“He bailed on practice, and he’s not answering anyone’s texts. I called him like three times.”
Jasmine’s eyebrows fly up. “Really?” She grabs her phone. “I’ll text Nikki. Maybe she knows where he is.”
“We have our first playoff game tomorrow,” Connor says grimly. “This isn’t like him. Coach waspissed.”
He’s right. This isn’t like Everett. Football is his life. He works hard. Waking up early to run the trail, then school, then practice, then another run when he gets home. He wouldn’t bail on practice before an important game unless it was serious.
Or unless some new girl in town crushed his heart to dust.
Jasmine’s phone chimes. She checks the screen and reports back, “Nik says he’s at home.”
Connor’s cheeks hollow as he grits his teeth. “Okay, I guess it’s good he’s not dead in a ditch somewhere. But he still screwed us big-time today. He better be at that game tomorrow.”
It worries me enough that I find myself lacing up my boots. I grab a jacket in the mudroom and duck out before anyone can ask where I’m going. Some people might be scared of traversing the woods in the dark, and despite the inkling in the back of my mind that I might get eaten by a bear, I don’t feel much fear as I make my way toward Everett’s house.
I walk up the long drive. The house is all lit up. I hear barking from inside and from the separate building next door. The kennels.
“Ryan?”
I turn away from the porch and spot Everett on the lawn, stepping out of the shadows. He’s with Bella, the senior golden.At the sight of me, the dog pads over to nudge my hand with her nose.
“Hey, girl,” I murmur, crouching down to pet her. I scratch her soft ears as I peer up at Everett. “Hi.”
“What are you doing here?”
His expression is gloomy. Very un-Everett-like. At school, he’s the charming, happy-go-lucky football player, so it’s weird seeing him so stone-faced, his broad shoulders sagging, his demeanor prickly.
“I heard you missed practice. I was worried.”
He crosses his arms. “Since when do you care if I go to practice?”
His rudeness stings, and for a second I’m tempted to retreat, to give some throwaway answer and leave. But he deserves more than that.
“You have a scholarship,” I remind him. “If missing practice jeopardizes that…”
He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Right. Can’t let the golden boy slip up.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I missed one practice. No one’s gonna care.”
“Everett.” I give Bella one last pat before straightening. “You’ve worked so hard. Don’t let what I did mess that up. You’re better than that.”
Lips flattening, he dismisses me from his gaze, turning to stride across the lawn. He whistles softly for Bella. The dog follows him eagerly, as if she’s happy to get another walk in before bedtime.
I hurry after them. Annoyed. I get that he’s upset I ended things, but he doesn’t have to be a dick about it.
“Everett, come on, wait.”
The grass is browning from the fall chill, crunching beneath my boots. He glances over his shoulder as we near the edge of the lawn, passing the stone firepit.
“Why are you really here, Ryan?”
“I told you, I wanted to make sure you were okay. I don’t want you blowing off practice and screwing up your life because I—”
He interrupts with a laugh. “You think it was because of you?”
I blink.
“That I’ve been sitting alone pining for Ryan Shipley, unable to throw a pass without bursting into tears over you?”
I feel stupid now.
