Page 20

“If you could play football professionally, would you?” Rhodes continued. The question caught me off guard.

“I mean, I guess.” I shrugged. “That’s every college football player’s dream, isn’t it? To go pro.”

“Is that your dream?”

I frowned. No one had ever asked me that. They asked how fast I could run or how my last game was. They asked about training and routines. They talked about stats and what I needed to improve. Hell, my dad had been talking about the NFL since I was young enough that it barely felt like something I’d decided for myself.

But was it my dream? I really didn’t know.

“I don’t know if I’d say it’s a dream,” I told him honestly. I was under no illusions about my ability to attract scouts. I was good, just not that good. “Would I jump at the chance? Yeah, but who wouldn’t? But I know that’s not going to happen.”

“Well, I wouldn’t leave it off the table either,” he said. I stopped walking again, frowning deeply. What did that mean? This time, Rhodes made it several feet before he noticed. Instead of ignoring me, he stopped and faced me, crossing his arms.

“Do you know something I don’t?” I asked.

“No,” Rhodes told me. “I’m just saying I’ve seen you play and you’re good. Don’t bank on it being a thing, but don’t be afraid to put your all into it either if that’s what you want. Are you having trouble in any of your classes?”

My stomach twisted. He sounded so goddamn sincere. That almost made it worse. Rhodes wasn’t brushing me off because he’d suddenly lost interest. He was redirecting his interest into something acceptable as my coach.

“Not really,” I replied.

“If you need a tutor, let me know. The college has resources—”

“I don’t want your resources, Rhodes,” I cut him off. “I just… want answers. Real answers.”

For the first time since we’d started talking, something in his expression changed. It wasn’t much, but I still caught it.

“Theo,” he began softly, his tone far too gentle for my comfort. Even as he spoke, his gaze drifted over the team, tracking their movement. He watched to make sure no one overheard him. “You knew going into this that it wasn't going to last. It was always temporary. I’m not staying in Everdale.”

I hated the way he said it. Not because he raised his voice. Rhodes rarely needed to. It was the maddening calmness in his tone, like he was explaining something obvious to a kid who hadn’t been paying attention.

You knew. Maybe I had. Technically, he’d never promised anything to me. But knowing something had an expiration date didn’t mean I was supposed to feel nothing when it finally arrived. I wasn’t that person. I couldn’t just turn off my feelings like they’d never mattered in the first place.

Maybe he could… or maybe I hadn’t mattered as much as I thought I did.

“And I’m here because your coaches were fucking some cheerleaders,” he reminded me. “I understand circumstances are different, but it doesn’t matter.”

“Why’d you take it then?” The question slipped out before I could decide whether I wanted him to answer. What I actually meant was something far more pathetic. Why wasn’t I enough of a reason not to? I hated myself a little for thinking it.

Rhodes had a life, and it was silly for me to think he’d factor me into his decision.

Was it pathetic to wish I could be an influence on his choices? Probably. But I just wanted to mean something to him. I wanted what we had to mean something.

“It was always temporary, Theo,” Rhodes repeated.

There it was again. That stupid word. Temporary. I searched his face, searching for all the little things I’d learned over the last year—the tiny crease between his brows when he was annoyed, the tension in his jaw when he was trying not to react, how his lips pressed together when he was upset. I looked for any sign of regret or hurt about what this was costing him.

Instead, all I found was finality, and I hated it.

CHAPTER 06

Theo

We all clambered into the bleachers all over again when Rhodes summoned us. When Coach Kennedy summoned us. I hated even thinking it. Coach Kennedy sounded wrong in a way I couldn’t explain to anyone. It was too formal and distant. He wasn’t supposed to be Coach Kennedy. And I was bitter enough about it that the safest option seemed to be ignoring him completely.

I dropped onto the bleachers between Wyatt and Jude, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees, and stared somewhere in Rhodes’ general direction without listening to whatever he was talking about.

Unfortunately, that lasted all of maybe thirty seconds because Jude could sense when something was wrong with me long before I announced it. Normally, I didn’t mind. Today, I found it deeply irritating. His shoulder kept bumping into mine until I rotated enough to glare at him.