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“You guys can’t be serious,” I replied. They were. Every single one of them looked suddenly invested in this ridiculous idea.

“Come on, old man!” Jude taunted. “Or are you too afraid that I’ll beat your ass?”

There it was. The exact combination of words guaranteed to override every intelligent thought in my head. Fuck that shit. And there was no way in hell I was letting my little brother walk around believing I was afraid to lose to him. I could already hear him bringing it up at every family gathering for the rest of our lives.

“Final counteroffer: no contact and I’ll be opposing team quarterback, but I want Theo as my running back,” I snapped, scowling.

The words were out before the smarter part of my mind could stop them. Was that dangerous? Probably. Of every player on that field, Theo was the one person I shouldn’t have singled out, but if Jude wanted to challenge me, I planned to beat him properly. Theo was the best running back on the field. That was objective. It was entirely football-related and nothing else.

“Deal!” Theo exclaimed all too quickly. Fuck. Yeah, probably a bad idea. The grin on his face alone should’ve been enough warning.

“Oh, come on!” Jude protested. “He’s my running back.”

“Well, today he’s my running back.” Silence would’ve been smarter, especially when Theo turned that look on me. His brows lifted slightly, his mouth curved, and suddenly the completely innocent phrase my running back sounded significantly less innocent than it had in my head.

Jesus fuck. I needed to stop talking before I got myself in trouble.

“All right, up!” I ordered. “Let’s get this shit going! We need to get teams figured out.”

That successfully redirected the chaos. What followed was nothing short of ridiculous. More than half the team immediately tried to claim spots on my side—not because of loyalty, obviously, but because apparently playing one recreational game with their temporary coach was now some kind of bucket-list event.

People were shouting over one another, trading positions, and trying to negotiate. Jude loudly accused three different teammates of betrayal. Eventually, I agreed to play two games and rotate enough guys through that everyone who wanted the chance could say they’d played with me.

Which sounded reasonable until I realized what I’d just committed myself to. It was a damn good thing I stayed in shape. These assholes were going to run me into the ground.

Still, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen them all this relaxed. That made the impending physical suffering worth it—hopefully.

And all of that assumed I survived the way Theo was looking at me as he made his way over. He stopped close enough that nobody else would think anything of it.

“It’s just a game,” I reminded him under my breath when he was close. “We’re playing a game, and we both know you’re a damn good running back.”

Mostly, I was reminding myself. This was football, and nothing more. I’d picked him because he was talented, fast, and capable of reading a field almost instinctively. That was a perfectly logical reason for my choice.

But Theo’s smile slowly widened.

“What was it you said…” Theo hummed, that unreasonably handsome smile of his growing, “oh yeah… game on, Kennedy.”

The implication was clear: he and I were beyond games at this point—no matter what the hell I said. Ten months ago, it hadn’t been a game, and it certainly wasn’t one now.

Holy fuck, I was not that young anymore. Thirty-two wasn’t even old. I knew that. Sure, I kept in shape, but I wasn’t equipped to play two games of football against a bunch of college athletes. My heart hammered against my ribs as I stood in front of them, sweat cooling against my skin while my legs threatened to remind me exactly how many years separated me from the guys sprawled across the field.

Still, it was worth it, mostly because I’d beaten Jude.

“I kicked your ass,” I taunted because I could. “Twice.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Jude waved me off. “I wasn’t playing with my whole team.”

“Right,” I retorted. “Because it’s not like you sucked or anything.”

His glare only made me grin. This part was fun. We’d missed out on this kind of banter growing up. Twelve years was a brutal age gap when one of you was a teenager desperate to get out of town and the other was still a little kid following you around whenever he got the chance. I hadn’t known how to relate to him then. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure what the hell I was doing now. I wasn’t exactly winning Brother of the Year, but we were closer than we'd ever been. That had to count for something.

“All right,” I said loudly. “Now, that we know who the best Kennedy is—”

“Fuck you!” Jude interrupted. I flipped him off as I kept talking.

“—we have one order of business to attend to before going back to my place for food—”

“And drinks!” Wyatt shouted.