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“ Y ou’re looking strong out there, Outlaw. Dare I say, even stronger than you did before your injury,” Coach Price says from behind his desk. Pushing the images from my mind that Graves has on repeat after his taunts during practice, I embrace the coach’s words.

“Thanks, Coach, I’m happy to be here and excited to see where this season takes us,” I answer honestly. Getting injured in the last game of a record-breaking season is a tough pill to swallow and not one I took easily. Especially after feeling like I had already lost my world when I went to Texas.

“We’re happy to have you, bud.” He beams. His tough exterior from practice just a few minutes ago is nowhere in sight. I try to hold back my smile, but damn, it feels good to hear that. To go from a coach who so easily replaced me to one who took a huge chance on me makes me extremely proud to deliver.

Thankfully, for my former team, our second-string quarterback was able to take us to the championships. I hate to say, as excited as I was that day, jealousy I wasn’t used to feeling when it comes to anything other than a certain blonde crept deep into my bones, planting seeds of my likely unfortunate future at Texas Tech. And just as I and many others suspected, my former coach told me I would take the position of QB2 for my junior season. To say I was pissed is an understatement, but you know what they say… When one door closes, another door opens, and by the end of my spring semester, I already had several new offers. Mountain Ridge and two other Division 1 schools were the top three I narrowed it down to, and I would be lying if I said the thought of being at the same school as Berkley again didn’t make that decision for me.

He taps his pen on his playbook. “The shotgun offense seems to be working really well. You and Wynn are in a great groove, and I think for the game next week, it’s the way to go.”

I nod. “I agree. Tennessee's man-to-man defense won’t be able to keep up with Wynn.”

Coach leans back, pushing his chair away from the table. “Hell, our best defensive backs can’t keep up with him. As long as he stays healthy, Wynn has a big future.” Standing, he walks around to me and pats my good shoulder. “As do you, Nate. I know it’s been a rough year, but I’m serious. I see a different fire in your eyes.”

I try to focus on his compliment as I say my goodbyes, but the mention of our DBs takes me back to one in particular. The one who has avoided me like the plague since my arrival, even though I’ve known him since I was twelve years old. The same one I’ve seen post pictures with Berkley more and more over the past two years, but mainly with others in them and never with a label. I’ve suspected and stayed up late at night, spinning stories in my head about if they’re dating, but he chose today to break the silence, and it took everything in me not to break my fist across his face.

She’s mine now… Stay away from her, Outlaw. She’s in my bed every night, saying my name. And she’ll be in the stands wearing my number next Saturday.

When I let the anger settle and allowed his words to play on repeat, I was somewhere between crying and puking. It’s my own fucking fault…. Or maybe it’s their fucking fault, but either way, I chose to walk away.

The locker room is mostly cleared out when I finish up with Coach, but I notice Graham, my best friend and one of the top tight ends in college football, sitting on the bench near my locker.

I nod at him, urging myself to let the animosity go before I speak. “You didn’t have to wait on me. I’m going in with the trainers to ice my shoulder anyway.”

He stands up and slings his bag onto his shoulder as I’m opening my locker. “I just wanted to check on you. You seemed off at the end of practice.”

I wait for a moment to answer. I know it’s not Graham’s fault, but I feel unreasonably pissed at him. My emotions get the best of me as I slam my locker shut and meet his gaze. “Is she with him?”

“Wha… Where did that come from?”

“Just fucking tell me… Is she with Graves?”I force out the last part, not even wanting to speak it into existence.

“Look, Nate…”

“No, don’t sugarcoat it. Tell me.” I level him with a demanding look I’ve never given him before.

He holds up his hands, shaking his head. “Whoa, whoa, boss…don’t come at me like that. You are the one who broke up with her, remember?”

I fucking knew it. The side of my fist hits the cold metal of the locker, and my head falls against it with a shaky huff.

“Fuck, man,” Graham hisses out. “I’m sorry, Nate, but she’s my friend too and, honestly, I didn’t know if you’d care.”

