Page 24 of The Interception (Southern Sports Sweethearts #2)

Chapter Eighteen

Ender

Coach’s emergency impromptu meeting ended up being an extra practice no one had prepared for, so there was more complaining and groaning than usual.

I spent the entire practice trying to figure out what we could design that would be easy for Layne to make on her own, but enough to blow the judges away.

It’s evening before I make it back home. Fortunately, Layne was kind enough to take my sister to her interview, but when I walk through the front door and find Sarah Beth in her pajamas, I realize it was another bust.

She didn’t even speak to me when I entered the living room.

She merely forced a smile, picked up her blanket, and waddled to her bedroom.

My heart cracks again, bringing the grand total to about a thousand and one fractures that I’m not sure I can repair.

My sister’s pain couples with mine and I miss my best friend all over again.

I know my friend and his freakish obsession with safety.

I know he looked both ways. He was careful.

Paid attention. But he never expected a drunk driver to hop the curb and slam into him the second he took his foot off the sidewalk.

Despite knowing all of this, I still get angry with him for leaving.

I have to remind myself it was the last thing he wanted, not with Sarah Beth and Lula still here, grieving for him.

But it’s hard, and it only gets harder with each passing day.

Reminding myself I need to call Layne doesn’t stop the pain.

In fact, it only amplifies it in some ways.

Her cheerful, supporting personality and the way she’s not afraid to show her vulnerability when she’s not cheerful reminds me so much of Asher.

It’s probably why Sarah Beth immediately bonded with her.

I fall on the sofa and call her.

“Hey,” she answers. “Long day for you. How are you?”

“Good, I guess.”

The line goes silent for a while, just the sound of my own breathing.

“What happened, Ender?” Her tone is different. It’s soft, kind, welcoming in a way that makes me want to tell her every single thing that’s ever gone wrong in my life, then tell her that when I’m with her, it doesn’t seem so awful anymore.

Instead, I say, “Sarah Beth’s interview. I guess it went badly?”

“Oh,” she whispers. “Yeah. It went about as awfully as my last one did. I took her to get ice cream, she cried it out, then wanted to be alone with Lula after the sitter left. I offered to stay, but she just needed some time.”

“Yeah, I get it. It’s hard to watch her failures pile up on her, you know? Not that they’re really failures, but to her they are. It takes a lot out of her. And Asher was always so good about lifting her up and supporting her through things like this.”

“The way your tone changes when you talk about him, I can tell you really loved him, too,” Layne says.

“He was my best friend. I think when he died it hit me as hard as it did her, and for a long time I felt guilty about that. Like I shouldn’t be grieving at all because he was her husband, the father of her child.

You know? And don’t even get me started on dating.

I can’t imagine doing that while she’s in this position.

” I don’t mean to say that last part, especially since I’m not so sure I believe it anymore.

“I guess that makes sense why you might feel that way, but it’s not true. You need to grieve too.”

My deep sigh fades over the line. “I know. I do in some ways, but just when I think I’ve got my feelings sorted out, something reminds me of him. Or Lula will do something so adorable, and I think I should record it to show him later and…then it hits me all over again.”

My chest tightens thinking about my niece and how much she’ll miss without her father in the picture. I miss him more than words can fully define.

“Do you want to tell me about him? Would that help sort some things out?”

Can I talk about him without falling into more grief than I can manage right now? Probably not, but Layne’s soft, lulling tone almost has me wanting to tell her every detail of my life, including how he came into it like a wrecking ball.

“Yeah, I think maybe I do. Can you meet me somewhere? I feel…stifled in this house right now. If it’s not too late for you, I mean.”

“Why don’t you come over here? We can build a fire in the pit out back and talk. Sound good?”

“Sounds amazing. I’ll be right over.”

This is a bad idea. I know it is. How many times can she wiggle free from my embrace before I accept reality?

She’s not interested in me, and trying to pretend otherwise is going to cause problems between us.

So why am I still driving over to the house where she’s staying? Because I am a glutton for punishment.

She’s already sitting on the front porch swing when I arrive, but stands when I approach.

