Page 54

“You absolutely do. ‘All Too Well’ extended version.”

She laughs, and the sound fills the truck cab like sunshine, warming every corner. “Fine, guilty as charged.”

“And I know you’ve forgiven my father, even though he’s partly to blame for tearing us apart, for hurting your family.”

She sucks in a breath, knowing he’s still my least favorite topic of conversation. “Speaking of your father . . .”

“I’d rather not.” The muscle in the corner of my jaw flickers as my thoughts drift to the man who raised me.

Avery might have found it in her heart to forgive him, but I’m not there yet.

I know I’ll get there someday—that people say time heals all wounds.

Blood is blood, after all. But right now, the wound is still too raw.

Every time I look at Avery, I remember those years without her—the emptiness that consumed me, the person I became in her absence.

I think of what might’ve happened had she not returned, and I’m angry and hurt all over again at what he did to me—to us.

Even if he had the best of intentions, a choice between Avery and football was never his to make.

“He’s all the family you have,” Avery says, her tone solemn. “I don’t want what happened with us to come between you. He was wrong, but he’s been trying to show you he’s sorry for months. And we’re together now,” she reminds me. “That’s all that matters.”

“A little more groveling won’t hurt him,” I grumble.

Avery shoots me a withering look, so I sigh. “Fine. I’ll send him a text saying we’re back at school.”

“That’s a start.” She grins, having won—this girl always wins with me. “And what else do you know, QB?”

“I know,” I continue, my voice dropping lower, “that I love every single thing about you. The good, the bad, the complicated, all of it.”

She shifts in her seat, leaning across the console to press a soft kiss to my cheek. “I love you too. Even when you’re being disgustingly perfect.”

We drive in comfortable silence for a while, the radio playing softly between us. The highway stretches ahead, carrying us back to Ann Arbor, back to the place where we found our way back to each other.

I find Avery in the kitchen, her back turned toward me as she fills her glass at the sink. Behind me, Jace and Chris are arguing over takeout options while West lounges on the couch, watching a documentary on his phone about the cosmos.

I smile, watching her for a moment. The setting sun streams through the window above the sink, casting her in a golden glow. She’s changed into my old football jersey and a pair of shorts, her hair pulled up in a messy bun with tendrils escaping around her face.

After we moved her into the dormitories and met her new roommate, we spent some time getting reacquainted with one another in my room. But once wasn’t enough, and I find myself craving her as I quietly cross the kitchen floor and slide my arms around her waist from behind.

She startles slightly, then relaxes against me as I rest my chin on her shoulder, inhaling the scent of her shampoo. I turn my face toward her neck, pressing my lips against her warm skin, and smiling when her pulse jumps.

“Mmmm,” she hums, tilting her head to give me better access. “I thought you were debating dinner options with the guys.”

“Left them to it,” I murmur against her neck. “Had more important things to attend to.”

She sets her glass down and covers my hands with her own, fingers interlacing with mine. “Like what?” she teases, knowing exactly what I mean.

“Like making sure my girlfriend isn’t plotting her escape already.” I turn her to face me, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “One day back and already hiding in the kitchen.”

Her smile is soft, intimate. “Not hiding. Just . . . processing. It’s strange being back here with everything so different.”

“Good different or bad different?”

“Good. Definitely good.” She traces a finger along my jaw. “But overwhelming. Last year, I didn’t know if we’d make it this far, if you’d even want me here. Now, here we are, building a life together I never thought we’d have.”

I lean my forehead against hers. “God, I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too, QB.”

A crash from the living room followed by Jace’s booming voice cuts through our moment.

“I’m telling you, man, Thai food is objectively better than Italian! You’re just too basic to understand the complexity of flavors!”

“Oh, please!” Chris shouts back. “Nothing beats a good carbonara, and you know it! You’re just trying to sound cultured!”

I pull back from Avery with a long-suffering sigh, rolling my eyes toward the ceiling. “Remind me why they’re my friends?”

Avery laughs, the sound light and musical in our small kitchen. She pats my chest consolingly. “Because they’re loyal, they make you laugh, and they’ve never once asked you for an autograph.”

“Yet,” I mutter, but I’m smiling despite myself.

“I heard that!” Chris calls from the living room. “And just so you know, I’m totally getting you to sign my jersey.”

I snort and shake my head as I tug Avery into the living room. West glances up from his phone, smiling when he sees us at the same time Jace and Chris turn to me, asking for a tiebreaker.

“I’m not getting involved,” I say, holding my hands up.

“Fine.” Jace places his hands on his hips, his aqua eyes turning on my girlfriend. “Avery, you get to pick.”

“Um . . . I vote Thai.” She winces, like she’s afraid of the fallout from such a choice as she glances to a gaping Chris.

“Traitor!” he hisses, pointing at her. “And after everything I’ve done for you, too.” He wags a finger at her as he continues. “You know, I’m really disappointed, Avery. I thought we were tight. I thought you had my back. After all, I’m the one who got you and Damon back together.”

“You did not get us back together,” I chime in.

“Excuse me,” Chris says, placing a hand over his chest. “Who was the one to lock you two into a room together until you talked it out. Who was the one who encouraged you to go on that date, huh?” I arch a brow, and he points at his chest. “Me, that’s who.”

“I mean, he does have a point,” Avery says, turning to grin up at me.

“Ha!” Chris points.

“Whatever. If it makes you shut up, you can have partial credit.”

“I’ll take it,” Chris says with a fist pump. “The Love Doctor strikes again. Still means I deserve Italian, but I’ll settle for pizza as a compromise.”

