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The concern in his expression isn’t ill placed as he walks back toward me. “Have you been working with your offseason coaches?”
I look off, spinning the ball in my hands. “Every day.”
“Footwork? Mechanics? Hip rotation?—”
“Yeah, Noah.” I cut him off. “I’m doing the whole-ass Noah Riley thing. Working my way out of your shadow and all that bull.”
Noah frowns but says nothing. He’s great, but maybe I should have had Chase out here. At least he would let me pick a fight and fight back. Noah’s just too…Noah for that.
I can tell he wants to say something that would be in line with what my dad would say, and it would sound something like I’m not filling a shadow but stepping into a role I was made for as the next starting quarterback of Avix University now that he’s been drafted to the big boys’ game. Of course, he wouldn’t add that last little bit in—the man is far too humble for that.
It’s wild to think my twin sister, baby sister if you ask me, is dating a man who was picked in the first round of the NFL draft. I like to think she has me to thank for that—all those after-school and weekend hours spent on the bleachers paid off in a big way for her, and I’m not talking money.
I’m talking that gravity-defying, soul-defining, epic love story shit.
She has that.
I want that.
Fuck.
Shoving my hand through my hair, I look his way. “I’m just off my game today, that’s all. I’ve been slaying in practice. Doing two a day and ending in an ice bath, rotating to heat packs when called for. I’ve had no offseason and been in all summer so far. Coach says I’m solid.”
Noah nods, eying me curiously. “You do know there is such a thing as overdoing it, right?”
“Yeah, man. I know.”
“Then why are we out here when your calves are spasming? You could pull something if you don’t rehab right.”
“I said I’m doing ice baths.”
“I’m talking about now. Not at school.” He cocks his head a bit, and I know he’s done pretending he isn’t seeing more than an off day of practice. “You know you can talk to me, right?” he asks. “I mean, I’m not Chase or Brady or whatever, but we’re friends, Mason.”
“Come on, man.” I wave that off. “You’re fucking family, and you know it, so don’t start with that shit again.”
He smiles wide, and I can’t help the chuckle that leaves me.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask when he’ll propose to my sister. After the year they had and the love they had to fight for, I almost wonder if he already did and they haven’t told us yet. But when he looks back at me, an expectant look in his eye that says we’re not changing the subject, I face away.
He won’t pry. He’s not the type.
Shit, he was in love with my sister for months, listened to her talk about another dude for most of that, and never so much as said a word. He’s got the inner strength and willpower of a saint.
He’s the picture of patience, and here I am with a bobby pin I stole from Ari’s bathroom in my pocket, just waiting for night to fall so I can pick the lock on Payton’s room tonight and force her to talk to me.
Why won’t she talk to me?
A frustrated groan leaves me, and I glance toward Noah, but he isn’t looking at me anymore. A slow smile is spreading across his face, a faraway look taking over, and I don’t have to turn to know who stepped out onto the deck.
“Sister,” I call out to test my theory.
“Brother.”
Grinning, I peek over to find her leaning against the railing, chin pressed in her palm. Slowly, her eyes leave Noah’s and meet mine for a brief smile before sliding back to the man beside me.
The warmth in her gaze fills me with happiness, but just as quickly, the sentiment switches into something else.
He has his girl.
