“Can I come in?” The door opens a crack and he’s shoved his arm through the space, a Krispy Kreme doughnut bag tight in his fist. “I got you breakfast.”
Oh, how the tables have turned.
I sigh. “Ry, you didn’t have to.”
His head pops in as the door widens. “I didn’t have to, but Heather wanted company for her cold brew, so these doughnut holes just happened to work their way into my life.”
I smile weakly. This family’s love language is most definitely food. Ryan scoots into our room, turns to shut the door, and when he’s facing me again, I see he brought me a Pepsi, too.
His hazel eyes meet mine and he lights up in a smile. “Yes, I’m plying you with sugar.”
I take the bag and pop open the can. The fizz burns at my throat, and it’s exactly what I need. “Plying?”
A shrug. “It was in my English homework this week. Seemed appropriate.”
“My little brother, using grown-up words.”
He grins and dumps himself onto my bed. I sit down next to him and put the Krispy Kreme bag between us.
Just for him, I stuff an entire doughnut hole into my mouth and wash it down with more fizz. Even though all this sugar is totally going to make my headache worse. Still, I love him so hard for realizing I might need a treat.
“What did Dad do?” he asks.
“Told me to quit the team.”
He blinks. “Did you tell him about Coach Kitt and being recruited by Grey? Did you tell him that you threwthreefreaking touchdowns?”
“He didn’t want to hear it. Heinformedme that I didn’t think things through.”
“Sounds pretty similar to the speech he gave me about placekicking. ‘What if you get hit, Ryan, what then?’”
I nod—my brother is definitely angling for a full ride to play soccer. Circumstance gave us identical plans. “Same speech. I told him I’d already been hit, but he kept going—didn’t even acknowledge it. Had to stick to the script, I guess.”
“What else?” Ryan stuffs three doughnut holes into his mouth before I can ask what he means, but I’m pretty sure I know.
“No phone, no computer, no car the rest of the weekend. Grounded.”
He swallows. “Harsh.”
Yes, but it’s not the grounding that’s cleaved a void in my chest. Who knew eight days could leave such a wound? I didn’t know how much I’d enjoy football. I sigh.
Ryan crams two more doughnut holes into his mouth, slamming them down before speaking again. “So, what are you going to do?”
“Homework without a computer. Like a heathen.”
“Total heathen.”
“Good thing I don’t have a paper due.”
“You don’t, but I do.” He stands, and I realize he’s in workout gear but not his soccer stuff—no weekend practices for him, even on varsity. “Jesse and I are going to shootsome hoops. Paper later. Wanna watch a movie after? You aren’t grounded from that, right?”
I haven’t been grounded in forever, so I honestly don’t know. “I don’t think so.”
“Furious 7?”
I grin. “It’s a date.”
He turns at the door. “You sure you’re okay?”
