Page 135 of Fair Catch

“I’d just be confirming what they already know,” I shoot back immediately.

A sharp laugh leaves him as he throws his back. “Cocky. I like it. Keep that energy up, and you’ll be a first-round pick. Guaranteed.”

I nod, trying to harness the side of me that knows this is exactly where I’m supposed to be. And I’ll admit, having him—and the other guys too—here for support means more than I thought it would. Apparently, I was in more need of a pep-talk than I realized.

“Speaking of first-round picks, I’m still surprised you decided not to declare.” I arch a brow his way. “You know, considering you likely would’ve been the bone all the dogs were fightin’ over.”

He waves me off. “Maybe, but I think I have a way better offer waiting for me.”

Phoenix told me about their plan to move back to Nashville after graduation—Holden working as an intern for his Dad’s label, and him working at some fancy marketing firm—and nothing makes more sense in my head. More than either of them making a go for the pros.

If I’ve learned anything through my time living across the hall from the two of them, it’s that they’re everything each other needs, and even if it hurt me in the beginning, I’m so fucking glad Phoenix didn’t allow me to stand in the way. Seeing the happiness they have together is completely worth it.

Happiness I get to be part of again.

“You know, you’re right,” I confirm, nodding. “You’ll have a lot more fun wining and dining musical talent than having to maintain top-tier athletic form.I’m not lying, part of me is a tiny bit jealous you can get fat and happy now.”

“One, gyms still exist outside of athletic training, and two, you’ve been wanting to go pro for as long as I’ve known you, so I’m not buying your ‘jealousy’ for a damn minute.”

I laugh, despite his accurate assessment of the situation. Though, my desire to go pro has only ever been because I didn’t think I had another option. I’ve never been the smartest kid like Hayes, and I’ve never had such defined hobbies or drive for a career the way Holden and Phoenix do.

Football is the only thing that made sense for me, and after seeing Ciaráin Grady get drafted to New England a few years back, I have less worry about being ousted by the League because I’m openly gay.

Now, it’s as simple as proving I’m good enough to be out there with the best of the best, playing the sport I fell in love with the first time I ever watched it.

“For all the shit I’m giving you, I know Nashville will be a good fit for you, Hold. It’s the right choice. There’s no doubt in my mind.”

“Same goes to you about being here.” Holden’s whiskey eyes lift to mine, and he smiles. “And thanks, Kase.”

We share that brief moment, gratitude and optimism building inside me before I glance back toward where I was originally standing.

“I probably should get back to stretching and warming up, but I really do appreciate y’all showing up. It means a lot.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, man. Seriously. You’ll always be our teammate, even when you’re off making millions in the big leagues.” His head slants to the side and he grins. “Just remember who made you look good all through college when you’re handing out those comp tickets for your home games.”

“Even if I’m drafted to a team on the other side of the country?”

“Especially then. I’ll need some sort of getaway from the Mercer clan every once in a while, once Nix and I are sharing a zip code with them.”

Laughing, I shake my head, because if there’s anyone who loves the Mercers as much as me, it’s Holden. But I can play along with his game.

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

“Holding you to that,” he says, pointing at me with a smirk.

He starts backing away to follow after the rest of the guys, but he stops short.

“Oh, shit, before I forget,” Holden says, producing two blue Gatorades from God knows where. “These are for you. Should help you kick some ass.”

Grinning, I grab them from him, tucking one under my arm and cracking open the other. “Phoe must’ve thought I needed extra luck today if he had you bring two, huh?”

Holden’s lips lift in a little smirk, like he knows something I don’t. Then again, who knows with him. He’s always got some wacky scheme or smirk up his sleeve, which he more than proved with his little stunt using Phoenix’s baseball glove.

I pause with the drink halfway to my mouth, meeting his expectant stare, and…

“Did you just pull these out of your pants?”

He bursts into laughter, shaking his head before he grabs the strap of his drawstring backpack. “Had them in here, you fucking weirdo. I know better than to fuck with the mojo like that.”

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