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“You can spot him as much as possible,” Tay says gently, his gaze on my profile. “Teach him all the right techniques and show him how to do this safely. But eventually, he's going to crash. You know it's inevitable.”

“Stop.” I press my knuckles into my eyes. “Just… he almost died last year, Tay. All because I had to go and punch him out for fucking Arya. Do you remember what he looked like in the hospital?”

“Yeah, I do, because Huck and I were there when he woke up. You weren't, though.”

My head whips toward him. “Wow. Low blow, motherfucker.”

Taylor raises his palms in defense. “Look, all of us had a lot going on after the crash. I’m just saying you can’t punish yourself forever over shit you couldn’t control.”

“Easy for you to say,” I scoff.

“Is it? Why do you think I watched every single one of Huckslee's college games? And then again, over the last four years, while he was playing for the Ravens? You think it's easy being miles away behind a screen while your boyfriend takes a tackle hard enough to possibly stop his heart?”

My chest tightens as I stare at my best friend, shocked into silence.

“Every hit,” he continues, “every fall. Every time he didn’t get back up right away, I'd think this is it. This'll be the call that kills me. I can't go through what happened in high school again, man.”

“Cariño, no,” I rasp, placing my hand on his arm. “That's not… It wasn't…”

He smiles dryly. “Yeah. Not my fault. See? I can’t control it. I can’t keep Huck from getting hurt, or stop the world from being cruel. All I can do is love him through the bad. And that's all you can do, too.”

Devon finally loops back around to head toward us. “Kay, I think I'm done for the day. It's fucking freezing.”

He swings his leg over the bike and hops down, boots crunching in the snow as he pulls his helmet off. Nose red, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat despite the chill—alive and beautiful. I have to look away to hide the emotion on my face.

“You good?” he asks, brows knitting together.

“Yeah,” I lie. “Just cold.”

He nudges my shoulder. “Thanks for teaching me. Both of you.”

“Anytime,” Tay says easily.

Dev grins again before wheeling Huck’s bike toward the truck, breath puffing around his cheeks.

My best friend slaps my arm lightly. “Gets easier, I promise.”

“I don't believe you,” I mutter, but he’s already walking away.

I stand there and stress for a bit longer than necessary before shoving my hands into my pockets to follow. There’s no point sending myself into a spiral. No amount of worrying is going to rewind last year or stop whatever comes next. I can’t hover over Dev forever.

Like Taylor said: All I can do is love him through the bad—and hope that it's enough.

Night has fully fallen by the time Dev and I get home, both of us exhausted from hours of riding.

He slides out of the Bronco after me, but doesn't move when I start toward the apartment. Instead, he leans against the passenger door with his face tipped toward the sky.

“You coming?” I ask, craving a hot shower.

He responds absently. “In a sec.”

Deciding to join him, I pull out a pack of smokes and press into his side for warmth.

“Forgot how many stars you can see out here,” he murmurs when I offer him a cigarette.

“Yeah. City lights usually kill ‘em.”

We stand there in silence, passing the smoke back and forth as the night sky stretches above us.