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“I know. The fucker,” Ellie mutters.
We both laugh at that. Then I change the subject, asking about her podcast. When she was starting out, I was one of her first guests and we had so much fun and talked so much, she had to edit it down from three hours to one, which we found hilarious.
Back when I could laugh easily and was so confident. I was on top of the world and secure in my relationship with Eli. Even when I was down in San Diego and we had the occasional rough patch due to us living so far apart, I never worried about us. We were strong. We could make it through anything.
Everything.
“I’ll be at my parents just before Halloween,” Ellie says, pulling me out of my thoughts yet again. “Anyone doing anything?”
“If they’re not, we should plan something,” I suggest, suddenly excited at the possibilities. “We should host a costume party!”
“Where would we have the party? Oh wait…” Her voice drifts and I can tell she’s thinking. “I wonder if Jackson’s uncle still owns that cabin.”
“Oh, no way,” I breathe. I can’t imagine having a party there again. Talk about a flashback.
“I think he does. Wouldn’t it be fun to have a party there? We had a lot of good times back then,” Ellie says, her voice wistful.
“Yeah, you dreamily watching Jackson while he strummed his guitar for his fans,” I tease her.
“I was his number one fan though,” she says cheekily. “Even back then.”
“And especially right now.”
“It’s still hard for me to believe sometimes that we’re actually together and living this—life.” She hesitates for a moment. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to rub it in your face or whatever. I’m just really happy.”
“And you deserve to be,” I tell her gently. “It’s okay to express your happiness. You deserve it.”
“It was worth it. Sometimes, we have to go through shit to get to the good stuff on the other side,” Ellie says, my oh-so-wise friend. “Maybe that’s what’s happening with you and Eli, Ava. You’re going through tough times to get to the good again.”
“Yeah. Maybe,” I say, but I don’t believe it.
I’m starting to think our good times are over.
Forever.
Eleven
Eli
“Thanks for taking the time to talk to us today, Eli,” says our new head coach Jeff Harris. He took over in the summer, and it’s been a pretty seamless transition. I’d been worried, at first, that a new coach would fuck up our team mojo, but if anything, Harris seems to have helped it along.
That and my internal rage that pushes me on and urges me to destroy every team we play. That helps a lot too.
“Sure, of course.” I settle into the chair on the other side of the table where Coach is sitting. We’re in one of the smaller workout rooms that our team doesn’t really use. And every single coach on staff seems to be sitting at this six-foot table, all of them smiling at me.
It’s kind of intimidating.
“We wanted to talk to you privately and let you know what’s going on.” Coach settles his clasped hands on top of the table, leaning over it. “Scouts have reached out to us, son.”
I frown. “What kind of scouts?”
“The ones who come from the NFL.”
“NFL teams?” I ask, sounding like an idiot.
“Yeah, of course,” Coach says.
“Which ones?” I need names. Facts.
