Page 16 of The Pact
A pause stretches between us again. But it’s comfortable and easy. We’ve always been able to read each other well. Probably because when we were little, silence was safer than asking questions no one wanted to answer.
“You sound tired,” she says.
“It was a long day.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
I glance in the rearview mirror before switching lanes for my exit. “I’m okay.”
“Mmhmm.”
“What? You don’t believe me?”
“You say that when you don’t want to talk.”
She knows me well.
“I’m good. Just a lot on my mind, is all,” I say, quieter this time.
“Football?”
“Yeah, mostly.”
“And the rest?”
I let out a breath through my nose. “Just life.”
“Wow, okay,” she says dryly. “That narrows it down.”
Then, because she’s my sister and she’s intuitive, she asks, “Is Presley doing well?”
My pulse jumps.
“Yeah, she’s doing good. Busy getting ready for the season too.”
“Hmm.”
“What do you mean, hmm?”
She makes a humming sound. “I miss her too. It’s been a while since we’ve seen her.”
“I know.”
“You still have a crush on her?”
“There it is.”
“What? You can’t deny it. The pining is real.”
I chuckle, but I can feel the heat rising on the back of my neck, thinking about fucking her. I won’t tell her about that, but I can’t lie to my sister.
“Pining, huh?”
“I think, at some point, you’ll have to tell her.”
“Savannah.”
“You have to have a life outside of football. One day, you’ll wake up and realize all you have is us, some trophies, and a bad knee.”
