Page 32 of Every Beat of My Heart

Silence fell as we sipped our beers and watched the football game on the screen. “What’s going on with you and Sutton?”

Wes frowned. “You know we’re friends.”

“Sutton with her trust fund and her expensive designer clothes. She’s too good to have you for a friend.”

Wes’s jaw tightened like it always did when one of us questioned their relationship. “We’re friends. We have been for years.”

I’d always suspected there was more to the story. But their relationship had withstood endless ribbing from my brothers.

Then Wes shifted to face me. “Are you interested in the backup QB’s mom?”

I let out a breath. “Even if I am, it doesn’t matter. I’m a few years younger than her, and you know what everyone thinks about me.”

His brow furrowed. “What’s that?”

I gave him a look. “I’m an overgrown kid. I don’t take anything seriously.”

Wes sighed heavily. “You know we’re just giving you shit, right? It doesn’t mean that you’re not a good guy or wouldn’t be a good fit for this woman.”

It was exactly what it meant. “I don’t even know if she’s interested in me. And if I put her kid on the team, nothing can happen.”

“Maybe it’s for the best then. You said yourself she’s not interested anyway.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” I swallowed down the rest of my beer. As much as it sucked, I didn’t know if there was anything between us, so there was no point in worrying about it. Why would someone like Claire be interested in me anyway?

CHAPTER 8

CLAIRE

I was just as surprised as Owen that Jameson ended up being the coach for tryouts. He’d said he was coaching but I never asked what age or school because there were so many different teams. What were the odds that we’d end up on the same one?

I wasn’t sure what it meant for Owen making the team. Owen seemed to think that he would, based on how well he performed and because he was friends with Jameson.

But I wasn’t so sure. There were no more text messages about working out or stopping by to throw the ball. No more dinners.

I figured he didn’t want to give the impression of favorites. But I thought we were forming a friendship of sorts. Maybe even something more.

But it had all ground to a halt.

So when I got the email with the list of the team and Owen was on it, I figured that was the end of our friendship with Jameson.

When I came home on Friday, Owen ran down the steps. “Did you hear anything?”

I nodded. “You made the team.”

His eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

“You want to see the list?” I asked him, putting my bag on the bench and pulling out my phone to find the email. I’d hoped for a call or even a text message, but Jameson was treating us like any other parent.

When I pulled up the list, Owen grabbed the phone. “Did Jameson call?”

“He just sent the list.”

“It says we have to tell him whether we accept the offer. Have you done that yet?”

“I wanted to talk to you first.”

Owen rolled his eyes. “Call him, Mom. Obviously, I want to be on the team.”

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