Page 25 of Their Greatest Strength

“You’ve never asked about players before. I remember you telling me once that my football talk was making your brain melt out of your ears.”

“Okay, that was one time. And I only said that because I was on a phone call when you were giving me a rundown.”

He sits back on the couch and hikes his socks up before readying the cleat. His foot slides in easily before he starts lacing it up.

“Whatever, sis. That’s not the point. I just wanna know why you’re asking about them now.”

“One of the Pythons players was at the store when I got those shoes. My interest was piqued, that’s all,” I say, choosing my words carefully.

Nate freezes. “What? Who?”

Shrugging a shoulder, I try playing it off. “That Bateman guy.”

“What?” he shouts, shoe forgotten and falling to the floor with a clunk. “You’re not being serious.”

“It was only a brief encounter.”

“Youmethim? Why didn’t you mention this to me before? What the hell, Lake! Did you talk? Did you tell him about me?” he rambles, looking like he might burst if I don’t watch what I say.

“Slow down. It wasn’t like I went there planning on meeting him. It just happened.”

He shakes his head, huffing a breath while picking the cleat up off the floor. “You don’t meet your brother’s favourite football player and not get him a signature or something! Or at leastask for a picture! Oh, my God, I’ve failed my teachings with you.”

It’s hard to keep a straight face as I pat his shoulder. “I’m so sorry to have not pounced on a stranger for you.”

He blows out a heavy exhale, looking away from me. “Thank you, but I can’t forgive you yet.”

“I don’t know how I’ll go on.”

“Don’t be sarcastic right now! This is so not the time,” he sasses, darting his eyes back to mine.

“How about you just thank me for the shoes, and we move on? Maybe you’ll find it in your heart to forgive my lack of sports star etiquette after practice.”

His expression softens with appreciation. “Thank you. Really, these are incredible. The best gift I’ve ever gotten.”

“Even if I did fumble the ball with the player?”

“Hey, that was the right way to use that. Maybe you are learning. I’ll be able to make a football fan out of you one day.”

I roll my eyes and pass him the second cleat, watching as he holds them close to his chest. “Get to it, superstar. If we miss the bus, you’re piggybacking me all the way to the field.”

He doesn’t need any further motivation, and two minutes later, I’m handing him his bag, and we’re rushing out the door.

“I’m really close to being able to afford a car, you know?” he asks when I shut the door behind us. “What do you think of a truck? Not a fancy one, but like an old, reliable one?”

With my key in my hand, I spin to lock the door.

At the sight of the piece of paper taped onto it . . . My legs threaten to give out.

Eviction Notice.

Nate comes up behind me, easily peering over my shoulder before I have a chance to rip the paper off the door.

“What’s the hell is that? Are we?—”

Snatching the notice, I crumble it into a ball, but not before he reads the writing on it. “It’s nothing.”

“Yes, it is. Don’t lie to me. I’m not a kid anymore.”

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