It’s probably pretty cozy wrapped inside that bundle of blanket she’s cocooned herself in, but that’s another thing I should not be thinking about.

I’m here to talk about…good gosh… feelings.

Not the ones I have for her, but the horrible guilt, earth-shattering sadness, and profound sense of emptiness I have whenever I think of my best friend.

“You must have sped the whole way.” Layne opens the front door and escorts me inside.

“Minimal traffic.” I shrug it off but I might have sped the whole way. I don’t even remember stopping for traffic lights, which is probably a bad sign.

“I already got a fire started and made us some hot cocoa. Unless you’d rather have coffee?” She pauses with her hand on the door leading to the back yard.

“Cocoa is fine. Thank you.” I’m glad I brought a coat, because it seems like there’s only one blanket, and she is thoroughly tangled up in it.

I step over the threshold into the yard and scan for a seat.

“On the other side of the fire,” she says. Following her around, I’m surprised to find how much she thought this through. She put a blanket on the ground along with a tray of hot cocoa and snacks—including s’mores supplies—and there are even a few pillows to lay back on.

“This is nice.” No other words come to mind other than is this a date, but that seems like a really dumb thing to ask her right now.

She’s offered to be a sounding board for me, someone I can talk to about Asher and maybe release some of the grief I’ve been keeping inside.

Let’s face it, talking to the guys on the team about it is almost impossible.

Leo would be great, I’m sure, but there’s something about crying in front of him that doesn’t appeal to me.

And putting this on Sarah Beth is too much.

“You seemed to need a calm night. Not that your house isn’t calm but…you know.” Layne eases herself onto the blanket and pats the space beside her. “Sit, tell me all about Asher.”

Now that I’m here, my mind is only on her.

She’s so beautiful in the firelight. The sparkle in her eyes is brighter, and for a moment I think this is what life could be like.

Nights outside by a fire, talking to her, connecting with someone I’m not afraid to share deep and meaningful things with.

Then I remember how many times she’s dodged my advances in the last twenty-four hours alone.

I sit with some space between us and an awkward tension settles.

My elbows naturally settle on my knees and I fidget with my shoelaces while staring into the fire.

Layne gives me time, patience, silent support that I don’t realize I’ve missed until it’s given to me.

Then my old friend guilt fills in the empty spaces.

Sarah Beth would give me all of those things if my best friend hadn’t also been her husband.

“Ender,” Layne whispers, pulling my attention from the fire. She moves closer and wipes her fingers over my cheeks, drying tears that slipped free when I wasn’t paying attention.

“I’m sorry.” I wipe my face and clear my throat.

“I don’t want you to be sorry. I didn’t ask you to come here for a party.

I asked you to come so you’d have a safe place to do this.

” She motions over me, I assume indicating she’d anticipated my crying or breaking down over losing the one person who knew me better than anyone else…

and still liked me despite my bad attitude back when we were young.

“Asher was my first real friend. I wasn’t always this remarkably pleasant person, you know.”

Layne bites her lip but her laughter breaks free. “Stop. You’re perfectly likeable.”

“When I don’t put my foot in my mouth, maybe.”

She snuggles still closer and opens the blanket, inviting me into the cocoon of warmth she’s created.

I can’t say no to an offer like that. With ease, I drag her up against my side and wrap us both inside.

She eases back and we stare at the stars as little tendrils of smoke swirl their way up to the sky.

She settles her head on my chest, my arm around her shoulders, and hers around my waist. If it weren’t for the ache weighing on my chest, I might give it one last go with her. Try to test the waters and she if she’ll bite, but I don’t want to ruin this moment of pure, sweet friendship with her.

“Tell me how you became friends,” she says.

“We got into a fistfight over a girl.”

Layne’s head pops up and her eyebrows raise. “A girl?”

“Yep. It was a love triangle at the ripe old age of eight, but after a scuffle, a busted nose, and detention for a week, we decided we liked each other better than either of us liked the girl. We became friends that week and never looked back.”

“That’s interesting.” She settles her head back on my chest. “Where does Sarah Beth find her way into it?”