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Becca mumbles under breath, “Pretend, right.”

An awkward silence stretches between us, and she takes off her coverup, revealing a body just as taut as it was in college. We lie in the sun until my fingers crawl to hers without permission. It’s as if our hands are filled with a magnetic force.

The pads of my fingers curl into hers, and her breath hitches, or maybe it was mine. I’ve wanted her for so long, it’s hard to comprehend that I may have a chance. Neither of us speaks, and I don’t know what she’s feeling, but my heart feels as if it’s rattling against my rib cage.

She nudges me with her elbow. “John. John. We fell asleep.”

I realize it all could have been a dream as I lift my sunglasses and see Becca’s skin pinkened by the sun. I sit up, placing my hands on my knees, glancing over my shoulder. All eyes are focused on us.

I lean into Becca. “Do you want to give them a show?”

Her chin lifts. “What kind of show?”

I stand, bringing her with me, then gather the hem of my t-shirt, pulling it over my head. Becca’s eyes drop to my abs, and I can’t help but chuckle. My feet shuffle in front of her, and I put the t-shirt over her head and adjust it on her shoulders. A collective gasp pushes through the air. “This kind.” I lean down and kiss her cheek.

Her chest heaves even though she’s trying to control it. “Are we still pretending?”

“That’s up to you, Sunshine.”

She bites her bottom lip, with a grin tugging at her lips.

As I’m staring at Becca, Oakley asks, “What are we doing next?”

Corbin scoots her back to his chest. “We’re taking a nap before dinner. Dawes, Jeremy, Austin, Federberg, and Coleman will be here tonight.”

“And Madison. Don’t forget about Madison,” Becca offers, but as soon as we get back to shore, and we get cell service, Becca’s phone dings.

She stares at her phone, then drops it by her side. “She’s not coming.”

“What? Why?” Brooke asks.

“Too many flights delayed. Her flight isn’t scheduled for two more days. So, she’s going to vacay in Chicago with Jamie, her stunt partner from college, and his family.”

“That sucks.”

Becca’s lips press together in a thin line. “Yeah, it does. But nothing is stopping me from drinking tropical drinks, testing my limits, and making new memories.”

“That’s the spirit,” Presley says. “When I came to Kentucky to try out for soccer, I was living in my car. I did what I had to do to get by. And you’ll come out better for pushing all the negative feelings from your mind. I’m a firm believer in mind over matter.”

I interrupt their conversation. “Brooke, aren’t you the one who hooked Flynn and Presley up?”

Flynn sneaks up on his wife and gives Presley a raspberry onher neck. “Brooke gave us both a place to live when the hockey plex was being demolished and rebuilt.” Flynn’s words linger, clearly lost in the past. “Good times.”

“Yes, they were.” Presley adds.

Federberg and Coleman, teammates a couple of years younger than me, lived like kings in the new hockey housing. Brooke’s dad was our coach, and he wanted to build a lasting program and convinced the boosters that in order for that to happen, we needed state of the art locker rooms and housing to entice the future stars of Stallions hockey.

Becca throws her arms up, surrendering, then drops them to her sides. Her palms lightly smack against her thighs. “Why do I have the worst luck?”

The girls surround her, leaving no doubt that she’s not alone and head to do some shopping. The guys and I stop at The Sandbar. Logan’s football team is playing a pre-season game, but after so many years with the Louisville Heavyweights, they give him extra time off and play the second and third-string quarterbacks. In two weeks, he’ll join them on the field.

We grab the bamboo stools at the outside tiki bar. “Come on, O’Ryan. Come on,” another tourist urges.

I take a hefty drink of a local beer, wincing as it goes down. It’s stout and thick like an ale, which is not my thing, but I try to help the locals in any way I can. I glance sideways at Logan. “I can’t believe Denver traded O’Ryan.”

“I know. No one’s safe. He won the Super Bowl two years ago.”

“Do you know him? Were you in the same draft class?” I ask.