The tiredness of practice and the anguish I feel over being so close but so far from her finally take over my body. I sit down on the bench, eventually lifting my head to see how concerned he is. “Of course, I still care. Why do you think I always ask you about her? No matter how hard I’ve tried to move on…I still care. I always will.”

At that, his concern seems to melt away, and he shakes his head in frustration. “I just don’t get this shit, dude. If you are still so fucked up over her, why did you end it? Especially how you did.”

I pull the strands of my sweaty hair, whispering, “You don’t get it. It’s not that simple.”

The door to the locker room opens and our roommate, Nola’s, eyebrows pinch together as he takes in our tense body language. “Y’all good?”

“Yeah,” I say as I pick up my stuff.

“The trainers were looking for you, so I told them I’d come find you before they wrap me up.” He pauses for a beat and smirks. “But I got dibs on blondie’s table.”

I roll my eyes at him and chuckle, not wanting my other teammates to know the shit going on in my head. “I’m coming.”

“I’ll see you both back at the house. I think the twins got back while we were at practice,” Graham says, but grabs my arm before I walk away. “We good?”

“Yeah, it's not your fault. See you at the house.” I lift my fist, and he taps it with his, watching me suspiciously as we both head our separate ways out of the locker room.

Graham Leblanc has been my friend since I made the varsity football team in the seventh grade. He was captain of the middle school team that year and took me under his wing. That bond grew when I joined him in high school two years later, and again, he immediately pulled me into his fold. That’s Graham; if you are his people, he always looks out for you. Which is why I was thankful Berkley had him here at Mountain Ridge these past two years.

I follow behind Nola into the trainer room. “How’s your ankle feeling?” I ask him.

He smiles, nodding. “Solid. Like those passes you keep throwing me.”

I smirk. “I was just talking to Coach about how well that’s working.” Nola and I have only been practicing together for a couple months, but our chemistry on the field is unreal.

“Ice that shoulder up so we can get home. I’m cooking breakfast for dinner tonight,” he says as he winks at the athletic trainer and hops onto her table.

Brody Wynn, otherwise known as Nola, was born and raised in New Orleans and is the epitome of “rizz” in the urban dictionary. Even as a sophomore, he has already made a name with the ladies on campus. He’s also the best wide receiver I’ve ever played with, and he’s a hell of a cook in the kitchen.

After a long shower, during which I contemplated all my life choices on repeat, I decide to torture myself further by opening my closet door to stare at the picture collage on the back of it.

I trace my finger over her pouty lips and clear blue eyes. She’s heart-breakingly beautiful.

The week before everything changed, Berkley had surprised me with a picture collage for my room in Texas. She even included a few with us and my younger sister, Willow. The same sister who wouldn’t speak to me for two months after she found out I broke up with Berkley. She was only fifteen at the time and, unfortunately, I think myself, along with our parents, ruined her idea of true love all within one short year.

“Yo, dinner’s ready. If you want any, you better come on...” Graham’s voice trails away as I hear his feet pounding down the steps.

“There’s the superstar,” Maverick teases from across the table, where he sits beside his brother, Cash.

I raise my hands, smirking at them. “In the flesh.”

“Sit your asses down and bow your heads,” Mav demands, and after having a few “family meals,” during their visits this summer, I already know what he’s about to say.

“Dear Lord, bless this food, bless the hockey puck, and the gridiron. And bless Nola’s parents for teaching him how to cook.” He even tops it off with one sharp clap, like we’re finishing a team huddle.

I chuckle. It's the same prayer every time. According to Mav, his gigi made him promise to bless his dinner every night. She knew Cash and Graham wouldn’t do it, so he took the responsibility like he always does for his twin and cousin. However, somehow, I feel like he’s the least responsible of the three.

“This looks like a five-star brunch,” I say, taking a bite of the eggs Benedict. I swear, even the presentation looks like something from a fancy restaurant. From what Nola has shared with me, his parents own a restaurant in New Orleans that was like his family’s second home growing up.

