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Or is Sienna right? Am I in denial?

I look back toward the field and find Milo almost instantly.

Which proves absolutely nothing, of course.

I ignore the looks Sienna and Paige are giving me and pretend to be invested in the game. Thankfully, they take the hint and let me off the hook, dropping the subject altogether. Unfortunately, getting my friends to let it go is a whole lot easier than getting my mind to do the same.

Milo looks different out there. For one, I swear he’s grown another foot over the summer. He was already tall, but now, surrounded by guys who look like they eat protein powder for breakfast, he somehow still manages to stand out.

But it’s more than that. He looks like he belongs out there.

Being chosen as Fairhope’s starting quarterback his freshman year was a big deal. Freshmen barely got playing time on varsity, never mind being trusted to lead the entire offense. But Milo took to the position like a fish to water.

Now that he’s a sophomore, with a full season under his belt, he looks completely in his element—confident, comfortable. Like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

I catch myself smiling as Milo takes the snap and steps back, scanning the field for an open receiver.

Then everything happens at once. The pocket collapses around him.

Milo tucks the ball against his chest and takes off running, dodging one player before another comes charging at him from the side.

Holy shit. What the hell are they feeding these guys?

The kid looks like an ogre. He has to be twice Milo’s size.

He slams hard into Milo. My smile disappears.

Milo goes down beneath him, and I’m on my feet before I even realize I’ve moved.

“Come on, Milo,” I whisper.

Players start peeling themselves off the pile.

One, two, three.

Still, Milo stays down.

My hands knot together in front of me as my heart begins pounding harder with every second that passes.

“Come on. Get up.”

Nothing.

“Get up, Milo.”

Why isn’t he getting up?

The noise around me seems to fade as I stare at the blue-and-white jersey still lying on the field.

Come on. Come on. Please.

Then, finally, he moves.

A breath tears out of me as Milo pushes himself onto his hands and knees before climbing slowly onto his feet.

The stands erupt around me, while I just stand there, staring at him, my hands still clenched together and my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest.

Crap. Maybe Sienna has a point. Perhaps I am living in denial.