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“And it was about how we haven’t explored most of the ocean, which got me thinking… what if aliens already are here? What if they live in the ocean?”
“Why?” I snapped, unable to stop myself. “Why is this the sort of shit everyone asks me?”
“Because you’re cool like that,” Forrest said with more sincerity than I expected. His words made me falter, and the others saw my hesitation as an opportunity to chime in.
“Yeah, Coach Mason just talked football or grunted at us,” Theo added. My gaze instantly found his, and he just shrugged. “There was no hope of getting a conversation from him.”
“Okay, well,” I began as I tried to form the right words. While being the weird questions guy wasn’t what I was going for, at least they felt comfortable enough to have these conversations with me. “Yeah, that’s fine. Whatever works. As I was saying… the bus will take us straight onto the tarmac. Our bags will be loaded while all of you get situated—no, you can’t sit with me for the flight. I have shit to do and can’t be talking about aliens.”
“Damn,” Forrest whispered.
“When we get there, we’re going to get off, get our shit, and get to the hotel,” I continued. “We’ll figure out food once we get all of you situated in your rooms. I expect everyone to get some sleep tonight. Tomorrow will be busy.”
Tomorrow wasn’t just busy. It was a logistical nightmare choreographed down to the minute. We’d have breakfast, position meetings, and a final walkthrough before loading back onto the buses to head to the stadium. There’d be equipment checks, trainers making their rounds, media obligations on behalf of the college, and still making sure every player was where he was supposed to be when he was supposed to be there.
Kickoff immediately followed.
And once that clock hit zero, there wasn’t much time to breathe. Win or lose, we’d barely have an hour to get everyone through the locker room, showered, changed, fed, equipment packed, buses loaded, and back to the airport before our charter took off. If we missed that window, we’d have to scramble for a commercial flight while I tried to explain to the athletic department why we’d blown the travel schedule.
I wasn’t just coaching football anymore. I was managing a team of college athletes, the coaching staff, the trainers, the equipment managers, and enough luggage to outfit a small army. All it took was one person forgetting a bag, missing a bus, or wandering off to turn this whole trip into a disaster. I was worked up and stressed out. This whole situation had my need for control going crazy. There were too many variables—too many things in play that I couldn’t directly control.
We spent another five minutes running through our game day itinerary without interruption—thankfully—and another fifteen getting bags organized in the storage compartment. I checked off names on my clipboard to make sure every single player got on the bus. When Jude tried to get on after Theo, I stopped him.
“That,” I slapped the paper to his chest, “is your new class schedule. Don’t screw it up.”
“Eh.” He shrugged.
“I mean it, Jude. You’re a goddamn genius, and you know it.”
“I do,” he smirked, and I wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face. I stepped closer.
“I get it,” I said quietly. “You don’t want to live in my shadow, and that’s fine. You don’t want to be a rocket scientist, fine. You want to be a goddamn fitness influencer, then do it. But stop cutting yourself off at the knees just to prove you’re not me. One day, you’re going to wake up and regret not giving it your all while you had the chance.”
The words came out harsher than I’d intended. Watching someone with endless potential deliberately choose the harder road simply because he didn’t want to be compared to me was aggravating. He could have the world if he wanted it, and yet, he was too busy screwing around and trying to be anything but like his big brother. I didn’t want him to wake up one day with regrets because he never pursued what he was capable of.
He was silent for a long minute, which worried me. Jude always had something to say.
“Do you really think I can be a fitfluencer?” Jude asked. “I know I said it as a joke, but I’m starting to think I could do it.”
“Jesus fuck, Jude.” I sighed. Of all the things I’d just said, that was his takeaway? “It’s your life. You do whatever the hell you want, but if you screw up your grades, I’m kicking you off the team. I’m not benching you. You’ll be done. You understand?”
“Please,” he scoffed. “I could pass these classes in my sleep.”
“You’re such a cocky little shit,” I snapped. “Do you realize how smart you are? What doors will open for you?”
I’d spent years clawing my way through school, the Army, college internships, research projects, and more, simply because my intelligence opened up doors and created opportunities. I was all too aware of how few people were allotted that sort of thing. Watching Jude treat it like an option felt a lot like watching someone throw away a winning lottery ticket just because they could.
“But will it make me happy?” he shot back, and I faltered. He took the opportunity to keep going as he took another step closer, his voice dropping. “You can preach all you want about the benefits of being smart. I get it. It’s your thing. But are you happy, Rhodes? Are you happy putting all the things you think you should do first? Because where I’m from, you sure as hell look miserable to me, especially lately.”
My heart lodged in my throat. All I could think about was Theo—about knowing how I kept saying it couldn’t happen again while already knowing I’d cave the next time he looked at me the right way.
Jude wasn’t supposed to know that.
He wasn’t supposed to know about that part of my life.
And yet…
“What the hell does that mean?” I demanded, my tone more defensive than I meant it to be. But I needed him to explain. I needed to know exactly what the hell he was talking about because the what-if was terrifying. What if he had somehow pieced together the one secret I’d managed to keep from everyone for most of my life?
