Lina never much liked football. She came to my games, but she didn’t think it was smart of me to pin my entire future on a sport where I could be injured or replaced or just plain not good enough. She was fond of calling it a hobby, not a career. And as much as I loved her, I loved football, too. And in the end, I chose the sport over her one too many times.

Needing a distraction, I look over at Brookes and say, “You need a hug, Isaiah? I could hold you if that would help.”

McClain gives me the finger. Moore actually pauses from kissing Dylan long enough to say, “Fuck off, Torres.”

I smile, feeling a little more normal, not to mention pleased when the couples end their affectionate hellos.

Dylan says to Silas, “Dallas is going to drop me off at home to get some things and my car, but then I’ll head over to your place?”

“I’ll be there,” he answers.

“Me, too,” I say, and Dylan gives me a patient smile.

“I’ll see you, too.”

Moore lifts his chin to McClain and says, “You and Dallas are welcome to join. It’ll just be us. Low-key. Just some TV or something, and Dylan said she’d cook.”

Dallas says, “Sure. I think we’d like that.”

“Don’t expect too much,” Dylan says. “I get by, but Antonella’s the real cook in our house.”

My chest tightens at her name, and the words are out of my mouth before I can help them. “You should bring her with you.”

Dylan gives me a searching look, but she doesn’t make any more speeches, nor does she tell the group about my little infatuation.

“I’ll ask.”

Then thoughts of Nell consume me on my drive home, and the whole time Silas, Isaiah, and I spend tidying up the apartment before everyone’s arrival. Will she avoid me? Ignore me? What will I have to say to get her to open up to me again? It won’t be easy. There will be too many people around, and she’s shy, but I’ve got to figure out some way to talk to her. I’m not okay with leaving things the way they were last night, and if I’m honest, I definitely don’t want a few minutes in a pool to be it between us. I need more time. Right now, she hasn’t blocked out Lina like I planned. Instead, she’s just stirred up even more memories, and I can’t live like this. It will keep messing with my head until I crash and burn. Or worse . . . until I call Lina. Something I haven’t allowed myself to do in nearly a year now. Because as good as it always felt to hear her voice, the stilted conversation, the space between us, was a knife to the chest. And I spent too damn long being a masochist over her.

Nell is supposed to end that. She has to end it.

Just as we finish cleaning up the living room, Silas gets a call from Dylan, and I listen in to his side of the conversation.

“Hey . . . Oh. Okay . . . Yeah, I’ll call McClain and tell him . . . It’s fine, Dylan. Really. Is she okay?”

She? Who is she? Nell?

“No,” Silas continues. “I’ll be fine alone.” Even I can hear the disappointment in his voice, which is why I’m guessing there’s a longer gap as Silas listens to whatever Dylan is saying. “You’re sure? If you need to just be with her—” He gets cut off. “You’re sure? We won’t just get in the way?” He pauses and then nods. “Okay, I’ll be there in ten.”

He hangs up and turns to Brookes and me. “Change of plans. Dylan needs to be at her apartment, so she can’t come over. But she said you guys are welcome to come over there instead if you want.”

He calls Carson, and that’s when I get the real explanation.

Nell is drunk, and Dylan doesn’t want to leave her home alone. When he hangs up the phone, I can’t hide my shock. “Nell is drunk? The Nell that lives with Dylan?”

“Wasted, apparently.”

“I’m in,” I say, and when we both look at Brookes, he’s watching me. And I can tell by the look he’s giving me that he knows I’ve got something going on with Nell and doesn’t approve. I lift an eyebrow in the most casual so-what? gesture I can offer.

He nods. “Sure. I’ll come.” But the words are said to me, not to Silas, and I get the feeling what he actually means is, Sure. I’ll come watch and make sure Torres doesn’t do anything stupid.

We tell Silas to go on ahead, and we’ll come along in a few minutes. But as soon as Brookes is in his room, I jog after Silas, and catch him as he’s getting into his truck. “You mind if I catch a ride with you?” I lie, “Brookes got a call, and he’s gonna be a bit.”

While Silas drives, he has me text Brookes and McClain the address. Brookes wants to know why I left with Silas, but I’m not about to tell him that I didn’t want to spend the car ride with him harping on me to leave Nell alone.

Because I can’t leave her alone. I just can’t.

Silas parks the truck, and I follow him up a metal and concrete staircase to a second-floor apartment. He opens the door without knocking, and that’s when I see Nell standing on the coffee table with some big red-haired dude, singing Spice Girls at the top of her lungs. We step inside just as she’s telling him what to do if he wants to be her lover.

I think of her list. She told me getting drunk was on it, and all of a sudden I’m furious that this guy got to help her check that task off instead of me. “Nell,” I say, before I think better of it. She twists to see me, and her socked feet slide on the coffee table, and then she’s stumbling into the ginger giant, and both of them are going down. I dart forward, but I can’t catch up to her. They hit the ground with a thud, a groan, and Nell’s too-cute giggles. She’s lying right on top of him, and he has his hands on her bare back where her shirt has ridden up from the yoga pants that fit her like a fucking miracle.

She lays her head in the crook of his neck like she’s completely forgotten that I’m here. If I stopped to think, I’d have known how crazy it would look to storm over and tear her off the guy. I would realize what my actions would mean to Silas and Dylan. But I don’t think. I just know I can’t spend one more second watching her snuggled up against this guy without losing my mind. She squeals as I pull her up into my arms, and I don’t think her feet are even touching the ground.

“You okay?” I ask, but all she does is laugh again and lay her head on my chest. I catch a whiff of alcohol, a strong one, and I realize she really is completely smashed. She probably doesn’t have a clue who she’s snuggling up against. Probably can’t even tell the difference between me and whoever the fuck is on the floor.