Knox
Thanks, sis.
She sends me her usual string of emojis as a sign off. A heart, a hug, a confetti bomb, and a little mermaid. I start a new text, only this time it’s to my big brother.
Knox
Do you have a few days off? Mav needs us in LA, and I need to talk to you.
I put my phone on the shelf, changing quickly into clean clothes and tossing my sweaty workout gear into my bag. I’m halfway to my car when my phone buzzes with his reply.
Austin
You’re in luck.
I’m feeling better already as I book the flight and send him my travel information.
* * *
“I really thoughtI had what it took to go all the way.” I’m walking through the LA grocery store with Austin and Edward, pulling a liter of tequila off the shelf and putting it in the cart. “I thought we’d get our rings.”
We’re on a supply run. Mav’s clearly happy to have us all visiting him—he told me to come on—but he didn’t know I was also bringing Austin and our “cousin” Edward with me, and we’re big eaters. And drinkers.
“In NFL history, no rookie quarterback has ever started a Super Bowl,” Edward notes in his usual, matter-of-fact way.
Actually, Edward is our aunt Rachel’s little brother, but hewas our age when she married Uncle Zane, so we’ve always thought of him as a cousin. He and Austin are best friends, so to me, he’s more like another big brother.
“Hang on.” I stop walking, halting the cart, and both of them pause to look at me. “I thought the Bengals went?—”
“Second year.” Austin grunts as he lifts a suitcase of Dos Equis Amber and puts it in the cart. “This should last our visit.”
I hesitate in the aisle, doing the math in my head. “Hell,” I hiss. “You’re right. How did I lose a whole year?”
“The lockdown fucked with everybody’s timeline,” my brother notes.
“It’s a common thing for dates to blur during times of extreme stress.” Edward talks like a computer. He’s neurodivergent and one of the smartest and best guys I know.
The weight in my chest lightens. “There hasn’t been a single rookie quarterback starting the Super Bowl? In all NFL history?”
“Not even me.” Austin punches my upper arm playfully, a gleam in his eye. He’s fucking with me, but I’m feeling a lot better now that I know I had it wrong. “Stop beating yourself up about it and focus on how you can improve next year.”
“That’s why I wanted to talk to you.” I look up at him. “How can I improve? You watched all the games. You’re taking over for Dad as head coach in Newhope. Give me your feedback.”
His lips purse, and he glances at Edward, whose expression is neutral as always.
“You need a better wide receiver.” The nice thing about Edward is he doesn’t leave you guessing about what he thinks. “Your offensive line is weak. Your defense needs work as well, but focusing on you, you’re not going to win a passing game without more of a pocket.”
Austin grins warmly, like he always does when Edward lays it all out there in a way even a toddler could understand.
“That.” He nods at Edward.
“Hey Eddie, ever considered coaching pro ball?” I can’t resist.
Edward’s lips press into a thin line, and he considers my question. “I’m not proficient in that level of interpersonal communication. I have considered consulting, however.”
“When you’re ready to make the leap, let me know. I’ll be your agent. We’ll make a killing.”
His brow furrows, and he studies me. “Have you ever worked as an agent?”