“Fuuuck. This slaps, Brody,” Graham moans, still chewing his food.

Nola chuckles. “Damn, it must be good if you are using my first name. I don’t think you’ve called me that since the first day of training camp last year.”

“He’s right, though,” Cash says as he shovels food into his mouth. Both he and Maverick are huge guys who likely have to eat a ton of calories to bulk up during the off-season of hockey.

“Thank you.” Nola nods proudly.

“Bellamy’s coming back tomorrow. She was asking if we’re going to do our before-school get-together here like we did last year?” Maverick asks, and my heart flutters at the mention of Bellamy, who I learned over the summer is not only the twins’ stepsister, but also Berkley’s best friend.

Will Berkley come too?

I’ve stopped myself so many times from seeking her out since I heard she was back from studying abroad, but I don’t want to bombard her after everything I put her through.

When I realized she blocked me after our breakup, I started writing down thoughts and conversations to her. I know it sounds pathetic, but it was the only way I found to cope with it and still be able to focus on football.

I’ve been contemplating writing something to deliver to her. Something to break the ice about me being here, and hopefully a way to get her to talk to me.

Graham’s answer pulls me from my thoughts. “I say we do it Sunday night, since it’ll be our last light day before school starts back up, but keep it just football and hockey. Invite only.”

“Bet,” Mav says. “But then after y’all whoop that Tennessee ass next Saturday, we’re throwing a big one here that night.”

“I like the sound of that.” Nola whistles.

Cash turns his attention to me between bites. “How’s Mountain Ridge treating you so far, Nate?”

I think about it briefly before answering honestly. “I like it. It feels more like home.”

“I bet it's nice being within driving distance of your family.” Nola’s expression is one I haven’t seen him wear before.

“Yeah, my dad and sister will be able to come to more games, so that’s nice.”

“Sister, you say?” Maverick asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Like fuck…” I level him with a stare.

He just chuckles, raising his tattooed arms in surrender. “Okay, okay.”

“QB, what’s up with you and Carter Graves? I know y’all grew up with him,” Nola asks as he looks between Graham and I. “But I haven’t seen you interact with him really at all.” He must have missed the little stare-down we exchanged at the end of practice, or maybe he didn’t and that’s why he’s asking.

“That pussy bitch,” Maverick growls.

“What?” I ask, remembering Graham telling me they didn’t vote Graves into the house, mainly because of the twins.

“He tried to fuck Cash’s girlfriend, Tori, freshman year. He knew exactly who she was too. No one disrespects my brother like that. I’ll never trust the punk.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know what the fuck she sees in him.”

His words have heat crawling all over my skin. I fucking hate they know her as being his.

“Yeah, he’s always been like that,” I bite out and turn to Nola. “I don’t have shit to say to him, so nah, you won’t see us interacting, unless it's with my fist in his face.”

“I knew I liked you.” Maverick chuckles. “So do you know Berkley too? I can’t imagine anyone from her hometown not knowing that girl… The first time I saw her, I thought I had died and gone to heaven. But Graham threatened our lives if we even tried anything with her.”

I smirk, giving Graham a look of appreciation. “Good.” Surprisingly, I don’t feel jealousy at hearing this; I just hope she knows how beautiful she is. Berkley has always been one of those girls who’s gorgeous beyond words and her own comprehension. No matter how many times I told her. My heart literally aches thinking about the way it feels to have her smile in my direction. I consider how much I should tell them, and I surprise myself again by deciding to open up.

“Yeah, I know Berkley…”

I close my eyes, trying to articulate the overwhelming emotion I feel thinking back to that day and all the months after. “I’m the one who broke her heart…and ripped mine out in the process. So as hard as it is knowing she’s with Graves, if that’s what she really wants, I deserve to sit here and watch. Doesn’t mean I have to fucking like it or make it easy on him, though.”

They all sit there in silence for a few seconds before Cash asks, “Did you break up with her because of the long-distance relationship?”

Again, I answer truthfully. “That’s what she thinks.”