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A few nights a week, I stayed at my parents’ house to make training with my dad easier, but that meant no one was around to distract me. Unfortunately, that also left me alone with my thoughts, which wasn’t any better. Instead of sticking around to count the rotations of my bedroom fan, I decided to go for a late-night walk.

As it turned out, I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t sleep. My dad sat in the kitchen with a glass of water, and his phone was on the table in front of him. His brows furrowed as he studied the screen, occasionally swiping. Only one thing in the world made him stare at his phone that hard.

“How’s the game?” I asked quietly as I went to the fridge to look for a cold water bottle. He only grunted in response, and I chuckled. Months ago, he’d bought into some ad-free marketing commercial for a puzzle game, and now the thing was his me-time wind-down. Although with how frustrated he got, I wondered if it was worth it. “That good, huh?”

“I’m this close to getting the gold cup this week,” he said. Oh, yeah. He loved his weekly competitions with his teammates. The man was hyper competitive. It bled into everything I did too.

I took a long sip of water as I leaned against the counter. I worked up the nerve to bring up Mrs. Kennedy. Mom probably already knew, but I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t want her to hear it through town gossip. That wasn’t fair to her.

“Did you hear about Mrs. Kennedy?” My question made him stop, and he turned off his game, rotating in his chair to look at me. The grim expression on his face said it all.

“Yeah. She told your mom earlier. Your mom’s inconsolable,” Dad replied. I nodded. I expected nothing less. “How’s Jude taking it?”

“As expected.”

“Mhmm.” He sighed heavily as he got to his feet. I watched him tidy up the table—not that it needed it. He was just keeping his hands busy. “Well, you tell that boy he’s always got a place here if he needs somewhere to go.”

“He knows,” I replied. Jude didn’t even bother knocking anymore. I was pretty sure our dog, Roscoe, loved Jude more than anyone else. He turned into a galloping disaster when Jude showed up.

“Good. And you? How are you handling the news?” Dad asked.

“I don’t know what I feel right now. I thought she’d be okay.” At least, I’d hoped she would.

“Yeah. The most you can do is make the memories now and make these next few months good ones for her. For all of them.”

“Making memories seems like such a morbid thing. It feels like giving up.”

“In some circumstances, giving up isn’t giving up. It’s just accepting the inevitable,” he said. “That’s all she’s doing. Making memories is all that’s left, so you make sure they’re good ones. Got it?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” He turned off the light over the table, flooding the room in darkness before flipping on the one above the sink. “Don’t stay out too late. You have to work out in the morning, and then we have drills to run.”

“I won’t.” I nodded automatically. Mornings with Dad had never been optional. The first hour was spent in the weight room while he critiqued my performance the previous week. He drilled into me what I did wrong and how to improve. The second hour was spent running routes, footwork, ball security, and whatever else he thought needed work. Rain or shine, holidays and birthdays. It didn’t matter. If there was a chance to make me a better football player, he took it. I used to hate it, but I understood the sacrifice now. “I promise.”

“Good. I’ll see you bright and early,” Dad told me before disappearing down the hall. I went to the back door, slipped on my shoes, and left, making sure to lock it behind me.

My house butted up to the massive park at the center of our neighborhood. Most days, it was full of activity, with kids playing and parents hanging out. There was always something going on, whether it was on the playground, the baseball field, or the pavilion. Nights, however, were usually quiet. Sometimes, there were crickets and fireflies, but that was it.

Whenever I needed to be alone, I always ended up there to think. Beyond the baseball field was a stretch of grass—though if the kids playing were older, it was a part of center field. On nights when my thoughts were too loud, I’d stretch out on my back and watch the sky move. It didn’t always work to soothe my nerves, but it did quiet them for a little while.

I dropped into the cool grass with a sigh, folding my arms behind my head, and closed my eyes to think. I wasn’t there for more than a few minutes when I heard footsteps rustling through the grass. I didn’t have to look to know who it was.

Jude wandered right up next to me, his hands shoved in the pocket of his hoodie. He stared up at the sky for a long moment before letting out a tired breath and flopping onto the ground next to me. His shoulder bumped mine as he made himself comfortable.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked softly. When I said nothing, he added, “Do you want to talk about it?”

I knew what he was trying to do, and I appreciated it more than he probably realized. If our positions had been reversed, I’d have done the same thing.

But every time I thought about opening my mouth, I couldn’t get the words out. How was I supposed to complain about my love life issues when his life was falling apart in ways I couldn’t begin to comprehend? Compared to what he was going through, my problems felt embarrassingly small.

And selfish. It felt so incredibly selfish to bring it up.

Besides, how was I supposed to explain any of it to him?

Hey, Jude? You know your older brother? Yeah, I’ve been secretly sleeping with him for almost a year, and somewhere along the way, I fell in love with him. Oh, yeah, and I haven’t told you yet, but I’m gay.

I made a face. I sounded pathetic, even in my own head.