“I sure can try,” I answer.
Two hours pass quickly. Laughter and easy conversation focused on summer vacations, Finn and Reagan’s children, the youngest who just turned one, and a few memories from past games. No other spoons are thrown, and I don’t take any more verbal jabs at Sean.
Slowly everyone starts to leave until it’s just Emmitt, his wife, Paisley, Milo, and me.
Emmitt takes a deep breath. “So, you too good to coach me, Carter?”
Paisley elbows him, and Emmitt mocks hurt before he places a kiss on her forehead. “Excuse his bluntness, Milo,” she says.
Milo smiles at Paisley before he looks at Emmitt and answers, “It’s not like that.”
“Then what’s it like?” he asks. “I could use your help.”
I look over at Milo. He’s smiling, but there’s something careful in it, like he’s already bracing for disappointment.
Emmitt leans back in his chair. “I’ve got the speed. I’ve got the size. But sometimes I get in my own head.” He shrugs. “Coach says it’s mental. Says I need someone who’s been there. Someone who knows what it’s like when the game stops being fun.”
Milo’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly, and my mind snags on the fact that Emmitt just said there was a time when the game wasn’t fun for Milo.
“You were different,” Emmitt continues. “You didn’t just run plays. You saw the field. You made it make sense.”
Silence stretches between them.
I watch Milo then—not as the man I know I still love, but asthe one they’re talking about. The one who listens when others speak. The one who steadies without trying to lead.
The one who never realizes how much space he fills simply by being himself.
This is what I saw in Milo so many years ago. His potential.
And I’m afraid he’s wasting it by not being here.
Emmitt exhales. “Listen, I get it if you say no. I really do. I just figured I’d ask, as a friend.”
Milo nods once. “I’ll think about it.”
It isn’t a promise, but as we stand to leave, I notice Emmitt’s shoulders relax, just a little—like hope alone is enough for tonight.
Paisley walks over to me, reaching her hand out to grab mine. She pulls me to the side, out of earshot of the men. “It was really great to meet you, Sadie.” Her eyes flit over to Milo before they return to mine. “It’s good to see Milo’s grin back, although I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him like this.”
I study her face—freckles dancing across her nose and lashes framing subtle green eyes. “Like what?” I ask.
“Happy,” she replies simply.
I furrow my brows. “Well, I know the injury?—”
She shakes her head. “I’m not talking about after the injury.”
“Then what do you mean?” I glance over at Milo, who’s looking at us instead of focused on Emmitt talking to him.
“Milo dated one girl during his first year as a Giant.”
“Evelyn,” I say, remembering the name easily. Milo said they dated for two months—that she was as serious as a conversation about the weather.
Paisley rolls her eyes, laughing under her breath. “I set him up. He was so reluctant. Talked about this girl named Sadie, and I kept asking him where she was. He finally gave in.” She pauses and chuckles lightly. “Milo was polite, reserved. It was like he had to remind himself how to smile when she was talking to him. He’s not like that with you. He’s . . . different—like part of him had alwaysbeen missing, and it was you.”
Paisley gives my hand a squeeze before letting go, like she’s said everything that needed saying.
I look over at Milo, and he’s still looking at me—steady, soft, familiar.
