Chapter Thirty-Seven
Todd
The start of March Madness is both a blessing and a curse.
It’s truly only madness for the fans—as a player, I’m not on the court much more than during the regular season.
The extra practices kill some of the time, but I’m still stuck at home while Taylor goes to Indiana for the weekend—and do God knows what with Adam.
No, that’s not fair. I know the practicing she’s doing with Adam isn’t the same as what we’re doing . . .
But what if it was? What happens when she’s ready to stop practicing and enter the game?
The thought sits in my chest like a stone, heavy and unyielding.
The games I play aren’t supposed to be mind games.
That’s never how I’ve operated with Taylor.
But after years of living in her blind spot, I’ve retreated into an unspoken contract where I’m not allowed to admit what I want—not really.
We can practice all we want, but when the whistle blows and it’s time to step on the floor for real, I don’t want to be the first to slip up and call it love.
I force myself to focus on our bracket, running drills until my palms are raw, while pretending I don’t care that my phone has basically been silent since Taylor left town.
Sunday night, I dissect video at Jacob’s with the rest of the team, who are on edge because our first-round opponent is the kind of team that makes up for lack of height with a surplus of speed.
The beer goes fast, and so does the gossip, which somehow turns to Emma.
“My brother said she hasn’t been at school for weeks—hasn’t even seen her around town. It’s like she disappeared off the face of the earth,” Matt says during a lull in the highlight reel.
“She still hasn’t returned any of my calls or texts.” Jacob turns to me. “I still don’t believe you know nothing—you fucking live with Taylor.”
I shrug. “All I know is Chase is handling it. Taylor has enough going on.”
“Then give me his number!” He shoves me, nearly upending both our beers. “Where’s your loyalty, man?”
Cody snorts. “With his girl.”
I press my lips together. “She’s not my girl.”
Jacob waggles his brows. “He thinks if he says it enough, it’ll become true.”
“I think it is true.” Matt looks up from his phone. “Adam told me he was asking her out this weekend.”
My eyes widen, my stomach hollowing out.
“How do you know all this?” Jacob asks. “You’re like a fucking tabloid.”
Matt smirks, his eyes bright. “A reporter never reveals his sources.”
They continue going back and forth, but all I can think about is Taylor and Adam at some hipster brewery, his arm around her shoulder. I used to think that Adam was harmless—until the possibility of him being something more stopped feeling harmless at all.
It’s not that I blame him—she’s the kind of girl you fall for even when she’s knocking the bat out of your hands.
She’ll cook your favorite meal, demolish you in fantasy baseball, then recite Pride and Prejudice quotes like an English lit professor.
But the idea of her with someone else, even someone as decent as Adam, makes my jaw clench so hard, my teeth hurt.
I drain the rest of my beer. “Emma’s been staying at my place,” I say, then leave, the night air so cold it feels like a slap.