hasn’t messaged me since I dropped her off on campus. Not that I was expecting much. She told me she was humiliated, so I want to give her time, but equally, I want to help her through it.
Zach: Dinner at mine tonight? Might not be around tomorrow, but I want to see you.
“Zach,” Reese calls from the next bench, shoving his feet into his sneakers. “You coming to class?”
“Eh. I think I’m going to skip,” I say, shoving my phone into my pocket.
“What?” He laughs, shaking his head. “I thought you just said you were going to skip?”
“I am. I’ve gotta wallpaper a playroom.”
“Playroom?” Sebi pipes up. “Um, Zach, is there something you need to share with the room? Are you building a sex dungeon? And if so, can I rent it out?”
“Who would you even use it with?” Reese asks with a curled lip.
That shuts Sebi up.
“It’s an actual playroom. My cousin and her daughter are moving in this weekend.”
Dax’s head pops out from behind his locker door, his hair dripping and his grin feral. “Is she hot?”
I don’t even look up. “She has a four-year-old and absolutely zero interest in you.”
“Kids love me,” Dax says, unbothered.
“That’s because you have the same mental capacity,” Mason deadpans, lacing up his cleats.
“Offensive,” I say mildly. “To my four-year-old second cousin.”
The guys laugh, the tension from practice dissolving for them—if not for me. When my phone buzzes, I fish it out of my pocket to see Honey’s responded.
Honeycomb??: I’d love to, but I don’t think I can. I need to go to the hockey rink tonight. Will explain later.
My thumb hovers over the screen long after the message stops vibrating in my hand.
The hockey rink.
There’s no question who she’s going to see while she’s there.
My grip tightens around the phone until the edges bite into my palm. She’s going to see Chris. It’s innocent, they’re probably just finishing that stupid project they were working on together, but after last night, I don’t know what the hell she’s thinking.
It’s nothing. Of course, it’s nothing. She’d have told me something if there was more going on.
Except… she didn’t.
She didn’t tell me when her dad crushed her spirit.
She didn’t tell me who she was out with last night or what happened to make her unravel until she was standing in my doorway shaking like she’d forgotten how to hold herself up.
And I didn’t push because I was too focused on piecing her back together to ask who broke her in the first place.
What if it was Chris?
What if she’s getting what she needs from him?
A sour taste creeps up my throat, and my chest tightens until it feels like someone’s cinching a belt around my ribs, hole by hole, stealing my air.
Last night she told me she didn’t know who she was without me.
Tonight she’s choosing to be with someone who isn’t me.
My mind loops on it, gnawing itself bloody. If she can laugh with Chris when she’s been unraveling with me, what does that make me? The storm she wants to escape from, or the anchor she’s desperate to cut loose?
“You good, Z?” Reese’s voice cuts faintly through the fog.
I force my head up, but my jaw’s so tight it hurts. “Yeah.”
He gives me a skeptical look but doesn’t push, he just tosses his bag over his shoulder and heads for the door. The rest of the guys trickle out with him, joking and shoving each other like the world’s still simple.
When the door swings shut behind them, the silence creeps in.
I shove the phone into my pocket before I can throw it across the room, and drag a hand down my face, trying to scrape the panic off. It clings like oil.
If I lose her, I lose everything.