them again. He wanted to stay up all night on a Madden tournament, heckling Colton and trying to make him lose, even though Colton never lost. Grill in the backyard with the guys and throw the ball around in the street. Bitch in the locker room about Cesar’s snoring or Colton’s stank feet. And then walk out on that field together, like they were meant to. He wanted to feel them come together in that perfect way, feel them become extensions of each other, like Colton and he were making the play happen in the heartbeat they shared. Or he and Orlando were setting up the rush, and he was blocking as Orlando was on the move, and they flowed together like they could read each other’s mind, but no, they were just that in sync, that well tuned to each other.
He missed that so much. He missed his friends, his teammates. His brothers. Tears spilled over his eyelashes as his chest shuddered. Justin’s hand gripped his, and he wrapped his other hand around Justin’s and held on tight. He’d get through this, and afterward, Justin would be there. He’d known, from the very beginning, how it would end. He fell in love, and like all epic love stories, there was a price to pay. He was made to love the white swan, after all.
“Damn, bro,” Orlando finally said. “Damn.”
“Coach shouldn’t have put that on you,” Patrick grunted. “That’s fucked up.”
“We had a good season, though.” Wes tried to smile through the pain. “Until I screwed it all up. But you guys definitely got seen by the scouts. ESPN has highlight reels of you that make some of the NFL players jealous. You guys got great time in front of the league. You’ll all find your next home in the NFL. I know you will.”
“Man, the season isn’t done yet.” Art frowned, looking at Wes like he’d said that the Aggies were the best sports program in Texas. He shook his head at Wes. “What, are you quitting now? We’ve got another game to play.”
Wes looked at Colton and then back to Art. “I don’t want to hurt you guys any more. I don’t want to hurt the team.”
“You don’t,” Josh blurted out. “You belong on the field with us. We’re a team, like you said.”
Cheers and Hell yeahs echoed around the crowded room.
“We started this season together. We end this season together,” Quinton said. “I don’t even want the NFL looking at me if they’re not looking at you, too. It’s all of us, man. It’s not just one of us, or a few of us. It’s all of us.”
More clapping. More Hell yeahs. A few Fuck yeses.
Colton rose. He gripped the football between his hands and crossed the circle, then stopped in front of Wes.
Wes stood.
“Come back. We all want you with us. We all miss you.” His jaw clenched hard, the muscles around his neck bulging. “I miss you. It’s not the same.”
Murmurs of agreement, and his teammates nodding in the background, falling in and out of blurry focus behind Colton. His teammates smiling at him. Waiting for him.
What world was this, where everything shattered and then they put it back together? Was this only a figment of his imagination? Was he still in a coma, dreaming of everything he wanted but couldn’t have? He tried to inhale, but his muscles were clenching and his ribs were aching and all he managed was a ragged, broken gasp. He stared at Colton.
“I’m sorry,” Colton said. “I’m sorry for everything that happened. What Coach put on you, and what the world put on you. The fans, and their fucked-up shit. I want to kill those guys who jumped you, man.” His teeth clenched, and his hand squeezed down on the football until it deformed. “And I’m sorry I reacted like I did. You were trying to talk to me in the locker room, and I didn’t listen to you. I had no idea all that other stuff was driving you.” He held out the football. “Can we make this right again?”
Wes grabbed the football with one hand and Colton with the other. He dragged his best friend into a bear hug, clinging to him like he was a life ring and Wes was lost at sea, like he’d been treading water for days and days and days. It felt like he had been. The agony of not knowing where he was going, wondering what would happen. He’d been so