Page 70 of Catching Feelings

I’m half joking, but Will looks offended at the mere suggestion. “What, did you think we were going to pull you off the starting line for one bad day?”

My silence is answer enough. They sure have enough guys to replace me. And honestly, I’m happy just to be playing—I don’t need any glory.

Will’s frown deepens. “How are you feeling today?”

“Much better.” I meet his eyes squarely. “I’m sorry for my attitude the last few days. And I really appreciate you checking in on me.”

He shrugs. “It’s my job. You let me help from now on, okay? You’re a part of our team now. We don’t just like you for your blocks and hits. We’re here for everything.” He hesitates. Then, lowering his voice, he adds, “Listen, I’ve been meaning to come clean about something. I know you were trying to keep the rumors from me, but… I knew.”

I blink. “What?”

Will smiles slightly. “Coach told me as soon as you joined the team. Your old coach said you were acting in defense of a friend, and as soon as we saw the way you pitched in here in Hamilton Lakes, we knew that other guy’s story was bullshit.” I’m gaping, all the puzzle pieces of the fall reshuffling in my mind. “You’re a good guy, Tyler. I never had any doubts about you. Just was worried about how you were coping with it all and wanted you to know you could lean on me if you needed to.”

I shake my head in disbelief. “Damn. I wish you’d told me, man. It would’ve been nice to know there was someone I could trust around here.”

Will cocks his head. “But would you have trusted me? I kinda got the sense you had your walls up until proven wrong, and I don’t blame you after everything you went through. I was kinda afraid I’d offend you—or spook you for good—if I said anything.”

“Yeah. You’re probably right.” Slowly, I start to smile. “I really tried to keep y’all at a safe distance.”

A matching smile tugs at the corners of Will’s mouth. “How’d that work out for you?”

I laugh. Maybe Will’s right. That I’m part of a team again, and they have my back the way I always wanted. Maybe one disappointment doesn’t have to mean I’m doomed for eternity. And maybe I need to be sure I have a full community around me so I’m not just leaning on Sabrina. I’ve never been that guy, and I don’t want to become him now.

So, I clap Will on the shoulder and say, “You know, if football doesn’t work out, you’d be a great therapist.”

Will screws up his face, considering. “I don’t know if I should be flattered or offended.”

I grin. “Both?”

And then we fall into the familiar roughhousing, all glancing punches and tousling of hair, that I hadn’t realized I missed so much until this moment. That same lightness carries me all the way out to the field, spills over onto my new teammates. Onto Kai, who I review plays with. And onto Gabe, who’s shaking out his hands and legs the way he always does when the nerves are getting the better of him before a game—who I slug playfully on the shoulder and remind, “You’re gonna feel better in about ten minutes.”

Next year is still precarious, dependent on John’s decisions. But I have at least one more game with these guys. And right now, that’s enough.

It’s then, feeling like I truly belong to my new team for the first time all year, that I look up into the stands and freeze at what I see: my parents and a line of my old teammates, right in the front row. Jared, Santi, Avery, and Dylan.

I remind myself to breathe. I hadn’t let myself imagine how good it might feel to see them again, and it has me embarrassingly emotional. I’d never thought the next time I saw my old team, they’d have their faces painted blue, wearing Hawks merch straight from Harper’s spirit-wear line. Avery even holds up a number 13 placard.

My eyes burn, and I have to blink hard to clear my vision as I break away from the Hawks and jog toward the bleachers.

“Tyler!” Mom cries, throwing her arms around me in the tightest squeeze I’ve ever experienced. “It’s so good to see your face outside of a cell phone screen! You’re full-sized!” She pulls back to survey me. “In fact, did you get even bigger?”

“I don’t know, Mom. We’ve been bulking.” I can’t repress my smile. “It’s good to see you too.”

Dad hugs me next, his clinch even tighter than Mom’s. “Your new team still treating you right?” he asks gruffly. “Because if they’re not, we can make some calls—”

“I’m good, Dad.” I shake my head, still grinning. “I miss you guys, but I like it here. And Uncle Mike and Aunt June and Ryan have all been great. Really.”

“Sounds like your new coach has been too.” He’s scanning the bleachers. “I’m glad he finally got you in front of some scouts. That guy from Michigan seemed real serious. You know if he’s here today?”

My stomach flips at the thought—I haven’t dared to hope—but luckily Mom slaps Dad’s shoulder lightly in reprimand.

“Evan,” she chides. “We can interrogate him later. He’s got a game to play. And—” She gestures down the line, where my old teammates are on their feet waiting. “And he has friends to see too.”

Dad nods. “Can’t wait to see you play again. You show ’em, okay? And then we’ll get dinner after. Catch up properly.”

I nod, hugging them both once more before I edge past to my friends, my heart racing. I told myself it didn’t matter—that if they didn’t trust me, there was no coming back from that.

But maybe there is. Maybe trust can be regained. If there’s one thing Sabrina’s taught me this year, it’s that there’s more hope than you sometimes fear.