Page 75 of Falling Back to You

“Grey already lectured me on my idiocy about letting Elle back into my life. I don’t need it from you, too.”

“No lecture,” Myles said mildly. “Honestly, I think she’s good for you.”

“You do?” My ears perked up despite the weariness in my body. The painkillers had dulled most of the pain for now, though I knew they wouldn’t last.

He shrugged. “I could be wrong—”

“Doubtful.”

Myles had an uncanny sense of reading people correctly. It would be annoying if it wasn’t so useful.

“She’s changed, Cal. But she’s still the same in a lot of ways.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “You still have feelings for her.” He didn’t bother framing it as a question.

“Never really stopped,” I grumbled.

He hummed in understanding. More than anyone else, he knew just how far I’d fallen in my attempts to forget her. “I’m not saying you need to jump back into a relationship, but you were friends once. That’s a good basis for any relationship.”

“I hate it when you make so much sense.”

“One of us has to be the sensible one in this friendship.”

Touché.

“And for what it’s worth, Grey has a point. We both know it.” He held up a hand when I tried to protest. “But you’re going to have to make the best choice for you and Khia. Only you can do that.” My best friend spitting facts, ladies and gentlemen. “Pray about it, and remember the concern comes from a place of love.”

After he left, the words looped in my mind as I stared at my bedroom ceiling.

Friendship was a good start. But I was lying to myself if I said it was all I wanted.

Chapter twenty-five

Cal

12 Years Ago . . . February

Seattle wasn’t the same without Noelle. Instead of sharing an apartment with the woman I thought would be my wife, I was stuck with one of the veteran players’ families. Which, don’t get me wrong, was fine. The Lions were good people and their kids loved me. But this wasn’t the plan.

It was supposed to be wedding bliss. Starting a new life with my best friend. Not . . . this.

But looking for a bright side, the locker room here was leaps and bounds nicer than Caldwell’s.

“You’re playing mad,” Myles commented when we finished our showers after practice.

“Keeps me sharp.”

“It makes you sloppy.”

“You’re not my coach.” I slammed my locker. “If you’ve got something to say, just say it.”

“Did you ever talk to her?”

I glared at him. It’d been six months since Noelle ditched me and disappeared into the wide world of who-knows-where. New York somewhere, if her parents’ word could be trusted. “She was my fiancée. We talked all the time.”

“I mean really talk.”

“Where’s this coming from?”

Myles ignored my question and heaped on another. “Did she talk about her family?”