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“So you’re planning to take it.”

“It’s a really good offer, Liam. I’ve always wanted to coach at the college level again.”

“And you’ve conveniently forgotten why it went poorly last time?”

“Of course not. I know I made mistakes. But that was a long time ago. People change.”

“They do, huh?”

“I was going to tell you, Liam. Coaching offers get discussed all the time and don’t work out. I didn’t want you to rely on anything that might not work out.”

I laugh. “You think that I’d be upset if you don’t get the job?”

He looks confused. “Well…yes.”

“Dad, I would be thrilled. I’d rather quit the fucking team than have you as Arlington’s head coach.”

Confusion ebbs into shock. “What?”

“Ourentire relationshipis you coaching me about football. Do you not see that? Do you ever think I might want to talk about something else? That I might want to watch a superhero movie with you instead of watch film? That I might want to go surfing, instead of running football plays until I can barely walk? This isn’t normal, Dad! You’re supposed to ask me about what classes I’m enjoying, not check on every grade to make sure I’m making the Athletic Honor Roll. Matt’s dad bought him a box of condoms when he graduated high school. Sam is salmon fishing in Alaska with his this week.” I shake my head. “I’m so sick of this! I’m tired of trying to make you proud and it Never. Being. Good. Enough.”

I turn and walk away, leaving my dad speechless.

Maeve is sitting on the front steps when I walk outside the following morning.

“Hey,” I say.

“Hey. You running?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I come?”

“Sure.”

That’s it for conversation until we’re at least a mile from our grandparents’.

“You’re up early,” I state.

Maeve isn’t a late sleeper—I know she and Becca train early in the summers—but she’s not usually up before me.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she responds.

I grunt an acknowledgment. Maeve and I are close—we used to be closer before the Weston Cole of it all—but don’t discuss anything delicate. We never have. Our social lives are as separate as possible, considering we share a lot of the same friends.

We don’t talk about fears or crushes. We celebrate each other’s athletic accomplishments and academic success. If anyone insulted her, I’d jump to her defense—and I know she’d do the same for me. But we’ve never made a point to discuss anything that matters—that makes us smile or cry. She didn’t tell me about Wes until she knew I’d hear it from someone else. And I’ve never considered telling her about Natalie.

It doesn’t sink in until I’ve already thought it—that I just compared how Maeve feels about Wes to how I see Natalie.

“So…you and Dad aren’t talking?” she asks.

I’m not surprised she noticed. The awkwardness between the two of us after the conversation on the beach yesterday was obvious to everyone, I’m sure.

I wasn’t expecting her to bring it up. I look over at her.

“So…you and Wes aren’t talking?”

Maeve glances at me. “You called him Wes.”

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