Page 16 of The Game We Played

The sand shifts under my feet as I jog backward with my hands up. “Come on, Nolan. Try not to embarrass yourself.”

Nolan ignores me, scanning the beach like he’s trying to spot a receiver who keeps dodging coverage. Except in this case, the coverage is a certain female employee of the resort who scurries in the opposite direction every time she sees him.

“Earth to quarterback,” I holler. “You planning to throw the ball or write it a love letter first?”

He snaps out of it and fires the ball in my direction. It’s a little off, but I adjust, twist mid-stride, and catch it clean against my chest.

“Touchdown!” I shout, although we’re not keeping score.

“We’re not even playing with downs,” Corbin mutters, hands on his hips.

“It’s calledvibes,” I say. “Look it up.”

“You can’t look up vibes,” he grumbles.

“Not with your attitude.”

Gage jogs past me. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here I am. Your favorite teammate.”

“Debatable.”

“Not really.”

Brock doesn’t speak. He’s standing ten yards away, staring out toward the water. Has he forgotten we’re in the middle of a game?

I follow his line of sight and grin. May is out there with a surfboard, showing his son Jace how to balance. I don’t think he’s worried about his son’s safety. He’s much more interested in his son’s instructor.

Good. Brock hasn’t dated since Jace’s mom left him and their son. He could use a bit of happiness in his life. Doesn’t mean I won’t tease him, though.

“Well, well,” I say, nudging Gage. “Mr. Grumpy’s in love.”

Gage snorts. “He’s been staring at her for ten minutes.”

“Brock!” I shout. “You planning to join the game or write her a poem?”

His head snaps toward me. “Shut up.”

“Ooh. Touchy.”

“She’s my son’s instructor.”

I waggle my eyebrows. “But you want more.”

“None of your business.”

I disagree. Everything my teammates do is my business. Someone has to show them what the word ‘fun’ means.

Corbin claps his hands. “Are we playing or not?”

“Yes, Coach,” I say, saluting him. “Try not to have an aneurysm.”

Nolan tosses the ball up and down in his hands, but his eyes drift again. This time scanning the beach behind us. Groups of tourists, families, a couple of women sunbathing—

He frowns.

“You lose something?” I ask.