Page 13 of Lose You to Find Me

Like Coach Crowe, my old high school football coach, who would sidle up beside me after games whenever I looked into the crowd searching for her and my parents. He’d say the same thing every time, as if he was hoping one day my answer would change. “Something tells me you’re not looking for the scouts here to watch you play, are you?”

And the instant I laid eyes on the girl who sat by Mom and Dad every single game since the first one she attended our sophomore year of high school, I’d wave with the dorkiest grin on my face and say, “No, Coach.”

He’d smack my back and tell me I was making a mistake by not seriously considering other colleges, but I would never let him convince me otherwise. Because the future other people saw for me was full of sevenfigure contracts and Super Bowl rings.

Whenever I saw Raine wave back at me or point at the borrowed jersey with my number on it, I knew without a doubt in my mind I was looking at the lifetime of happiness I’d get without all the materialistic things attached.

During one of the last games I had with Coach Crowe, I told him my life was in Lindon and smiled when he asked, “You’d give up a free ride to college and a successful football career all for one girl?”

The amount of confidence I had when I replied that night was the same amount I had the day of graduation with the ring box sitting heavy in the pocket of my gown.

I’d been so sure when I told Coach Crowe, “Nah, not for one girl. All forthegirl.”

Because that girl was going to say yes.

I wonder what I would have done if I knew how wrong I was back then. Would I have attended a different school? Traveled and played football somewhere else for a while before coming home to work at the store? I don’t know.

I never will.

“Dude, watch it!” DJ—Daniel Bridges Junior—calls out, cringing when the football we’ve been tossing back and forth nearly collides with my face. The golden-haired boy with major golden retriever energy used to be my teammate on Lindon U’s football team in undergrad. Unlike me, the wide receiver currently jogging over to me wanted to go pro. If it hadn’t been for a shoulder injury, he might have tried. “You good? One second you were here, the next you were spaced. What’s up?”

I pick up the ball and tuck it under my arm, shaking my head. “Just tired.”

“Bull,” he counters, stealing the ball and spinning it on his finger. “I saw you chug two huge cups of coffee from Bea’s, and we both know she makes it strong. There’s no way you’re still tired after that.”

All right, so I did caffeinate pretty hard this morning when I met DJ and Matthew Clearwater, another former teammate, at Bea’s Bakery. I couldn’t stay long, but I downed way more coffee than my heart can probably handle in less than an hour and then went to the hospital to see Dad before I took my shift at the hardware store.

“Dad had an episode this morning,” I murmur, blowing out a long breath and gripping the back of my neck. “He started talking about how he didn’t want to miss any of my games. I guess he forgot I graduated already. It got me thinking about how things should have been. At the beginning of the year, I had a healthy dad and an amazing girlfriend who I bought a ring for. Everything was good. Now…”

DJ is one of my best friends, but I feel weird talking about Raine when I know he and his girlfriend, Skylar, still talk to her. It isn’t like I have anything bad to say. I would never make them pick sides, knowing she doesn’t have a lot of friends outside the circle we’d formed together.

He sighs, gripping the ball in his hands and nodding once with a sad expression molded across his face. “I get it, man. Shit hasn’t been easy for you lately, but dwelling on that stuff isn’t going to help you now.”

Just because that’s the truth doesn’t mean it’s any easier to accomplish. When I told Dad I wasn’t on the football team anymore, he started threatening to call the coach thinking I’d been kicked off. “You’re the best that goddamn team has. Give me his number.”

It took twenty minutes for him to remember that I graduated. That Ichoseto leave that life behind.

Mom tried to hide the glassiness in her eyes as she watched the scene unfold, but I saw it long before she left to get coffee from the cafeteria, as if she actually likes the overpriced sludge they serve.

Swiping a palm over my jaw, I shake my head and glance at the apartment building that gives me some semblance of peace when I’m not buried at the store, hospital, or school.

The red house was converted into four different apartments that Stanley Yager—the owner, contractor, and landlord—used Anders Hardware’s supplies for. I helped him order everything he needed and would occasionally even go over to help on smaller projects in between all my other responsibilities. When the building was finished, Stan offered me a good price on one of the units. He even lowered the monthly rent as long as I shovel in the winter and mow the lawn in the summer.

The apartment isn’t much, but it’s the one space not riddled with a ton of memories that suffocate me. I’ve been able to make new ones here since I moved from the football house after graduation.

“Have you heard from her?” DJ asks, bringing my attention back to him. When I don’t answer right away, he asks, “Have you heard from Raine?”

Lips twitching, I shake my head. “Not since I wished her a happy birthday.”

I may have looked her up online a few times, but she rarely posts. Neither of us are big on social media, but we get tagged a lot by people who are. Which is how I know she’s been staying with her aunt Tiffany at their cabin in Radcliff and going to bonfires a few times a week with the group we used to hang out with all the time. Does she see the way Chris looks at her in those photos? Did she do anything about it now that we’re not together?

I’d torture myself with every photo, reading through the comments about how good she looks—howhappyshe looks—but I seem to be the only person who sees that her smile doesn’t actually meet her eyes. I don’t know if I should be happy about that or not. It isn’t that I want her to be miserable, much less be the reason for it, but it means that we feel the same.

Neither of us are okay, or we wouldn’t be here. Misery loves company after all.

Clearing my throat, I brush it off. Brushheroff the way I need to. “Like you said, I can’t dwell on that shit. I’ve got a date with Emma tonight anyway. We’re checking out that new brewery that opened. They’re doing half-priced drinks.”

There’s a slight change in DJ’s face that has my head cocking. He doesn’t say anything before he tries looking neutral again, but he’s never been the best at hiding what’s on his mind.

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