Chapter 28
SAWYER
Icome back from my run with my lungs burning and my head no clearer than when I left.
Old Town is loud in that easy Sunday way—dogs on leashes, strollers bumping over brick sidewalks, the faint hum of someone playing guitar down by the water. It’s the kind of afternoon that makes you believe everything’s fine. Even when it isn’t.
I punch the numbers on the building’s security keypad and walk inside. In a few moments, I’m letting myself into my condo, sweat cooling against my skin, not even surprised to find Ty stretched out on the couch. Of course he is.
“Is that Sawyer?” Campbell’s voice drifts from the kitchen. I can only assume he’s rummaging through the fridge.
“Yep, and he’s alive,” Ty says, glancing up. “We were about to send a search party.”
I toss my keys onto the table. “I was gone thirty minutes.”
“Felt longer,” Campbell says as he emerges with a bottle of water in his hand that he tosses my way. “Ooff. You look like you wrestled a raccoon and lost.”
I grab the bottle from the air, chugging half of it before answering. “Maybe I did. What are you two doing?”
“Farmers’ market,” Ty says. “Then a rooftop bar for a late lunch with some of the team.”
“It should be illegal to waste a Sunday like this,” Campbell adds as his gaze lands on me. “Shower. You’re coming.”
“Nah.” I shake my head automatically. “I can’t.”
“What do you mean you can’t?” Campbell asks.
I throw my hands up. “I’ve got stuff.”
Ty narrows his eyes. “What stuff?”
“Stuff stuff.”
Campbell snorts. “Stuff is usually short for sulking.”
“He can sulk if he wants.” Ty pushes off the couch.
“We’re going and if you want to join us, please do, but we’re grabbing coffee first. I need to go by my place and get my jacket anyway.
It’s colder by the water.” He points at me as he heads for the door.
“Five minutes. If you change your mind, meet us downstairs.”
He disappears into the hallway, the only sound being the click of the front door when he leaves.
Campbell doesn’t move right away. He leans back against the counter and studies me.
I hate that look.
“Dude.”
“I’m fine.” I’m lying.
“You have dark circles under your eyes,” he says flatly. “And I know for a fact you weren’t out celebrating with us last night.”
I look away, cap twisting between my fingers.
“What’s going on?” he asks, softer now.
Normally, this is where I unload. I’m good at that. I take the mess in my head and dump it at my cousin’s feet like it’s a strategy session. Break it down. Analyze it. Figure out the play.
I could do that now.
I could tell him about last night, after the game. About the look on her face. About the way she said you might like she was bracing for impact.
I could ask him what I should do.
But the truth hits me before I open my mouth.
I don’t want his opinion.
I don’t want anyone else’s voice in this.
There’s only one person I want to talk to right now.
I drag a hand down my face and force something close to a normal expression. “I’m fine.”
I can tell by his expression that Campbell doesn’t buy it.
“I’ve got some stuff running laps in my head,” I add, shrugging like it’s nothing. “You know how it is.”
He studies me for another second, weighing whether to push. I’m thankful that he doesn’t.
“Alright,” he says finally. “Text if you change your mind.”
“Yeah.” I nod. “You guys go. Have a good time. I might meet up with you later. Maybe dinner.”
That seems to satisfy him. “Okay,” he says, grabbing his keys. “Don’t spiral.”
I huff a laugh. “No promises.”
Campbell snorts and heads out, the door clicking shut behind him. I stand there for a second, staring at the door like it might open again. Like someone might come back and make this easier.
No one does.
I head down the hallway and into my room, closing the door behind me. The early afternoon light spills across the floor, soft and warm, catching on the edge of my dresser. It should feel calm. Cheerful. Promising like all of the cherry blossoms on the trees outside.
It doesn’t.
I sit on the edge of the bed and drop my elbows to my knees.
He was my blueprint. Teaching me to show up and be the man he was raising me to be. To stay, even when it’s uncomfortable. To love the game without letting it swallow the rest of your life.
Only now I’m realizing something more. The bittersweet of it all is that I never got to finish the lessons.
I reach for my phone before I can talk myself out of it. Open the thread that still sits pinned at the top of my screen, my thumb hovering over the keyboard.
I look out the window, over the rooftops of Old Town, gaze across the Potomac. Spring sunlight glints off the water. The world keeps moving like nothing’s changed.
I look back down at the phone and start to type.
How do I know when something’s right and when I should push for more?
The words stare back at me. They are simple. Honest. Exactly what I would’ve asked him if I could.
My thumb lingers over the send arrow, then I stop.
Because the truth presses in, steady as his voice used to be.
You don’t chase what’s easy, you fight for what matters. If it scares you, that’s usually a sign it’s real.
My heart, the banging it’s doing? It’s fear. Fear of losing what’s in my grasp, because it’s something I didn’t realize until recently how much I wanted it.
If Theo was here he’d tell me it was applause. And maybe my dad would’ve said the same thing, just differently. Stay. Fight. Show up.
So I don’t send the text. I don’t have to.
I already know the answer.