Page 25 of Fair Catch

He chuckles some more and shakes his head. “Probably will from his grave too.”

It’s moments like this where I’m remindedwhyeverything went down last year. Holden is a lot of fun to be around, always making jokes to lighten the mood. It’s one of the things that attracted me to him in the first place—drawing from his personality, not his looks.

I’m just glad things aren’t weird after the drama between me, him, and Phoe, especially when it comes to football and the team. I’ve actively forced myself to leave all that shit on the sidelines the moment I step onto the field, and from what I can tell, he’s been doing the same.

“You killed it tonight, you know.” His words break through my thoughts, and when I glance his way, those whiskey brown depths are both honest and familiar.

“Thanks, Hold.”

His expression remains earnest. “No, seriously. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen you dialed in like that.”

A hint of a smile curls the corner of my mouth before admitting what I’d just been thinking. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried about how things would be this season after last spring.”

He waves me off. “Nah, nothing to worry about. No hard feelings, no bad vibes. We’re the same friends we were before.”

Hearing that is all I need to let the history between us wash away, giving us a blank slate as friends. One we quickly make use of, spending the rest of the bus ride back to campus chatting about his summer, including tales of his stay at Phoenix’s family condo and his trip back to Cali to visit his grandma. And it’s good. Normal, even, and by the time we pull up outside the training facility, I feel like we’ve completely put the bridge of awkwardness we’d been teetering on in the rear view.

But that’s before I climb off the bus, only to find Phoenix leaning against Holden’s Jeep in the parking lot.

It’s a knife to the gut, slicing clean through me, but not in the way I expected. Because as I stand at the bottom of the stairs, my eyes fixated on one of the few people in this world I trust more than anything, all I feel is longing.

For Phoenix. For our friendship.

For the guy who has always been my number one.

Someone stops beside me, and this time when I glance over, I’m not surprised to find it’s Holden. There’s a big, dopey smile on his face as he looks over to where Phoenix is waiting for him, watching the two of us.

“He’d kill me for telling you this, but he misses you,” Holden murmurs suddenly, his attention shifting to me now.

Tension coils inside me as I try to keep my emotions reined in. Because the fact of the matter is, I miss Phoenix the way I’d be missing an amputated limb, and that’s ninety percent of the problem.

He’s been my crutch for longer than I care to admit, and I’m ready to stand on my own. Even if doing so is painful as hell.

“I miss him too,” I whisper, unable to stop my voice from cracking on the last word.

Holden gives me a tight smile, clearly wanting to say more. He must think better of it, though, because he simply shoulders his bag, tells me to have a good night, and heads over to where Phoenix is waiting.

I watch as they greet each other, unable to look away. The smile on my best friend’s face—the happiness radiating from it, even at this distance—is the same I’d seen in those photos this summer. And it’s everything I could ever wish for him to have.

I just wish like fucking hell that I could share it with him.

Holden rounds the Jeep, jumping into the passenger seat as Phoenix moves to get behind the wheel. But just before Phoenix climbs in, his gaze collides with mine, and he gives me a half-smile and a simple wave.

That’s what all these years of friendship have been reduced to.

A smile and wave.

My hand lifts of its own volition, and I’m left frozen in place, staring as the doors close and they drive off into the night…and feeling more alone than I have in a long time.

I’m on autopilot by the time I get back to the apartment, moving without a single coherent thought. There could’ve been an elephant playingHot Cross Bunson the trombone in the living room and I wouldn’t have noticed, which makes perfect sense why I blow past Hayes quietly lounging on the couch.

“Kason?”

I halt halfway across the living room, still in a bit of a daze when I meet his eyes. “Hey, sorry. I didn’t see you when I came in.”

The analytical look in Hayes’ stare intensifies as he continues looking at me, and like so many times before, I feel completely transparent. A piece of glass that’s capable of shattering at the wrong touch.

“You good?” he asks slowly, brows crashing together at the center. “Did the game go okay?”

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