Page 100 of Here We Go Again

“Let’s go sit on the patio,” Mom says. “They’re young. They can absolutely do the dishes.”

Becca sits on the counter while I load the dishwasher. We did a lot of cleaning as we prepped, so there isn’t much to do. But I like that she’s keeping me company anyway.

“So the captain thing,” she says, her voice tentative. “Is there a story there?”

I add another plate to the bottom rack. “No story,” I say. “Carter told her that Coach will pick a new alternate captain since Miles is out for his shoulder surgery. He told Mom my name was mentioned, and she hasn’t been able to let it go.”

“That feels like a big deal. That your name was mentioned.”

“According to Carter, which … he’s biased, so…”

“But he wouldn’t make it up.”

“I guess not. But it doesn’t matter either way. I don’t have any desire to be captain.”

She’s quiet long enough that I stop what I’m doing and turn to look at her. “What?” I say when I see her quizzical expression.

“Nothing. I just think you would be good at it, so I’m trying to figure out why you don’t want to.”

She’s sitting cross-legged, hands resting on her knees, and I step closer, leaning my hands on the counter in front of her. “Don’t overthink it. It’s not complicated. It’s just not a role I’m cut out for.”

She narrows her gaze. “Okay, but wait. Is it something you don’t want? Or is it something you don’t think you’re cut out for? Because those aren’t the same things.”

“Can’t it be both?”

She lifts her hands to my shoulders. “Only if your reasons for not wanting it are more valid than you just not thinking you can. Because you totally could.”

“And you know that based on what?” I ask, my tone a little sharper than it should be. “A version of me from high school?”

Becca winces, her hands falling away from my body, and I immediately regret my words.

“Bec, I’m sorry,” I quickly say, catching her hand. I raise it to my lips, pressing a kiss to her palm. “That came out wrong. I appreciate that you think I could, but it’s not how I see myself.”

She nods. “Okay. I get it.”

I lean forward and press a quick kiss to her lips. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

She rolls her eyes playfully. “Relax. You didn’t snap at me. I’m sorry I pushed.”

It only takes a few more minutes to finish the dishes. It’s a nice night, and I think about asking Becca to go for a walk. But then my phone buzzes with an incoming call.

I pull it out of my pocket and see my agent’s name lighting up the screen.

My stomach tightens. Shawn is a great agent. But he usually only calls when he has something important to say.

“Everything okay?” Becca asks.

“I hope so. I need to take this.” I quickly answer the call before it gets sent to voicemail. “Hey, Shawn,” I say.

Becca motions to the back patio, and I nod, watching as she moves outside and sits down with our moms.

“Theo. How are you?” Shawn asks.

“Good. Great. In Florida for a week of vacation.”

“Oh, sweet,” Shawn says. “You deserve the time off. How’s the hand? You ready for training camp?”

“Ahh, still working on it,” I say. “I hope I’ll be playing, but … it’s been a long road, you know?”