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“He didn’t tell you?”

His gaze is flat on the lake. “We don’t talk like that.”

“No?”

He shrugs. “Hasn’t been that way for a long time. Lorenzo and me don’t have much in common anymore.”

I’m in a bad mood and his coded self-pity annoys me. “Except the first seventeen years of your life?”

“So what? That’s not his life anymore. He’s college and football and big dreams.” When I open my mouth, Anthony quickly adds, “And I don’t blame him for that.”

“But you blame him for this.” I nod at his cigarette.

“For what?” But he doesn’t look at me. He already knows what.

“For how your life turned out.”

His face is pinched, but he says nothing.

“Right?”

He shoots me a look. “I already had this conversation with him.”

“I know, but maybe he forgot to include the part about what an asshole you are for wanting him to feel guilty.”

“I can’t makehim feel anything. I didn’t force him to feel guilty.”

“But you’re so glad he does, aren’t you?”

Anthony throws his cigarette down and grinds it against the wooden boards with his sneaker. “I don’t care how he feels! It’s obviously not getting in the way of his success, so why should I feel bad?”

“Because what if it is in the way?”

“How?”

I shrug. “I don’t even know if he really wants to play football after college or if that’s because it was your dream.”

“It was both our dreams.”

“What if it’s not his anymore?”

He scoffs. “So somehow I’m responsible for my problemsandhis, and he’s not responsible for shit.”

“You’re both responsible for your own fucking lives. I’m just asking you to let him go.”

“I did. I’m not trying to pretend we’re still buddy-buddy like we used to be. Lorenzo’s the one who tries to act like we’re in high school again and nothing’s changed.”

“I mean let him be free, Anthony. He loves you. Your opinion of him means way more than it should. And, yes, that’s his problem and he needs to figure it out, but you don’t have to make it worse by taking advantage of the fact that he wants to blame himself.”

I don’t know Anthony well enough anymore to know what to make of his silence.

“Look, maybe it won’t even help. It might not change a thing in his life, but maybe it would. Maybe he could think clearly about where he’s going.”

“You wish he wasn’t headed for the NFL. Right?”

I swallow. “I used to. I didn’t want him to leave me. Now I don’t know. I think right now it’s better if I don’t wish for anything.”

“It’s not like you wouldn’t still be best friends if he played pro. Lorenzo wouldn’t leave you behind.”