Page 25 of Halo

Nick

“Santi, take the goddamn shot!”

Jonathan slaps the basketball away from Julian, stealing it clean and taking it to the top of the key. He dribbles casually, taunting us with a smug little grin.

“Cover him, Crawford!” Julian hollers.

I rush Jonathan, but the slick bastard moves like a fox. He fakes right, then cuts left. Before I can recover, my ass hits the hardwood as he drives the lane and sinks another layup.

“Um, hello?” I yell. “That’s a foul!”

“Foul?” Jonathan laughs, grabbing the rebound and holding it casually against his hip. “Hardly. Your clumsy ass fell.” Extending his hand, he helps me up off the ground. “You two do know that someone still has to play defense when playing two-on-one, right?”

I stop short, glaring at him. “Chode.”

Jonathan snorts. “And yet, I still scored on you.” He spins the ball between his palms before passing it to Julian. “Alright, c’mon, Santi. Check me.”

Julian lets the ball bounce weakly off his leg while he rests his hands on his knees. “Give me a second,” he pants. “Are we … are we almost done?”

“You okay?” Jonathan chuckles.

Julian slowly stands up straight, wincing as he blows out a heavy breath. “Yeah … never better, ‘Migo.”

“Maybe we should play to eleven rather than fifteen,” Jonathan suggests, grabbing a towel and water bottle for Julian.

I scoff. “You’d like that wouldn’t you. That means you already won.”

Jonathan shrugs, stifling a grin.

“Buen partido,” Julian jokes before lifting his arms and resting them on top of his head. “Who’s idea was this anyway?”

“Yours, you oaf.” I snicker.

“I think—” he starts to catch his breath—“I think we’re too old for this.”

“We’re?” Jonathan repeats, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t think it has anything to do with age,” I joke.

This earns us a scowl from Julian, making us all laugh.

Julian Santiago and Jonathan Ramsdale have been my closest friends since we met at the Debakey School of Medicine in downtown Houston. It started out as a roommate situation, and we grew close quickly—that is until I threw it all away at the end of our final year. I did something abhorrent and unforgivable, and Jonathan cut off all contact with me— rightfully so. Julian had no clue. We were all going different directions for residency anyway.

After residency, I worked for a hospital in the suburbs, but remained in touch with Julian. He’s the one that gave me the heads up about the anesthesia position at the G-Dub. The difficult part? Jonathan was also working there. Worse? He had done his residency there and was well-liked. But when I came on board, Julian served as a buffer without even realizing it, and after about a year, Jonathan and I were chatting again. Not close like we had been, but at least he was talking to me. Then before I knew it, it was like old times again, the three of us. Well, plus Chelsea, Julian’s wife. They’ve been together since high school, and they now have three daughters that keep them on their toes. Jonathan has Tatum back in his life, and he didn’t waste any time putting a ring on it. I don’t blame him. They never should’ve been torn apart for the past decade. Then again, I have a knack for ruining good things.

“Have you decided about next Tuesday night yet?” Jonathan asks, grounding me from my thoughts.

“Your brother’s gig?” I lift the hem of my shirt, wiping at my forehead. “As much as I’d love to listen to the sound of—what do they call themselves? Vandal’s Way? I kinda already have plans.”

“Really?” Julian takes a sip of water. “Doing what?”

I rub the back of my neck. “Oh, it’s, uh—” I clear my throat—“I was planning on going out for drinks that night.”

Jonathan and Julian share a glance before staring at me.

“With who?” Julian chimes in.

“No one.” I pivot around, grabbing my own water bottle. “I just thought it would be nice to go up there when it wasn’t too crazy.”