Jace throws his hands up. “Pizza is still Italian, you jackass!”

“Yeah, but it’s American-Italian, which is basically a whole different cuisine,” Chris argues. “Besides, Avery’s first night back deserves something we can all agree on.”

West finally sets his phone down. “I agree on Thai.”

“You’re practically a mute, and you choose now to speak?” Chris glares at him.

West shrugs while Jace laughs.

“Democracy has spoken, dude,” Jace says, already pulling out his phone to place the Thai order. “You can sulk and eat pad Thai like the rest of us.”

With a sigh, Chris throws himself onto our couch at the same time the apartment door flies open with a thunderous bang, hinges protesting as it slams against the wall.

Brandon bursts through the entrance like a hurricane, his face flushed, hair mussed, eyes red-rimmed and wild.

We all freeze?Chris mid-sulk on the couch, Jace with his phone still in hand, West looking up with mild interest.

“What the hell happened to you?” Jace asks, saying what the rest of us are thinking?that Brandon looks like shit.

Brandon’s chest heaves with rapid, shallow breaths as he stumbles forward.

His fingers rake through his sandy hair, clutching at the strands like they might anchor him to reality.

Without a word, he collapses onto the sofa next to Chris, the cushions dipping under his weight.

A guttural groan escapes as he buries his face in his palms.

“Holy shit, man,” Chris says, scooting over to give him space. “Breathe before you pass out.”

I exchange a worried glance with Avery, whose hand tightens around mine. “I thought you went to pick up Tatum?” I say, referring to his female best friend.

Brandon’s shoulders sag as he drops his hands from his face, revealing bloodshot eyes that can’t seem to focus on any of us. He lets out a shaky breath.

“I did. But she—” His voice cracks. He swallows hard and tries again. “She wasn’t alone.”

“What do you mean?” Chris asks, his earlier pizza grievances forgotten as he leans forward, concern etched across his features.

Brandon stares at the floor, his jaw working. “Some guy answered her door. Tall, blond, wearing her university sweatshirt.” His voice drops to a whisper before his features contort, twisting into a mask of pain.

“She’s been dating him for almost three months.” Brandon’s voice is hollow, like he’s reciting someone else’s tragedy. “She leaves me for one fucking summer and comes back with a boyfriend. She never even told me.”

“Fuck,” I mutter, scrubbing a hand over my jaw. Brandon has been in denial of his feelings for Tatum for as long as I’ve known him, but me and the boys know better. We see the way he looks at her. The way he follows her around like a stray cat, desperate for affection.

“‘Fuck’ is right,” Brandon mutters.

“I’m sorry, Brandon,” Avery says softly, moving toward him. She perches on the coffee table across from him, her eyes full of empathy. “That must have been awful.”

Avery is the only chick in the room, so it makes sense she goes to him. To try and get him to step off the ledge.

I offer her a smile of thanks when her eyes meet mine. “Want to talk about it?” she asks when she turns back to Brandon.

Brandon laughs bitterly. “I stood there like a complete idiot while this Ken doll introduced himself as her boyfriend.” He mimics a deep voice, “‘Hi, I’m Ethan. You must be Brandon. Tatum’s told me so much about you.

’” His face crumples and he flops back on the couch with another groan, as he covers his face with his hands.

“Soooo . . .” Jace drawls. “Does this mean you’re finally admitting you have feelings for her?”

Brandon drops his hands with a sigh, then finally blurts, “Fine! I like her, okay?” He bolts upright with a scowl. “Are you happy now you smiley fuckers?”

“I mean, kind of,” Jace says with a shit-eating grin.

“How much did it cost you to admit that?” I ask, needing to get a jab in.

“Apparently, my dignity and self-respect,” Brandon mutters. “And what good did it do me? She’s got Ethan now.” He spits the name like it’s poison.

“So, what did you do?” West asks, suddenly interested in the drama unfolding.

“What do you think I did?” Brandon asks with a grimace. “After releasing him from the vise grip I had on his hand, I puffed my chest out, looked him in the eye, and told him I could take it from here. Then I grabbed her and dragged her toward the car.”

“Smooth.” Jace snorts.

“It wasn’t my finest moment,” Brandon mutters, draping his hands between his legs in defeat.

“So, what’s the plan now?” I ask, curious as to what his plan is.

“Fuck if I know.”

“You know what you need to cheer you up?” Chris chimes in. “A hot meal. Some comfort food.”

“I could eat.”

“Of course you could. What do you want? I’ll order it right now,” Chris says, sliding his phone from his pocket.

“Pizza?”

“Yes!” Chris pumps a fist in the air. “Winner!”

When Jace opens his mouth to protest, Chris points at Brandon. “Look at that long face. Do you really want to deny him?”

Jace rolls his eyes. “You suck.”

“This is the best day ever,” Chris says, almost to himself as he starts a mobile order, happily typing on his phone.

“Our friend is suffering, and it’s the best day ever?” Jace eyes him, likely bitter about the pizza.

“Um, yeah. ” Chris glances up from his phone. “Because not only do I get to eat my favorite Italian delicacy, but I get to do what I do best. Again.”

“Act like a moron?” Jace smirks.

“No, asshole. Play matchmaker.” Chris sets his phone on the coffee table and rubs his hands together, blue eyes bright. “Don’t worry, Brando. I got you. The Love Doctor is here.”

All four of us groan.

I glance at Avery, who’s watching the group with a fond, amused smile, and suddenly it hits me—this is what home feels like. Messy, loud, unexpected . . . and exactly where we’re meant to be.